In Summary: * Change of listening plans: I wasn't able to bring in a strong enough signal to listen to the NASCAR Truck Series Race as I'd planned. But I have found a men's college basketball game to follow. Listening now to the Princeton Tigers vs the Cornell Big Red.

Prayers, etc.: * I have a daily prayer regimen I try to follow throughout the day from early morning, as soon as I roll out of bed, until head hits pillow at night. Details of that regimen are linked to my link tree, which is linked to my profile page here.

Health Metrics: * bw= 226.08 lbs. * bp= 145/83 (64)

Exercise: * morning stretches, balance exercises, kegel pelvic floor exercises, half squats, calf raises, wall push-ups

Diet: * 06:10 – 1 six in. Jimmy John's submarine sandwich, yellow cake * 09:30 – enchiladas * 11:10 – air-popped popcorn * 12:30 – 2 pcs. 0f cake * 13:15 – garden salad * 14:30 – 2 glazed donuts * 16:20 – 1 fresh apple

Activities, Chores, etc.: * 04:30 – listen to local news talk radio * 06:00 – bank accounts activity monitored * 06:30 – read, pray, follow news reports from various sources, surf the socials * 10:10 – prayerfully read the Pre-1955 Mass Propers for Friday of Sexagesima Week, Feb. 13, 2026 * 12:00 – listen to The Markley, van Camp and Robbins Show * 13:00 – read, pray, follow news reports from various sources, surf the socials * 18:00 – After failing to connect with a strong enough feed to follow tonight's NASCAR Race, I'll see if I can find a basketball game.

Chess: * 13:45 – moved in all pending CC games

Luke 11 is not simply a chapter about prayer, or demons, or religious arguments. It is a living portrait of how heaven responds to hunger. It reveals what happens when a human being dares to ask, dares to knock, dares to refuse to stay silent. In the Gospel of Luke, this chapter unfolds like a progression of spiritual intensity, beginning with a simple request from a disciple and building into a confrontation between light and darkness, sincerity and hypocrisy, humility and pride. It is not a soft chapter. It is not a comfortable chapter. It is a refining chapter.

The opening scene is remarkably human. One of the disciples watches Jesus pray and then asks, “Lord, teach us to pray.” That request carries vulnerability. It admits confusion. It confesses inadequacy. It says, without embarrassment, “I do not know how to do this.” There is something deeply beautiful about that. The disciples had watched miracles. They had heard teachings that reshaped their worldview. Yet what they wanted most was not technique for power but instruction for communion. They recognized that everything they saw flowing from Jesus began in the quiet place of prayer.

When Jesus responds with what many call the Lord’s Prayer, he does not offer complexity. He offers alignment. “Father, hallowed be your name.” The prayer begins not with human need but divine reverence. It recalibrates the heart before it lists requests. In that structure is a profound spiritual truth: when reverence leads, anxiety loses its grip. When the holiness of God is acknowledged first, the turbulence of circumstances shrinks into perspective. The prayer then moves toward daily bread, forgiveness, and protection. It covers provision, restoration, and preservation. It addresses both material and spiritual realities. It refuses to divide life into sacred and secular compartments.

There is an order to this prayer that reshapes the soul. Honor precedes hunger. Surrender precedes supply. Forgiveness precedes freedom. The chapter teaches that prayer is not about persuading a reluctant God but participating in a relational rhythm. It is not a performance. It is a returning.

Yet Jesus does not stop with the model prayer. He immediately tells a story about a man who goes to his friend at midnight asking for bread. The timing is inconvenient. The request is persistent. The door is closed. The household is asleep. Everything about the scenario feels like a “no.” Yet the man keeps knocking. Jesus makes a striking statement: it is not friendship alone that secures the bread but persistence. That word unsettles people. It sounds as though God must be worn down. But the deeper point is not about divine reluctance; it is about human perseverance.

Persistence is the evidence of belief. Indifference quits quickly. Doubt withdraws at resistance. But conviction stays at the door. Luke 11 paints prayer as an active pursuit rather than a passive wish. “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened.” The verbs are progressive. Asking engages the voice. Seeking engages the mind and movement. Knocking engages the will. It is a crescendo of engagement.

There is also a subtle mercy in this teaching. Jesus compares God to a father. He asks which father would give a snake when his child asks for a fish. Which father would hand over a scorpion instead of an egg. The imagery is vivid and almost startling. It forces the listener to confront a question: what kind of God do you believe in? Luke 11 dismantles the image of a cruel or capricious deity. It replaces it with the image of a Father who gives the Holy Spirit to those who ask. Not just provision. Not just answers. The Spirit.

The promise is deeper than surface blessing. The greatest gift is not what comes from God’s hand but who comes from God’s heart. The Holy Spirit represents presence, guidance, empowerment, and intimacy. Luke 11 reveals that prayer is not merely transactional. It is transformational. The persistent seeker does not just receive bread. The persistent seeker receives communion.

The chapter then shifts tone dramatically. Jesus casts out a demon, and instead of celebration, there is accusation. Some claim he drives out demons by the power of Beelzebul. Others demand a sign from heaven. This is where Luke 11 exposes the tension between revelation and resistance. Light has arrived, yet skepticism remains. Power is displayed, yet cynicism persists.

Jesus responds with piercing logic. A divided kingdom cannot stand. If Satan drives out Satan, his kingdom collapses. The argument is not only intellectual; it is spiritual. Jesus makes it clear that neutrality is not an option. “Whoever is not with me is against me.” Those words are not spoken to intimidate but to clarify. Luke 11 dismantles the illusion of spiritual neutrality. There is alignment or there is avoidance. There is openness or there is opposition.

The imagery of the strong man guarding his house adds another layer. Jesus describes a strong man fully armed, guarding his possessions. But when someone stronger attacks and overpowers him, the possessions are taken. The implication is unmistakable. The kingdom of God is not fragile. It is forceful. The presence of Jesus is the arrival of someone stronger than darkness. Luke 11 does not depict a timid savior negotiating with evil. It depicts authority.

Yet even in authority, there is warning. Jesus speaks of an unclean spirit leaving a person and wandering through dry places. When it returns and finds the house swept and put in order but unoccupied, it brings seven other spirits worse than itself. The condition becomes more severe than before. This is not a statement meant to frighten but to illuminate. Emptiness is not safety. Cleansing without filling leads to vulnerability. Luke 11 insists that spiritual reformation without spiritual indwelling is incomplete.

The chapter then returns to the theme of hearing and obedience. A woman in the crowd cries out, praising the mother who bore him. Jesus redirects the focus. “Blessed rather are those who hear the word of God and obey it.” Biological proximity is not the highest blessing. Spiritual responsiveness is. Luke 11 elevates obedience above admiration. It honors alignment above applause.

As the chapter unfolds further, Jesus addresses the generation seeking signs. He calls them wicked not because they ask questions but because they demand spectacle while ignoring substance. He references Jonah and the Queen of the South, reminding them that previous generations responded to lesser revelations. Here stands someone greater than Jonah. Someone greater than Solomon. Yet recognition lags.

There is a haunting quality to this section. It confronts the possibility of being spiritually informed yet spiritually unmoved. Luke 11 exposes the danger of familiarity. When truth becomes common, urgency fades. When revelation is constant, gratitude dulls. The chapter warns against seeing light yet refusing to let it illuminate.

Then comes the metaphor of the lamp. “No one lights a lamp and puts it in a cellar.” Light is meant for visibility. The eye is described as the lamp of the body. If the eye is healthy, the body is full of light. If it is unhealthy, the body is full of darkness. This teaching reaches inward. It asks what we are focusing on. It examines perception. Luke 11 suggests that darkness is not always about external absence of light but internal distortion of vision.

The chapter concludes with a confrontation between Jesus and the Pharisees and teachers of the law. Woes are pronounced. They are not random rebukes. They are targeted exposures of hypocrisy. The Pharisees are criticized for meticulous tithing of herbs while neglecting justice and the love of God. They love prominent seats and public greetings. They are compared to unmarked graves, influencing others without awareness.

The teachers of the law are rebuked for burdening people without helping them carry the weight. They build tombs for the prophets while participating in the same patterns of rejection. Luke 11 strips away religious polish and exposes inner decay. It reminds readers that external order without internal transformation is hollow.

This chapter is relentless in its honesty. It begins with prayer and ends with prophetic confrontation. It moves from persistence at a midnight door to exposure of religious pretense in daylight. It invites hunger, demands alignment, warns against emptiness, and calls for integrity. Luke 11 is not comfortable, but it is clarifying.

Luke 11 refuses to let the reader remain passive. It presses inward until something either awakens or resists. When the surface narrative is examined more closely, a deeper thread emerges. This chapter is ultimately about authority that flows from intimacy and about integrity that flows from alignment. It is about what happens when a life is filled, not just cleaned.

Return to the beginning again and linger there. “Lord, teach us to pray.” That request did not come from novices who had never witnessed the supernatural. It came from men who had already seen blind eyes opened and storms silenced. What compelled them to ask for instruction in prayer was not ignorance of miracles but awareness of their source. They understood that the public authority of Jesus was anchored in private communion. Luke 11 establishes a foundational principle that cannot be bypassed: authority in public ministry is sustained by intimacy in private devotion.

There is something profoundly humbling about that. It means the strength people admire is born in places no one applauds. The clarity people respect is formed in moments no one sees. The courage that stands against darkness begins in quiet surrender before the Father. Luke 11 dismantles the illusion that visible power can exist independently of hidden prayer. It teaches that depth with God precedes demonstration before people.

The prayer itself continues to reveal layers the longer one meditates on it. “Your kingdom come.” That phrase is not a poetic line. It is a declaration of allegiance. To pray for God’s kingdom is to dethrone personal preference. It is to invite divine rule into daily decisions. It is to welcome heaven’s priorities into earthly schedules. Luke 11 does not present prayer as a way to recruit God into personal agendas. It presents prayer as a way to surrender personal agendas into divine purposes.

“Give us each day our daily bread.” There is humility embedded in that line. It does not demand abundance for decades ahead. It asks for sufficiency for today. It teaches dependence in a culture obsessed with control. Luke 11 gently invites the reader to release the anxiety of self-sufficiency and embrace the rhythm of daily trust. There is freedom in that simplicity. It recalibrates ambition and steadies the heart.

“Forgive us our sins, for we also forgive everyone who sins against us.” Forgiveness in this chapter is not isolated. It is relational. It flows in two directions. One cannot cling to resentment while expecting mercy. Luke 11 reveals that spiritual maturity is measured not by eloquence in prayer but by generosity in forgiveness. The chapter makes it impossible to hide bitterness behind religious language.

Then comes the call to persistence. The midnight knock is not polite. It is inconvenient. It disrupts comfort. The man at the door does not wait for daylight. He believes the need is urgent enough to endure potential embarrassment. That urgency mirrors spiritual hunger. Luke 11 challenges complacency. It asks whether faith is casual or committed. It reveals that genuine longing will not retreat at the first sign of resistance.

The words “ask, seek, knock” form a progression that is almost rhythmic. They invite movement. Asking engages communication. Seeking requires effort. Knocking demands determination. Luke 11 paints prayer as participation rather than passivity. It shows that the pursuit of God is not mechanical but relational, not frantic but faithful.

The promise that follows is deeply reassuring. Every good father gives what nourishes, not what harms. This comparison exposes distorted views of God. Many approach prayer with suspicion, as if the answer will be disguised disappointment. Luke 11 corrects that fear. It portrays the Father as attentive and generous. Not indulgent, but intentional. Not reckless, but loving.

The gift of the Holy Spirit stands at the center of that generosity. The Spirit is not an accessory to faith. The Spirit is the indwelling presence that transforms emptiness into habitation. Earlier in the chapter, the warning about the unclean spirit returning to an empty house illustrates the danger of spiritual vacancy. Sweeping and organizing the interior life is insufficient if it remains unoccupied. Luke 11 insists that reform without relationship is unstable.

This theme becomes even more striking when Jesus confronts accusations about casting out demons by dark power. The crowd witnesses liberation, yet suspicion arises. The accusation reveals something unsettling about the human heart. When confronted with undeniable authority, some choose explanation over surrender. Luke 11 exposes how pride can reinterpret miracles to avoid repentance.

Jesus responds with clarity. A divided kingdom cannot stand. If liberation is occurring, then something stronger has arrived. The imagery of the strong man guarding his house communicates spiritual conflict without dramatization. Darkness guards territory fiercely. Yet when one stronger arrives, the outcome is decisive. Luke 11 is not ambiguous about the supremacy of Christ. It declares that light overpowers darkness not by negotiation but by authority.

The statement “Whoever is not with me is against me” confronts modern tendencies toward spiritual neutrality. Luke 11 does not permit passive admiration. It demands alignment. The line is not harsh; it is honest. In a world that often values ambiguity, the chapter calls for clarity. Allegiance matters. Direction matters. Indifference is not innocence.

As the narrative continues, the woman who praises Jesus’ mother represents admiration without transformation. Her blessing is sincere, yet Jesus redirects attention to obedience. “Blessed rather are those who hear the word of God and obey it.” Luke 11 places obedience above proximity. Being near truth is not the same as embodying truth. Hearing without responding produces no fruit.

The demand for signs from heaven reveals another human pattern. Even when revelation is present, more proof is requested. Luke 11 identifies this as a symptom of hardness. It references Jonah and Solomon to illustrate that prior generations responded to lesser demonstrations of wisdom and warning. The implication is sobering. Greater revelation brings greater responsibility. Exposure without response increases accountability.

The metaphor of the lamp sharpens the focus further. The eye determines whether the body is filled with light or darkness. This is not merely about vision but perception. Luke 11 suggests that what one chooses to focus on shapes internal reality. A healthy eye perceives truth accurately. A distorted eye misinterprets even clear illumination. The warning to ensure that the light within is not darkness challenges self-deception. It urges examination of motives and filters.

The confrontation with the Pharisees and teachers of the law at the end of the chapter may feel severe, but it reveals divine concern for authenticity. These leaders were meticulous in external observance. They tithed herbs with precision. Yet they neglected justice and love. Luke 11 exposes the imbalance. Spiritual detail without moral depth is incomplete. Ritual without compassion is hollow.

The love of prominent seats and public greetings exposes craving for recognition. Luke 11 warns that spiritual authority cannot coexist with self-exaltation. True leadership serves rather than seeks applause. The comparison to unmarked graves is startling. It implies influence without awareness, impact without transparency. The message is clear: hidden corruption affects others even when unseen.

When the teachers of the law protest, Jesus addresses them directly. They burden people without assisting them. They honor prophets symbolically while resisting prophetic truth practically. Luke 11 highlights the danger of commemorating past faithfulness while rejecting present correction. It is possible to celebrate history and yet repeat its failures.

Taken together, Luke 11 is a blueprint for enduring faith. It begins in intimacy and ends in integrity. It shows that persistence in prayer must be matched by purity in motive. It insists that spiritual filling must replace spiritual vacancy. It challenges admiration without obedience and knowledge without justice.

For those who read this chapter carefully, it becomes less about ancient debates and more about present posture. It asks whether prayer is habitual or heartfelt. It questions whether allegiance is clear or convenient. It invites examination of whether the inner house is merely organized or truly inhabited. It warns against the comfort of public religion that masks private emptiness.

Luke 11 also offers immense hope. The Father is generous. The Spirit is available. Darkness is overpowered. Light is meant to shine. The chapter does not leave the reader condemned but called. It does not end in despair but in decision.

There is quiet authority woven throughout this chapter. It does not shout for attention. It stands firm and invites response. Luke 11 is not merely a record of words spoken long ago. It is an invitation into a deeper way of living now. It calls for persistent prayer, courageous alignment, receptive obedience, and authentic devotion.

In a world saturated with noise, Luke 11 returns to the essential. Seek the Father. Welcome the Spirit. Align with the kingdom. Let light fill the interior life. Refuse hypocrisy. Practice justice and love. Persist when doors seem closed. Stand with clarity rather than drift in neutrality.

When these elements converge, faith becomes resilient rather than reactive. It becomes inhabited rather than empty. It becomes luminous rather than concealed. Luke 11, in all its directness and depth, invites every reader into that transformation.

Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph

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CeCe's new Family

#nsfw #CeCe

My mom, Mimi, has always been remarkably open-minded and level-headed, qualities forged in the fires of her own hardships that made her the rock she is today. She raised me all on her own after leaving my abusive father when I was just a toddler. She packed up in the dead of night, fleeing his rages and control, determined to give me a life free from fear.

For years, she worked multiple jobs while I was raised by my grandparents in their modest house on the edge of the city, a place filled with love, stories, and the kind of quiet wisdom that sticks with you. Mimi inherited that house when they passed, and she respects their legacy deeply. She turned their legacy it into a sanctuary of acceptance. Judgment has no place, because that's what they taught her: empathy above all.

As a special needs instructor, she's spent decades working with difficult parents who deny their kids' realities and stifle their full potential. She worked tirelessly for children in a society that often writes them off as “unsavable.” Her specialty was working with autistic teens lost in sensory storms, kids with behavioral challenges, and and the forgotten ones that had experienced unspeakable trauma.

She's seen it all and fought for them when no one else would. Connecting with CeCe was second nature to her. CeCe's directness, her unapologetic fixations, her need for routines amid chaos—it all resonated with Mimi's experiences, making her an instant ally.

That night, after CeCe had broken down and cried, after we both consoled her and reminded her how much she is loved, how we didn't judge her for being fully nude in front of us, how she eventually found center and found peace and calm, she fell asleep naked on the couch, her caramel curves relaxed in the dim lamplight.

One arm was draped over her full breasts, her thick thighs slightly parted in exhausted vulnerability. Mom covered her with a soft blanket, taking a short glance over her beautiful nude form, then turned to me with a knowing look. We slipped into the kitchen for a long heart-to-heart, the house quiet save for the distant ambient drone of city traffic outside.

“Tasha, baby,” she started, pouring us both some herbal tea, her voice low and steady. “Tell me about your future with CeCe. This life you've chosen—it's not what I pictured for you, but I see the love there. What does this look like long-term?”

I sighed, stirring my tea, the steam rising like my swirling thoughts. “It's undefined, Mom. We are roommates, partners, whatever. We don't label it, but it's forever. I honestly can't help but love her. She's my everything, even with her... extremes.”

Mom nodded, sipping thoughtfully. “Her lifestyle.. and..” she hesitated. “And watching porn.” That held still in the air as she looked down at her cup. “I get it's her anchor, but walk me through why she's like this. From what she shared earlier, it sounds like trauma wrapped in fixation.”

“It's layers,” I explained, glancing back at CeCe's sleeping form. “She was so sheltered growing up, autistic traits making the world overwhelming. I introduced her to porn in college to help her loosen up after a bad date, but it latched on. It never left. It became her coping mechanism, especially with her family's oppression. I felt guilty for leading her down that path even though she told me it's not my fault. So I stayed because I played a part in making her this way. Her porn watching didn't bother me. Her naked obsessions are my only concern. She just needs someone safe to anchor her. I witnessed her transformation from shy and sheltered to shameless and free. She's truly remarkable.”

My mom looked at me with an intense deep stare as she focused in on every word. I knew that look. She was reading my body language and every expression to get the bigger picture. Those bright and fiery deep hazel eyes were wise and sometimes all-knowing when it came to understanding me. I learned long ago to just accept when mom was like this and not fight it. I took a deep breath and continued to speak.

“She needs exposure so she feels seen and in control. It might be the first and only thing she has done that defines her individuality outside of her oppressive household. But that night her mom broke in, yelling, humiliating her, hysterical, getting arrested.. it shattered her.

She cut them off. She chose to drop out of college and join the workforce. I followed her. In turn, she poured everything into her new career path, our home, and us. That still doesn't change her habits. Porn is her constant now. She masturbates to regulate. She's extreme about being naked too and I know there is no changing any of this It's her life identity now. She does everything naked at home this includes outside our apartment. She roams the complex naked at night. As well, small things like doing laundry or getting the mail. It's who she is, but it's isolating because of extreme it is. But I liked it, and I don't judge her, I'm just her rudder.”

I take a moment to reflect on everything. My heart really is all in for CeCe. My mom still looking silently urging me to continue.

“I stay with her because ultimately, I started her down this path. I watched her alienate anyone new that wasn't into her lifestyle. I saw the looks others gave her for her socially awkward nature. She's brilliant at her job, she's gifted in so many ways, but strangers never see what I see. They never lived with her and saw her beautiful soul when things got quiet.

Her high emotional intelligence, her empathy. She's loyal in the most unexpected ways. She hugs me when I don't even know why. She's given me things and said things to me that no one else has really done for me. I tried to date men at first, but my thoughts always kept wandering back to her, wondering if she was ok alone. She's tried to push me away at first, she knows she's not normal like everyone else. She is her own version of normal. She's aware of her place, but she is still CeCe. That's why I stay. No one can replace her. No one is better. She's my beautiful monster and she's my angel.”

My mom put down her tea. Tears streaming down her face. She wept. I asked her what was wrong. She reached across the table, squeezing my hand. “Tasha, that was the most beautiful confession of true love I have ever heard baby. When I raised you all alone, I dreamed of a day I could experience a small piece of what you are living right now. But fate has a funny way of granting wishes. I wasn't supposed to experience that. I was supposed to make the way for you to experience that.”

My mom, this legendary wise woman, paused to wipe tears from her eyes.

“As I bear witness to your legacy, this is the happiest day of my life. You have grown so much and I think CeCe was a big part of your journey. You are not the same woman that left home for college. You are something so much more now.

I fully understand why you chose her as your partner. Love like this has no gender. Love this strong will cross every boundary to exist. Every lonely and painful moment I experienced was worth it to see you this way. To see you as a real woman.

This is confirmation that I raised you right. You are living truly a beautiful and rich life. Don't let go of that.” Mom tried her best to wipe the tears, but they never stopped. She smiled. Her voice trembled. She was proud.

I got up from the table, walked over to her and hugged her. There was so much love in our house today, just like my grandparents wanted. We embraced each other. The house stayed still bearing witness to my testimony.

Mom pulled back to speak again. She was no longer analytical. She was soft. She was just being my mom again. “Tasha baby, knowing you've chosen this life with her—what kind of support do you need from me? You're her protector, but who's protecting you?”

Tears pricked my eyes as I confessed, “I just need... understanding. Someone to talk to when it's heavy, when her escalations scare me or the world judges us. Advice on balancing it—helping her without enabling too much. And just... knowing you're in our corner, Mom. It means everything. Clearly I know you will be there for me as I live this life with her. I want to learn everything you know so I can be the best for myself and CeCe.”

She pulled me back into a hug, her embrace warm and unwavering. “You've got it, all of it. I'm here—for both of you.”

That night, after our heart-to-heart in the kitchen, mom excused herself for a bit, retreating to her study with a thoughtful expression. When she returned, she handed me a sealed envelope to pack with CeCe's things for the drive home the next day. “Give this to her later,” she said softly. “It's a letter of love and acceptance, and a vow to support both of you—no matter what. I know CeCe needs something tangible, something she can read over and over when times get tough, to remind her she's not alone.” I hugged her tightly, grateful for her insight, knowing how her experience in life and her career was a safety net for CeCe.

Mom insisted we stay the night since it was getting late. She gave us one bed without hesitation. CeCe and I both agreed. I could feel something had shifted in CeCe that night. As we drifted off to sleep, she held me tight and told me she loved me. I fell back to sleep shortly after. My heart was overflowing.

The next morning, Mom got to experience a taste of my life. As we prepared to head back to our apartment. I'd warned her the night before, whispering over tea, “Mom, just so you know, CeCe might... be herself when we leave. She's comfortable here now.” True to her word, mom was ready to understand, her open-minded nature shining through.

But when CeCe emerged from the guest room without a stitch on—her caramel curves bare, full breasts swaying as she hugged mom goodbye, my mom's eyes widened for a split second before she composed herself, pulling CeCe into a warm embrace. She gave me the side eye without CeCe noticing, fully understanding what she invited into her home.

“You be you, honey,” she said with a chuckle. But as we walked to the car parked out front, she glanced at the neighboring houses and added gently, “But maybe park in the backyard next time? So the neighbors don't freak out. I love you, but Mrs. Jenkins across the street has a weak heart.”

CeCe laughed, a genuine, light sound I hadn't heard in ages, and nodded. “Deal.” She said as she climbed into the passenger seat naked. She waved cheerfully as we pulled away, her juicy ass settling into the upholstery without a care in the world. She rode like that all the way back to our apartment, the sun warming her skin through the windows, occasionally shifting to let the seatbelt tease her nipples.

By this point, traffic was a non issue for me. Our windows were tinted just enough but in the daytime, it was obvious CeCe was naked. There might be the occasional honk or someone staring, but it's amazing what you get used to when your partner is a diehard porn addicted nudist. I wouldn't have it any other way.

When we made it back to our apartment, she strolled across the parking lot bare as the day she was born. She decided to go barefoot this time. Even shoes are too much for her sometimes.

I'm pretty sure the landlord knows she is “the naked chick” in unit 12B—but we have not gotten notices about her behavior. Complaints had trickled in early on, but we'd kept things discreet, and the building staff just took a blind eye, perhaps figuring it wasn't worth the hassle. I do wonder if CeCe said something and worked her magic, charming someone or saying the right things to justify her behavior.

Once we were home, safe in our cozy space with screens flickering softly and toys tucked in drawers, CeCe unpacked her bag and found the letter. She sat on the couch naked, legs crossed, and read it slowly—her eyes welling up as my Mom's words left the page and into her heart. CeCe read affirmations of unconditional love, acceptance. It was a vow to support us both. What made this a unique experience was it came from someone else. It wasn't just me that accepted her. It came from someone who she saw a mother figure. Someone else loved her for who she is.

Happy tears streamed down her face again, sobs of relief shaking her shoulders as she clutched the paper like a lifeline. “Tasha... this is everything,” she whispered, before grabbing her phone and dialing mom, putting it on speaker so I could hear.

The conversation flowed with warmth, my mom affirming everything full of love and support: “You're family now, CeCe—flaws, fixations, and all. I've got your back, and I'm here whenever you need to talk or just be who you are.” CeCe thanked her profusely, her voice thick with emotion, sharing how the letter felt like the 'mom-hug' she'd always craved.

Towards the end of the call, as mom wrapped up with more encouragements, CeCe was back to her usual self—subtly edging, her fingers discreetly circling her clit under the guise of fidgeting, legs shifting just enough that only I noticed the faint hitch in her breath, the subtle glaze in her eyes. It had been years since I'd seen that old CeCe—the one who balanced her obsessions with quiet contentment—and it warmed my heart to witness her return, even in that intimate, unnoticed moment.

After that day, something shifted in CeCe—a subtle calming of the storm inside her. She didn't seek or crave escalation with her exhibitionism and porn anymore; it was still woven into her core, still part of her daily rhythm—she'd watch her favorite videos of black women embracing their sensuality, touching herself absentmindedly while we cooked or lounged—but it became manageable, less like a wildfire and more like a steady flame. She still went outside naked when the mood struck, but it was controlled, thoughtful, without the frantic push for more risk that had defined her before.

Outside of CeCe's freaky habits, life started aligning in unexpected ways. I got promoted to regional manager for the cafe, the extra responsibility coming with a solid pay bump that made our dreams feel tangible. CeCe, with her sharp engineering mind, landed a raise at the tech firm—another step up the ladder, her bosses praising her innovative prototypes without ever suspecting the naked, porn-obsessed woman behind the code.

We decided then to save aggressively and buy a house together, scouting listings for something private yet close to the city, a place where our unlabeled life could flourish without prying eyes. It was exciting, a symbol of our commitment, even if we never called it that.

During that time, while we scrimped and saved, I could sense CeCe plotting something, her eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief during our evenings. Little did I know, my mom was in on it, the two of them exchanging secretive texts that I'd glimpse but never pry into. Our apartment was about an hour away from Mom's house, a drive we'd make more often now that CeCe felt truly welcomed there.

The next summer, we treated ourselves to a 'staycation'—a week off work, holed up in our place with no plans but indulgence. CeCe convinced me to stay naked with her the whole time, our caramel bodies bare and intertwined as we lounged, cooked, and lost ourselves in marathons of wholesome perversion.

She'd set up a mobile TV cart next to the main screen: Netflix bingeing rom-coms and thrillers on one, while porn played on mute on the other—endless loops of black women in solo ecstasy, their curves and moans fueling our own lazy edging sessions. We'd touch each other absently, fingers tracing slick folds, building tension without release, the air thick with our shared arousal.

Then, on a random Wednesday morning, as we lay tangled in bed, the summer sun filtering through the blinds, CeCe turned to me with a grin. “Let's go to your mom's house.”

I blinked, still hazy from sleep, my hand resting on her thick thigh. “Now? CeCe, remember we promised to stay naked this week. That's the staycation rule you set.”

She laughed, sitting up, her breasts bouncing as she reached for her phone. “Your mom is okay if we show up naked. We can just bring our hoodies in case.” And as if on cue, my phone buzzed with a text from mom: “This is good for CeCe, let her have fun. We talked about it already. Drive safe, loves.”

I stared at the message, stunned but a thrill racing through me—excitement bubbling up at the audacity, the plotting they'd done behind my back. “You two planned this? Okay, let's do it.”

There is a quiet ache that lives in almost every human heart, and it sounds something like this: if this one weakness were gone, then I could finally become who I was meant to be. We rarely say it out loud, but we feel it constantly. If I were less anxious, I would lead more boldly. If I were less emotional, I would be more respected. If I did not fail that time, I would have more credibility. If my past were cleaner, my voice would carry more weight. If my struggle were smaller, my faith would look stronger. We create an imaginary version of ourselves that is polished, confident, unshaken, and we assume that is the version God intends to use. So we spend years trying to sand down the edges of our humanity, believing that heaven is waiting for our improvement before it entrusts us with impact.

But what if that entire framework is wrong.

What if the very weakness you have been trying to hide, minimize, or pray away is not standing in the way of your calling, but is the seed of it. What if the place you feel least impressive is the place God intends to demonstrate something eternal. What if the scar you resent is actually sacred. These are not comfortable questions, because they disrupt our obsession with appearing strong. Yet if you look honestly at your own life, you may already see the pattern forming.

Think back to the moments that shaped you most deeply. They were probably not the moments of applause. They were not the seasons where everything felt easy and smooth. They were the nights you did not know how you were going to make it through. They were the prayers whispered through tears. They were the failures that forced you to confront yourself. They were the disappointments that stripped away illusions. Those seasons felt like weakness, yet they carved depth into your character that comfort never could.

The world trains us to present strength. From childhood we learn to mask vulnerability. We are taught to smile when we are hurting, to perform when we are insecure, to project certainty when we are unsure. Social media has amplified this impulse. We curate images of our victories and crop out the struggle. We celebrate the promotion but hide the panic attack. We share the stage but conceal the self-doubt. We show the highlight reel and delete the behind-the-scenes chaos. Over time, we begin to believe that the edited version of ourselves is the only version worthy of being seen.

That belief does not come from God.

The God revealed in Scripture has always been drawn to the honest, the broken, the aware. He does not seem impressed by polished strength. He moves through surrendered weakness. This truth is not sentimental. It is structural. It is woven into the architecture of redemption itself.

If you examine your weakness closely, you will notice something important. It often sits at the intersection of your deepest fear and your deepest desire. The person who fears rejection most intensely often desires connection most passionately. The one who battles insecurity often longs to uplift others. The one who has tasted failure often dreams of building something meaningful. Your weakness is not random. It is often connected to the very territory where you are called to serve.

Yet instead of exploring it, we hide it.

We hide the anxiety because we believe leaders should be calm. We hide the emotional sensitivity because we believe strength means stoicism. We hide the past mistakes because we believe credibility requires perfection. We hide the addiction because we believe spiritual people do not struggle. We hide the doubt because we believe faith should look unshakable. And in hiding, we exhaust ourselves. The energy required to maintain an image is immense. It creates distance between who we are and who we pretend to be. That distance quietly erodes joy.

There is a reason so many capable, gifted people feel like impostors. It is because they are performing strength instead of living surrendered. They assume that if others saw their weakness, everything would collapse. But what if the opposite is true. What if authenticity is the doorway to influence. What if the very thing you fear disqualifies you is the thing that makes you relatable, credible, and useful in ways polished perfection never could.

Consider how you respond to others. When someone speaks from a place of flawless achievement, you may admire them, but you rarely feel connected. When someone shares honestly about struggle, about doubt, about scars, something in you relaxes. You feel seen. You feel less alone. You think, maybe I am not broken beyond repair. Vulnerability does not repel the human heart. It draws it in.

Why would the Kingdom of God operate differently.

The cross itself looked like weakness. It looked like humiliation, loss, defeat. From a distance, it did not resemble victory. Yet that moment of apparent weakness became the axis on which history turned. Redemption did not arrive wrapped in visible power. It arrived through sacrifice. If God chose that path to accomplish the greatest work ever done, why would we assume He is limited by our fragility.

You may be carrying a weakness right now that you have begged God to remove. Perhaps it is a persistent mental battle. Perhaps it is a physical limitation that reshaped your plans. Perhaps it is a history that still whispers accusations. Perhaps it is a personality trait you wish were different. You have prayed, fasted, tried harder, disciplined yourself, and still the weakness lingers. It feels like a flaw in the design.

But what if it is a feature.

What if the ongoing presence of that weakness is the very thing that keeps you close to God. What if, without it, you would drift into self-reliance. What if, without it, you would trust your own strength and forget the Source. Weakness has a way of driving us to our knees. It strips away arrogance. It exposes our need. It creates dependence. And dependence is not a sign of failure in the Kingdom. It is the soil where intimacy grows.

There is a difference between weakness that is hidden and weakness that is surrendered. Hidden weakness breeds shame. Surrendered weakness breeds humility. Hidden weakness isolates. Surrendered weakness connects. Hidden weakness whispers, you are not enough. Surrendered weakness declares, I was never meant to be enough on my own. That shift changes everything.

You may be thinking that this sounds poetic but not practical. After all, weakness still feels uncomfortable. It still creates friction. It still exposes vulnerability. The idea of embracing it seems risky. Yet what has hiding it accomplished. Has concealment brought peace. Has pretending brought freedom. Or has it created tension that you carry everywhere.

When you try to outrun your weakness, you end up running from yourself. You become fragmented. There is the public version and the private version. There is the confident exterior and the anxious interior. There is the leader on stage and the struggler at night. The longer that divide persists, the heavier it becomes. Authentic surrender closes the gap.

This does not mean celebrating dysfunction or excusing destructive behavior. It means acknowledging reality before God and allowing Him to work within it. Growth still matters. Healing still matters. Discipline still matters. But none of those require pretending you are already whole. In fact, transformation begins with honesty.

Many of the people you admire most likely carry weaknesses you never see. What sets them apart is not the absence of struggle. It is the refusal to let struggle silence their obedience. They step forward aware of their limitations, trusting that grace will meet them in motion. They do not wait until they feel fearless. They move while feeling afraid. They do not wait until they feel perfect. They move while feeling insufficient. That is courage shaped by dependence.

Your weakness may also be shaping compassion in you. The person who has wrestled with anxiety recognizes it in others. The one who has known financial strain sees it in the eyes of someone else. The one who has stumbled morally understands the complexity of temptation. That empathy is powerful. It allows you to speak not from theory but from experience. It gives weight to your words. It makes your presence healing rather than intimidating.

If you had never struggled, you might judge quickly. Because you have struggled, you extend grace. That is not accidental. That is formation.

There is also a hidden protection inside weakness. It guards you from pride. Success can be intoxicating. Applause can distort perspective. When you are painfully aware of your fragility, you are less likely to believe your own hype. You remember where your strength comes from. You remember the nights you doubted yourself. You remember the prayers that carried you. Weakness keeps you grounded.

Imagine for a moment that God removed every weakness you resent. Imagine you woke up tomorrow fearless, flawless, effortlessly confident. Would you pray the same way. Would you seek guidance with the same urgency. Would you lean into dependence with the same intensity. Or would you gradually trust yourself more than Him. It is possible that the very thing you want gone is the anchor that keeps you aligned.

We often ask for elevation without considering the weight it carries. Influence amplifies character. If weakness humbles you now, it may be preparing you to handle responsibility later. The scar may be shaping stability. The struggle may be deepening roots. The insecurity may be teaching reliance. What feels like a delay could be preparation.

Your story matters more than you think. Not the polished version. The real one. The setbacks. The doubts. The internal battles. Those details will one day become bridges to someone else. There are people who will listen to you not because you are perfect, but because you are honest. They will trust you because you do not pretend. They will lean in because your scars look like theirs.

There is something profoundly freeing about accepting that your usefulness does not depend on perfection. It allows you to breathe. It allows you to step into rooms without pretending. It allows you to speak without crafting an image. It allows you to serve without constantly measuring yourself against others. Comparison loses its grip when you stop trying to compete on strength alone.

If God intends to move through your weakness, then hiding it delays impact. Concealing it shrinks your reach. Covering it keeps others from seeing grace at work. When strength alone is visible, people applaud the individual. When weakness and grace coexist, people see something beyond the individual. They see God.

This perspective does not erase discomfort, but it reframes it. Instead of asking, why do I have this weakness, you begin asking, how might God use it. Instead of viewing it as a curse, you view it as context. Instead of resenting it, you explore it. That shift transforms internal tension into purpose.

You may still desire healing. That is natural. You may still pray for growth. That is wise. But you no longer postpone obedience until you feel flawless. You move forward with your humanity intact. You acknowledge the scar and step anyway. You admit the insecurity and lead anyway. You confess the doubt and trust anyway.

In doing so, you model something powerful. You demonstrate that faith is not the absence of struggle, but trust within it. You show that calling is not reserved for the flawless, but for the surrendered. You embody a truth that the world desperately needs to see: strength is not self-sufficiency. Strength is reliance.

There is a quiet courage in saying, this is my weakness, and I will not let it silence me. There is holy boldness in allowing God to work through what you once despised. There is beauty in discovering that the place you thought disqualified you is the place where grace shines brightest.

You are not an accident. Your wiring is not random. Even the areas you wish were different can become instruments in God’s hands. The scar you prayed away may be the seed of your calling. The insecurity you tried to bury may be the birthplace of empathy. The failure you tried to forget may be the testimony that sets someone free.

If you are willing to look honestly at your weakness instead of running from it, you may begin to see hints of purpose within it. You may notice that the very thing that humbles you also drives you to prayer. You may recognize that the struggle that frustrates you also keeps you close to God. You may realize that without that tension, you would drift toward pride or complacency.

The invitation is not to glorify weakness. It is to surrender it. It is to stop fighting the reality of your humanity and instead place it in the hands of the One who is not limited by it. It is to trust that divine power does not require flawless vessels, only willing ones.

And when you begin to live that way, something shifts inside you. Shame loosens. Fear softens. Comparison fades. You stop striving to impress and start striving to obey. You stop waiting to feel strong and start moving in trust. You discover that the weakness you carried like a weight can become a witness.

There is more to say about how this plays out in daily life, in leadership, in relationships, in private battles and public platforms, because this truth is not abstract. It is lived. It shapes how you pray, how you speak, how you show up when you feel inadequate. It transforms the way you interpret setbacks and the way you respond to criticism. It redefines success and reframes failure. And if you follow this thread far enough, you begin to see that the scar you once begged God to remove was never meant to be erased, but redeemed, and that redemption unfolds not in a single dramatic moment, but in the steady, daily choice to step forward in surrendered honesty rather than retreat into polished illusion, and that choice, repeated over time, becomes the foundation of a legacy that does not glorify human strength but magnifies divine grace, which is where this journey continues.

If weakness truly is a doorway and not a detour, then the question becomes deeply personal. What does this look like on an ordinary Tuesday morning when the alarm goes off and you still feel inadequate. What does it look like when you are about to step into a conversation that intimidates you. What does it look like when the memory of your past rises up and whispers that you are unworthy. What does it look like when you stand in front of opportunity and feel your insecurity tightening its grip.

It looks like obedience without pretending.

Most people assume courage is the absence of fear. In reality, courage is movement while fear is still present. The same is true with weakness. You do not wait for weakness to disappear before you act. You act in reliance while weakness remains. That shift feels subtle, but it is revolutionary. It dismantles the lie that you must be flawless to be faithful.

There are moments when your weakness will feel louder than your calling. You may hear internal dialogue that says you are too broken, too inconsistent, too emotional, too fragile, too inexperienced, too scarred. The voice of insecurity can sound convincing because it is familiar. You have heard it for years. It knows your history. It knows your failures. It knows the private battles no one else sees.

But there is another voice. It is quieter, but it is steady. It does not deny your weakness. It does not flatter you with false perfection. It simply reminds you that you are not walking alone. It reminds you that grace is not theoretical. It is active. It meets you in real time. It fills in gaps. It steadies shaking hands. It strengthens tired hearts.

When you begin to live from that awareness, your weakness no longer controls the narrative. It becomes part of the story, but not the conclusion. Instead of defining yourself by what you lack, you define yourself by the One who sustains you.

This perspective reshapes leadership. If you are in a position of influence, you know the pressure to appear confident. You feel the unspoken expectation to have answers. Yet some of the most powerful moments in leadership occur when you say, I do not know, but we will seek wisdom together. That humility builds trust. It invites collaboration. It models dependence on something greater than personal brilliance.

In relationships, weakness becomes a bridge rather than a barrier. When you admit your struggles instead of hiding them, intimacy deepens. Walls fall. Conversations move from surface to substance. You discover that vulnerability invites vulnerability. The courage to say, this is hard for me, often gives someone else permission to confess the same.

In parenting, weakness can teach your children more than your strength ever will. When they see you apologize, when they see you admit mistakes, when they see you pray for help, they learn that faith is not performance. It is pursuit. They learn that maturity is not pretending to have it all together. It is knowing where to turn when you do not.

Even in private battles, this truth transforms your posture. There will be nights when you feel exhausted by your own limitations. There will be seasons when progress seems slow. In those moments, you can either condemn yourself for not being stronger or you can lean deeper into grace. The difference between shame and surrender is where you direct your gaze. Shame fixates on self. Surrender fixes on God.

Weakness also recalibrates how you measure success. The world measures success by visible outcomes, by applause, by scale. The Kingdom measures success by faithfulness. Faithfulness sometimes looks unimpressive. It looks like showing up when you feel insecure. It looks like speaking truth when your voice trembles. It looks like continuing to trust when circumstances are unclear. Those quiet acts of obedience may never trend online, but they echo in eternity.

There is a hidden strength that develops in people who stop running from their weakness. It is not flashy. It is steady. It is resilient. It is the kind of strength that does not crumble under pressure because it was never built on self-confidence alone. It was built on reliance. That reliance becomes a foundation that outlasts emotion.

You may begin to notice that the very areas you once despised become sources of wisdom. The anxiety that drove you to prayer becomes the reason you can guide others through their storms. The failure that humbled you becomes the reason you speak with authenticity instead of arrogance. The insecurity that once paralyzed you becomes the reason you treat others gently. Your weakness becomes a teacher.

And slowly, almost without realizing it, you stop wishing it away.

This does not mean you stop growing. It does not mean you resign yourself to stagnation. It means you no longer see weakness as an enemy to destroy but as a context through which grace operates. You pursue healing, but you do not despise the process. You seek strength, but you understand its source.

There is also a sacred exchange that happens when you surrender weakness. You trade self-reliance for trust. You trade image for authenticity. You trade performance for presence. That exchange is not loud, but it is life altering. It releases you from the exhausting cycle of trying to prove yourself. You realize that you were never called to prove. You were called to trust.

Imagine what would change if you fully embraced this. Imagine walking into opportunities not because you feel qualified, but because you feel called. Imagine speaking not because you are flawless, but because you are faithful. Imagine loving not because you are unscarred, but because you have been healed enough to care deeply.

There are people waiting to encounter the version of you that is honest. They do not need your perfection. They need your testimony. They need to see that grace works in real life, in real struggle, in real weakness. They need to know that faith is not reserved for the emotionally unshakable. It is available to the dependent.

When your life reflects that truth, it points beyond you. It draws attention upward. Because when something meaningful emerges from obvious human fragility, observers instinctively recognize that something greater is at work. That is the beauty of surrendered weakness. It magnifies God rather than self.

One day you may look back and see a pattern you could not see in the moment. You may recognize that every insecurity drove you closer to prayer. You may notice that every failure softened your heart. You may realize that every scar positioned you to serve someone who felt alone. What once felt like a liability will reveal itself as preparation.

Legacy is not built on flawless strength. It is built on surrendered faithfulness. It is built on the daily decision to show up as you are and trust that God is enough. It is built on the willingness to let grace be visible in your gaps.

If you are still tempted to hide your weakness, ask yourself gently what hiding has cost you. Has it brought freedom or has it deepened fear. What might change if you brought that hidden place fully into the light before God. What might happen if you allowed Him to work there instead of around it.

You are not disqualified by your scars. You are being shaped by them. The weakness you prayed would disappear may be the very place where heaven intends to move most powerfully. And as you continue to surrender that place day after day, you will discover that the scar was never a mark of shame. It was the seed of your calling, planted deep, watered by tears, and destined to grow into something that reflects not your strength, but His sustaining grace.

Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph

Watch Douglas Vandergraph’s inspiring faith-based videos on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@douglasvandergraph

Support the ministry by buying Douglas a coffee: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/douglasvandergraph

We just texted, and I think I’m emotionally drained.

She won’t tell me explicitly what I did wrong, and tells me that she needs to rip into me and hold nothing back saying all the stuff for months that’s been hurting her. She says that I say cruel things and don’t change, but it is shitty because the things I heard her briefly mention yesterday were things verbal and that to me I stopped saying after she told me to, and she actually said right after saying it’s not ok to say that. So I can’t prove that I did listen. And on top of it, it feels like I can’t even try to convince her that some of the stuff she’s saying isn’t accurate, or that it is a miscommunication. It feels like for us to have a chance of reconciling, I need to just be the punching bag.

Throughout the relationship I tried to always proactively tell her that I want to listen or be there for her. She even admit how she has a problem bottling things up, and because of that these explosions keep happening. What the fuck can I do about that. I try to ask her, I listen patiently, even when she blows up I suck it up and listen. I think our conflict resolution or communication actually does need a lot of work. It doesn’t help that we’re both sensitive people. I think couples therapy would be a very important thing.

I just spent the last 2 hours getting ripped into over text and constantly apologizing, and I’m boomeranging. It hurts to think about how my asks and needs were ignored in conflicts, and I try my best to keep open communication. I can’t do much if she refuses to communicate.

I honestly think it’s so fucking unfair for her to want to just one-sided beat the fuck out of me verbally. It’s so fucked up that she broke up with me out of nowhere during my work, and she also ambushed me with her roommates. They ganged up on me, and while I’m begging them to stop for a second because I’m going to break down crying before an important meeting, they don’t give a shit. They laugh at me and mock me, and call me a piece of shit. That’s such a shitty thing to do, especially when I’ve tried my best to listen to her and be receptive. If she feels that way, she should have brought it up sooner instead of letting it fester this much and then taking it out on me.

A part of me wants to say that if she is this cruel and unreasonable, this isn’t at all fair to me. Even if she is compatible with me in so many of these other ways, this is honestly a dealbreaker if this is how she handles conflict. I’ve asked and patiently listened to her when I can, and yesterday we got into conflict because she pushed and asked after I asked for space. This isn’t at all fair to me. I don’t get how she can go from constantly feeling like a shitty partner and how I’m out of her league, to doing this.

It’s so desperately frustrating to feel like I have to beg and grovel and take this level of abuse. I don’t think this is fair at all. I kinda feel even less like I have a voice, because right now she’s like an emotional terrorist where I feel like I cannot say anything bad or ultimatum goes through. I’ve told her that this was a bridge that can’t really be walked back, and she still did it in such a violent way. Even her mom thought it was excessive.

I know that there are a lot of things about her that I love. I know there are a lot of things about me that are also very desirable in a partner. For fucks sake, she would talk about how it feels like I’m out of her league. I can’t help but feel like those feelings have boomeranged to this point, where she now has to make me the scapegoat and equalize all of the shitty feelings. It’s fucked because I feel like I get punished for things that aren’t my fault, or not reasonable. Whenever she has asked me something, I’ve listened. Similarly, when I’ve asked certain things of her she hasn’t followed them. I just don’t want this double standard.

Introduction

Hello, my name is Lacy.

This blog will be dedicated to discussions of personal experience combined with known facts/current research about autism and abuse/trauma. I have recently realized that it is my dream to promote autism awareness, as there is still way too much stigma, a lack of acceptance, and harmful stereotypes out there. A common example of the last is that autism has a certain “look” to it. Even less is currently known about how abuse/trauma effects show up in those of us who are autistic.

And, yes, I am autistic. I was first diagnosed at nine. I am also an abuse survivor as well as a recovering shopping addict and codependent. I also struggle with depression, derealization, and alexithymia. I currently self-suspect OCD, which I am planning to get evaluated for as soon as I can afford to.

In my case, depression shows up, not as a split personality exactly, but as its own form of patterns. Almost like a darker version of me that I named the Depression Queen in my college days. Depression does NOT care who you are, about your goals/ambitions in life, or your natural desire for peace and acceptance. All it cares about is destroying your very existence, and if you don't walk in resistance against it, that is exactly what it will do!

It is currently estimated that between 70%-90% of us autistics have at least one co-occurring mental health or neurological condition, such as ADHD or depression. I'm no exception, which is yet another motivator for me for doing this advocacy work.

I will be addressing all of the above and more in future posts.

I have a Bachelor's Degree in Psychology as well as formal training in abuse/addiction recovery coaching. For shopping addiction coaching, I highly recommend Behavioral Cents. I have also been active on various autism-related social media platforms, studied various works, such as Temple Grandin, and have personally known several other autistics. Many of the latter whom are also abuse/trauma survivors, and at least a couple who are higher support needs than I am. Some of them are not able to speak for themselves at all and I wholeheartedly agree that it is up to those at my level to help advocate for them as well.

Referral links:

-https://navicoresolutions.org/resources/blog/breaking-the-cycle-how-to-recognize-and-overcome-a-shopping-addiction

-https://enough-foundation.com/you-werent-born-codependent/?gad_source=1&gad_campaignid=12460832133&gbraid=0AAAAABqkYiUzLIQGFQXZs4DJlwrAevkdP&gclid=CjwKCAiAtLvMBhB_EiwA1u6_PjGWBgJLlUyi3SQJb8xEcs5ZienPTT3poC2i--tpjayuqai1ObFNkxoCuq0QAvD_BwE

-https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/depression/expert-answers/clinical-depression/faq-20057770

-https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/depersonalization-derealization-disorder/symptoms-causes/syc-20352911

-https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/basics/alexithymia

-https://jedfoundation.org/resource/understanding-obsessive-compulsive-disorder/?gad_source=1&gad_campaignid=14539275765&gbraid=0AAAAADNORRpqKtnAAvQ6tzpwN26xCL44i&gclid=CjwKCAiAtLvMBhB_EiwA1u6_PgsOiTTgO0peZz7CXaPF7ViZ-iLoZoWTFEunwBIa92SSL-HheZlgYhoC1GwQAvD_BwE

-https://ucebt.com/autism-co-occuring-conditions/#:~:text=1.,Common%20and%20May%20Present%20Differently

-https://www.psychiatry.org/patients-families/adhd/what-is-adhd

-https://behavioralcents.com/

-https://www.templegrandin.com/

Hoje eu acordei com uma vontade absurda de te beijar…

Acordei te procurando na cama, como se fosse possível você estar ali.

Te desejo tanto que o sentimento é quase palpável.

Hoje está difícil fazer absolutamente qualquer coisa; você não sai da minha cabeça nem mesmo um segundo, não me permite dividir espaço com nenhuma outra tarefa.

Vai ficar mais fácil? Eu não quero que fique. Não quero me acostumar novamente com a sua ausência, com a sua saudade. Não gosto da ideia de que você sempre será apenas um sonho bom. 

Te amo com tudo que tenho, 

do seu eterno namorado, 

Nathan.

Shifting Gears Tonight

This won't come as a surprise to anyone who has known me for very long. Tonight rater than tunng into the radio call of a college basketball game, I'll be listening to the Fresh From Florida 250 NASCAR Truck Series Race. I am a NASCAR and an INDYCAR Race fan, a basketball, baseball, and football fan. As their seasons become active I'll switch from one sport to another, from night to night as the spirit moves me.

Mick’s arrived in Chiba City at some point in the future, and needs coffee…

The rain here didn’t fall, right? It sort of hissed. Hissed like a radiator needing bleeding.

Mick stood under an awning that was flashing blue, then pink, then a sort of angry green. Chiba City. The brochure said Neon Jewel of the East. Mick said it was a wet bloody headache with too many wires.

He needed a coffee. Not a stim-shot. Not a Caf-Pow! energy patch slapped on the jugular. He wanted a mug. Ceramic. Hot. Brown liquid that tasted like burnt beans and morning regret.

—Excuse me, pal, Mick said to a passing drone that looked like a floating toaster. The toaster ignored him.

His head was thumping. The jet lag—or the orbital lag, whatever they called it—felt like someone had taken a spanner to the back of his neck.

—Coffee, he muttered, stepping into the crowd.

The pavement was moving. Actually moving. He had to hop off it onto a static bit of grate to get his bearings. People were walking past with visors on, their eyes glowing white, muttering to people who weren’t there.

—Madness, Mick said. —Absolute state of it.

He saw a sign. THE ROAST.

—Result.

He pushed through a door that slid open with a sound like a sigh. Inside, it smelled of ozone and damp wool, not coffee. A robot with six arms was wiping the counter.

—Tea? The robot asked. Its voice was smooth, like velvet.

—Coffee, Mick said.

—Black. No sugar. And put it in a mug, yeah? None of that pouch rubbish.

—We have Nutri-Sludge Mocha, Star Dust Espresso, and Void Black Stim.

—Just coffee, for fuck sake!

He leaned on the counter. He was so tired he could have slept standing up.

—Just hot water and beans. You got beans?

—Beans are Class C restricted organic matter, the robot said brightly.

—Would you like a warm cup of grey nutrient paste?

Mick looked at the robot. The robot looked at Mick.

—Is it hot? Mick asked.

—Boiling!

—Go on then, Mick sighed.

—Give us the grey stuff. And don't skimp on the heat.

On a Thursday in December 2024, just over a year ago, a conference for library staff from across the North East of England was held at Newcastle City Library, entitled Culture, Creativity and Collaboration. One of the keynote speakers was Arts Council England’s Director of Libraries, Luke Barton, who gave a talk centred on artificial intelligence.

One of the central themes of his talk, and the idea that stayed with me most clearly, was this: just as public library staff have been instrumental over the past thirty years in helping people learn to use computers, we will likely play a similar role as artificial intelligence becomes more present in everyday life. From email and internet use to the foundational applications that modern society now relies on, libraries have long acted as places where people can encounter new technologies with support, patience, and without judgement. The suggestion was that this quiet, steady work is far from finished. It is simply being carried forward in new contexts.

One of the main ideas Luke raised was that public library staff may increasingly help people differentiate between authentic and inauthentic information and imagery. This may well prove to be the case as AI becomes more widespread. However, my day-to-day experience so far suggests that the initial way people are likely to encounter AI in the public library will unfold differently in practice. Before questions of authenticity arise, what most people will notice first is AI’s potential as a set of effective, practical tools.

For many people, the initial encounter with AI follows a familiar pattern. The impact of incredibly realistic AI generated images arrives loudly, and the implications of this understandably demand attention. There are immediate questions about using technology to replace our need to write, to craft, to create, and what that might mean for us as thinking, creative beings. This is where much public discussion currently sits: AI as a force of disruption, generating content that competes with human work. Meanwhile, a different mode of AI is already being used more quietly and consistently: AI as an assistant, capable, responsive, and ready to be deployed in steady, practical ways. These two faces of the technology, the spectacular and the supportive, operate on different timescales and provoke different responses. One arrives as a challenge to existing practices. The other settles in as an enhancement of them. At the public library desk, it is primarily this second, quieter form that people are likely to encounter first.

Example #1: Library patron asking for advice

A library patron approached the desk looking for help with her photos. She has many saved across various devices, which she did not have with her at the time. She wants to keep them within her Apple ecosystem and stop them from saving to Google apps from previous devices and historical settings.

Amongst the staff, we have varied levels of technical knowledge, often leaning more towards Apple or Google / Android depending on our own usage. Without the patron’s devices in front of us, enquiries like this can be tricky and often rely on partial knowledge or educated guesswork. More commonly, we would ask the patron to bring the devices in on another visit so we could work through it together.

However, we now have an alternative.

In the examples that follow, the AI tool in use is Microsoft Copilot, abbreviated here as CP. This reflects its integration into our existing Windows environment, and the fact that it is currently the only AI assistant formally available for staff use within our organisation.

CP prompt: Patron has an Apple iPad and an iPhone. Her photos are still being stored on Google from previous settings. How does she change settings so that her photos are just on Apple devices?

CP response: Copilot produced a clear, library friendly explanation that could be passed directly to the patron. It presented an easily followable numbered list of general instructions, written in plain language, avoiding unnecessary jargon and assuming no specialist knowledge. Crucially, the steps were structured in a way that worked just as well on paper as on screen. This was printed off for the patron to take home. The hope is that she can not only change the relevant settings herself, but also gain a better understanding of how her devices are managing her data. In doing so, we have potentially avoided a return trip, but more importantly, we have enabled her to engage more confidently with the technology she already owns.

The enquiry desk itself is a kind of threshold space. It sits between public and private, confidence and uncertainty, familiarity and first encounter. People arrive with partial knowledge, half formed questions, and varying degrees of comfort with technology. In that space, the role of the library is not to introduce tools for their own sake, but to meet people where they are, using whatever means are most appropriate to help them move forward.

At the public library desk, context matters. Who is present, what the question is really about, and how much information someone is ready to take in at that moment. Using AI in this setting is rarely something to announce or foreground. The focus remains on the task in hand. A degree of discretion is often required, out of sensitivity to the situation, the person in front of you, and the working context more broadly. This is simply the time we are in.

Example #2: Patron trying to identify a book from memory

A patron was looking for a general history of the world that he had briefly picked up at his sister’s house over Christmas. He could not remember the author or the exact title, only aspects of the book’s contents. He recalled that it was a relatively recent popular history, with chapters focusing on land and border disputes.

Without an author, title or publication date, this kind of enquiry would usually involve a broad catalogue search, some educated guessing, and possibly asking the patron to return if more details came back to him. It can be a frustrating process for both staff and borrower, particularly when the book feels just out of reach.

CP prompt: A particular general history of the world, chapters on land disputes, border disputes, relatively recent publication, popular history, title something like A Brief History of the World.

CP response: Copilot interpreted the description as a search problem rather than a request for a single answer. It produced a short, curated list of recently published popular histories of the world, explicitly highlighting those with chapter level focus on borders, land, and territorial disputes, and titles similar to the one described.

The first book in the list was the correct one: A Brief History of the World in 47 Borders by Jonn Elledge.

The patron was delighted, not only by the speed with which the book was identified, but by the fact that his vague recollection had been treated as a valid starting point rather than an obstacle. He was able to place a request immediately from one of our sister branches.

What made this interaction successful was not simply access to a large body of information, but the ability to work productively with uncertainty. In this case, CP acted less as a source of knowledge and more as an intermediary between partial human memory and the library’s existing systems. Used in this way, it allowed staff to meet the patron where he was, translating an imprecise description into something actionable, and turning a fragile, easily dismissed enquiry into something that could be acted on immediately.

Enquiries like this are common at a public library desk. People often arrive with incomplete information, uncertain memory, or a sense that what they have to offer may not be enough. Traditional systems tend to assume clarity, a title, an author, a correct term. When those are missing, the risk is that the enquiry stalls, or that the person feels they have reached the limits of what can be done. What makes the desk different is that uncertainty is not treated as a problem to be corrected, but as a normal starting point. Help can be shaped around what is present, rather than what is absent. In this context, tailored assistance matters because it can adapt as the conversation unfolds, responding to hesitations, partial recall, and changing emphasis. Generic tools struggle here not because they lack information, but because they are not designed for this kind of human exchange. The value lies in the mediation, in recognising when something vague is still worth pursuing, and in knowing how to carry it forward.

Example #3: Reader looking to move beyond a single author

A patron was looking for new authors within the espionage fiction genre. They had enjoyed the novels of John le Carré but were struggling to find other writers who might suit their tastes. They were keen to avoid anything that felt overtly imitative, and specifically wanted work engaging with modern political conditions, contemporary technologies, and present-day global tensions, rather than historical Cold War settings.

We are accustomed to using a small number of online resources and recommendation tools for this kind of enquiry, often supplemented by staff knowledge and experience. While these can be useful, they tend to produce fairly generic results and do not always adapt well to the subtleties of a reader’s preferences, particularly when someone is looking for a tone or sensibility rather than a direct analogue.

CP prompt: A reader enjoys John le Carré but is looking for modern espionage fiction dealing with contemporary politics and technology, without direct imitation.

CP response: CP produced a tailored list of authors and specific titles that matched the request, accompanied by brief explanations of why each recommendation might appeal. In addition, it offered a secondary list of suggestions that were slightly broader or adjacent to the brief. These were potential next steps if the patron felt inclined to explore further. This created a set of options with different degrees of proximity to the original preference, rather than a single, rigid recommendation.

The strength of this interaction lay in how closely the recommendations were shaped around the individual reader, rather than around a fixed set of categories or comparisons. Instead of producing a single, static list, the suggestions could be adjusted in response to hesitation, clarification, or curiosity as the conversation unfolded. Preferences could be refined, boundaries tested, and the scope narrowed or widened without losing the thread of what the reader was actually looking for. In this sense, CP did not replace existing readers advisory tools so much as extend them. Used at the desk, it supported a more conversational and exploratory form of guidance that reflects how people usually talk about books they care about, allowing that talk to develop naturally rather than forcing it into predetermined pathways.

Interactions like these do not take place in isolation. They happen within shared working spaces, alongside colleagues with different levels of confidence, interest, and experience with digital tools. Curiosity and hesitation often coexist, sometimes in the same person. Ethical concerns are also a significant factor. As elsewhere, staff bring a range of views about artificial intelligence into the workplace, and some may choose not to engage with these tools at all on that basis. These positions are not abstract. They sit alongside practical considerations of workload, timing, and comfort, and must be taken seriously. New ways of working are rarely adopted all at once. They tend to emerge unevenly, tested in low stakes moments, discussed informally between colleagues, and shaped as much by shared values as by technical capability. What matters is not uniform enthusiasm or expertise, but the space to ask questions, to observe what works, and to decide, collectively and individually, what feels appropriate to bring into everyday practice.

Example #4: Staff development during a quiet period

A quiet morning in the week between Christmas and New Year provided some rare breathing space at the desk. With fewer immediate enquiries, it became a good opportunity to catch up on gaps in staff knowledge. In this case, everyday use of Microsoft Windows. Many of us have been using these applications for years, often by habit, improvisation, and workarounds rather than formal understanding.

With CP now available, we effectively have an expert sitting quietly in the corner of the screen, able to help with almost any aspect of software we have previously just made do with.

One small but telling example was the split screen option in Windows, where a menu appears offering different layout styles. Having only ever triggered this accidentally, I thought it would be useful to know how to bring it up deliberately and use it properly. Previously, this kind of question might have gone unanswered, been solved via a quick web search, or simply ignored in favour of continuing with familiar but suboptimal methods. Learning tended to be reactive rather than intentional and often felt disconnected from the flow of daily work.

CP prompt: That split screen option in Windows, where a menu comes up showing different styles of split screen: how do I bring that up on purpose and use it properly?

CP response: CP immediately identified the feature in question as Snap Layouts in Windows 11 and explained how to access it intentionally. The response was clear, practical, and framed in plain language, focusing on exactly the behaviour I had described rather than assuming prior knowledge or correct terminology.

What stood out here was not the feature itself, but the way learning took place. The question arose from direct experience at the desk during an otherwise unremarkable shift. Rather than being deferred, ignored, or solved through trial and error, it could be addressed immediately, in language that matched how the problem had been noticed in the first place. This kind of interaction supports staff learning as part of everyday work rather than something set apart from it. Small uncertainties can be resolved when they arise, without formal training or specialist knowledge, and without drawing attention to gaps in confidence. Over time, these incremental moments add up, quietly strengthening familiarity and ease with the tools already in use.

None of the examples above are intended as a model to be adopted wholesale, or as an argument for how public libraries should be using artificial intelligence. They reflect particular moments, particular people, and particular judgements made in context. In each case, the technology itself is only part of what is at work. The outcomes depend just as much on timing, discretion, and an understanding of when a tool is useful, and when it is not.

There are questions here that remain open. How trust is built and maintained. How staff confidence develops over time. How ethical concerns are acknowledged and respected within shared working environments. How new tools can be explored without displacing the values that already underpin public library work. These are not questions with settled answers, and they are unlikely to be resolved by policy statements or technical guidance alone.

For now, it may be enough to notice what is already happening quietly at the desk. Small, situational uses of AI that sit alongside existing practices rather than replacing them. Moments where uncertainty is treated as workable. Instances where things that might otherwise stall are able to move, often in small and unremarkable ways.

Vi har lært mye de siste ukene om Terje Rød-Larsen og Mona Juuls tvilsomme affærer og imponerende venneliste via Epstein-filene. Et av navnene som ikke har kommet opp direkte, er Jens Stoltenberg. Men det kommer opp indirekte. 

I mars 2014 skriver Jeffrey Epstein til Bill Gates at “another Norwegian” tar over som “head of NATO” – “now you know”. Lite oppsiktsvekkende I seg selv, for dette var samme dag som Stoltenberg ble utnevnt som NATO-sjef. Men Epstein supplerer: “terje wife de facto security advisor . soon to be ambassador to london.”

Her antyder altså Epstein at Mona Juul, kona til hans gode venn Terje Rød-Larsen, er en slags sikkerhetsrådgiver for Stoltenberg i den nye rollen. Kanskje skryter han bare for å gjøre seg selv mer interessant for Gates? 

Om det er tomt skryt eller ikke, fortsetter det i alle fall. I september 2016 skriver Epstein til tech-oligarken Peter Thiel at han skal snakke med “head of nato later”. Et år senere skriver Epstein til en indisk milliardær (på den tiden en av verdens rikeste menn): «If you want a private dinner with head of NATO I Will organize , but not attend”. 

Vi vet at Stoltenbergs kone Ingrid Schulerud er nær venninne av Mona Juul. Så gode venner at ekteparet Stoltenberg fikk låne leiligheten ved flere anledninger. Blant annet da de pusset opp boligen sin i Oslo. Det er den samme leiligheten Jeffrey Epstein var svært behjelpelig med å skaffe til Rød-Larsen og Juul til en gunstig pris. 

Dette er små drypp. Kanskje bare eksempler på at Epstein forsøker å gi et falskt inntrykk av at han kan skaffe tilgang til Stoltenberg gjennom sin venn Terje. Uansett er det verdt å kikke nærmere på. 

Que estas cartas mantenham o caminho aberto,

e que te guiem até mim,

como a luz guia quem se perdeu na noite,

como o coração reconhece, sem erro, aquilo que sempre foi seu.

Que cada palavra seja um passo,

cada linha, um reencontro silencioso,

e que, mesmo quando tudo parecer distante,

que você ainda encontre em mim o lugar onde sempre pertenceu.

1. I love playing Wordle with you every day. I think it’s really cute how I sometimes get stuck and I look at your words because I know that you’ll use steak probably.

2. I love that I get to feel smart and teach you little things here and there, you’re a really good student and an even better listener.

3. I really love the fact that you let me lecture at you, like in the shower. I know that you’re tired and when it’s late or a long day you probably don’t want to learn about RSA encryption or something about math, but you still listen to me and let me gush and write over the walls.

4. I think you put up with a lot, and also for a lot of time. I think I was in the wrong for sometimes making my insecurities your fault. For example if I felt unattractive, I should’ve asked her for help with that instead of blaming you for making me feel that way. It was really kind of you to still try really hard when I was being a dick about it.

5. Even though we’re in very different financial situations, the fact that we go 50-50 on things and you also treat me is really fucking sweet of you.

6. I know I’ve been putting a lot of pressure on you, but even through that you still put in so much effort to accommodate the things I ask, like me talking about how I want to be listened to.

7. I used to think about how it would be almost impossible for me to find someone who would be able to get me, because I would require them to be someone who was raised seriously online while also being well adjusted. You’re that person.

8. I don’t want you to force yourself to be there for me when I ask for it, but that being said when I do ask for it you push yourself so hard to be there for me. I believe a lot in intentions mattering, and there’s no purer intention than that.

9. Hugging you just makes my body relax and my mind go quiet. I feel safe in your arms.

10. You’ve indulged every one of my fantasies, even when it’s something out of your comfort zone.

11. Even though it’s an insecurity of yours, you let me have tummy time. You’re my personal stuffed animal.

12. You carried me to diamond 2 on DPS by pocketing me, letting me play pharmercy. I don’t queue up because I don’t have you supporting me. Before you I literally was struggling to get to plat on DPS.

13. The fact that I can play these games with you, and you’re GOOD at them. Like you’re my duoq, and you’re fun to play with, you don’t get tilted to the point where it’s not fun, and you want to play with me. That’s a dream I never even dared think about because I thought it’d be impossible.

14. I’d happily eat cup-o-noodles for months straight and instead spend the money on the stuff I got so that you can have a setup next to mine. I think about the first post you made of us playing overwatch next to each other.

15. It’s a core memory to me when we turn showers into water gun fights with our mouths. You let me do such stupid things with you, and match my energy so well.

Lydia's Weekly Lifestyle blog is for today's African girl, so no subject is taboo. My purpose is to share things that may interest today's African girl.

This week's contributors: Lydia, Pépé Pépinière, Titi. This week's subjects: Effortless Transitions: From Boardroom Meetings to Evening Soirées, PFAS and Fashion, Valentines and the Chinese, Shop right or shop wrong? and Ga Kenkey and dare to be different

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Effortless Transitions: From Boardroom Meetings to Evening Soirées. The Corporate Girl’s Guide to Day-to-Night Slay. There’s a certain rhythm to life in Accra — the soft hum of morning traffic, the steady buzz of boardroom discussions, and the glittering pulse of evening rooftops. The modern corporate girl in this city isn’t just working; she’s thriving. Her days stretch from high-stakes meetings in East Legon to late-evening networking mixers at Skybar. And through it all, she manages to look impeccably put-together — polished by day, radiant by night. So how does she pull it off? Simple: she’s mastered the art of effortless transitions. Start Strong: The Power Base: Your base outfit is everything. Think sleek, versatile, and comfortable. A well-fitted sheath dress in a neutral tone (charcoal, ivory, or deep olive) can glide seamlessly from the boardroom to a cocktail lounge. Or, go for a chic wide-leg trouser and silk blouse combo — breathable for Accra’s heat and classy enough for the CEO’s gaze. Pro tip: Choose lightweight fabrics that won’t crease while you’re conquering your day. Nobody wants “meeting wrinkles” at a soirée. Swap & Slay: The Accessories Game: Accessories are your transformation tools. During the day, go minimal — a structured tote, simple studs, and a nude heel. But as dusk approaches, it’s your cue to switch gears. Swap your tote for a small statement clutch, change your studs for gold hoops or bold earrings, and if you dare — slip into strappy heels. Just that, and you’re red-carpet ready without breaking a sweat (or your schedule). PFAS and Fashion. PFAS stands for Per- and Polyfluoroalkyl Substances, a group of synthetic chemicals used in products like non-stick cookware, firefighting foam, tires and stain-resistant coatings. They're known as “forever chemicals” due to their persistence in the environment and in the human body. The main concerns are ⁠environmental persistence, PFAS don't break down easily, contaminating soil, water and air, and also health risks, they are linked to issues like cancer and thyroid problems. But the tide starts to turn. In California major tire manufacturers are being sued because their PFAS have poisoned river and lake waters and killed fish. Now the European Union, with Denmark and France in the lead, and several states in the USA want to ban PFAS altogether this year. Tests have been done on Chinese Shein and Temu products and many contain PFAS. So the European textile industry hopes to curtail these cheap Chinese suppliers by banning products with PFAS. Forgetting that most textiles they import, whether from China, India, Pakistan, Vietnam, Bangladesh, contain Pfas to some degree. So if the consumer needs to be protected then the textile industry, and many other industries, will have to change. What is important here is the court cases against the tire manufacturers. If the government does not do its consumer protection job properly because of the lobby from industry, then the public should indeed take these industries, and their own governments to court.

Valentines and the Chinese. I already see the kiosk thrift sellers turning their showrooms into red, Valentines is on the way. I pray that nobody is dumb enough to commit suicide because no one invited her. Invite to where? I guess everyone has his own budget, though hampers are going from 250 upwards to several thousands. Business is business. And these days we see more and more Chinese in town, not only for the galamsey, including their youngsters, and these youngsters thus naturally chase young girls. Girl look for boy, boy look for girl. To take them out for Valentines, and maybe more. Take them out to where? To a Chinese restaurant of course.

Shop right or shop wrong? If you go to Shopright Osu to buy tea you may get the following: Lipton tea, 20 pouches 50 grams for 19.99 GHC. That's 399.80 GHC per kg, say 400. So better buy a big box, 200 grams at 139 GHC. Cheaper. Cheaper? 695, say 700 GHC per kg. What? Yes, you read this correctly. And as much as supermarkets have their marketing tricks, like putting the cheapest article very low or so high that you don’t easily see it, or putting candies near the cashier so that you'll give in to your moaning kid they've now gone into actually cheating. 5 cost 5, and 10 cost 12. On purpose. It was recently reported in a European consumer protection magazine. It's on purpose. You assume that a bigger packaging is more economic, but sometimes it is not, you need to check. And as most have difficulty with calculating the supermarkets get away with it, with your money. Beware. I guess the others are just doing the same thing, and in Shoprite it is not the first time I noticed this trick. Maxmart can even out do that, the article is priced on the shelf say at 47 GHC, but the cashier prints 67. Who checks?

Ga Kenkey and dare to be different. We decided to have a bit of a soirée, dress up and serve nice food, soft sax music in the background. So we had Ga kenkey with beef and goat kebabs with Dagomba barbecue spices from Ash to get away from the rather same tasting chinchinga everyone uses, white vermouth with ice and lemon from Noilly Prat (Martini is just a vermouth brand name) Vodka (cheap brand) with ice and to finish it off Val d’Oca brut millesimato Prosecco denomazione di origine controllato and vanilla ice cream from Tipsy Gelato. Lovely evening, deep talk, and in fact more fun than an upscale restaurant. And very little cleaning up to do afterwards.

Lydia...

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Affrètement coque nue – Sanctions – Emploi du navire – Droit anglais – HCJ

https://www.bailii.org/ew/cases/EWHC/Comm/2025/2033.pdf

Un cas tordu avec plusieurs points de contentieux concernant la vente d'un pétrolier pour 13 mio $ via un bareboat qui finit mal à cause du refus d'un voyage impliquant des intervenants sous sanctions. 

C'est cette seule partie qui m'intéresse ici. 

Savory Shipping, une Sté de l'armateur grec George Gialozoglou a conclu en février 2019 une bareboat cp avec Ceto Shiping pour 36 mois, tout en conservant la gestion technique. 

A l'issue des 36 mois, la propriété du bateau serait transférée à l'affréteur pour autant que, selon la clause 39-1, ce dernier “paid all hire and any other sums due under this Charter and… all management fees and any other sums due under the Management Agreement...“. 

D'autre part, la clause 25 indiquait, amongst other, Savory shipping “...shall not be obliged to comply with the provisions of this Agreement if in the reasonable judgment ... it will expose them or their insurers, re-insurers, crew, registered owners, to any sanction … imposed by any State…” 

Je passe sur les nombreuses péripéties, non sans mentionner un addendum de décembre 2019 par lequel, entre autres, l'Iran était une zone exclue, ce qui n'empêcha jamais Ceto Shipping de continuer à y charger. 

En avril 2020, le 'Victor 1' a été sous-affrété par Ceto shipping à Imperium pour le chargement d'une cargaison d'essence iranienne à destination de Trinidad & Tobago. L'armateur a refusé d'effectuer le voyage, craignant que cela ne constitue une violation des sanctions américaines contre l'Iran, ainsi que contre le Venezuela, soupçonnant que la cargaison d'essence était in fine destinée au Venezuela, un des intervenants étant également soupçonné d'être une personne sanctionnée ayant des liens avec Maduro. 

Grosse embrouille, refus du transfert de propriété et, finalement, vente du navire aux enchères à Singapour en décembre 2023 pour ± 11 mio $ ! 

Tout est intéressant quand on aime comprendre comment ce genre d'opération tourne à la cata, mais je reviens spécifiquement à la question des sanctions. 

Dans l'affaire du 'Catalan Sea', la HCJ a reproché l'armateur d'avoir refusé de prendre une cargaison qu'il estimait problématique, bien qu'il ait abondamment documenté les liens douteux de son affréteur, ici, la HCJ, sous la plume de Dame Sara C., même si l'armateur “did not take legal advice” mais simplement “enter into discussions with other shipowner stakeholders in the Greek market as to their information” (#275) a été convaincue qu'il pouvait refuser le voyage controversé. 

La décision fait 69 pages... mais “the centre of gravity of the trial” commence  au #230 de la page 42. Miss Sara développe la question du 'reasonable judgment', et aussi s'interroge de savoir si l'armateur “make any judgment in good faith”(*). 

(23-9-25 – E&OE – Without prejudice)