while i was watching for the first time, i wrote down my favorite lines. here’s a list!
i just noticed how it’s not from every season??? i might have to rewatch…
mickey- “Well, this ain't Macy's, bitch. You ain't window-shopping.”
gross guy- “he gave me blue balls” mickey- kicks him “now they’re black and blue balls”
kev- “hey debs, you know svetlana?” debbie- “of course, she’s my brother’s lover’s baby mama.”
carl- “i want a fucking lawyer motherfucker”
lawyer- “and one with a ruptured testicle!” carl- “it was gym, i wanted to play kickball.”
random lady frank was fucking “go stick your dick in an ice cream cake and nuture your inner child.”
carl- “do the shocker.” debbie- “the shocker?” carl- “two in the pink one in the stink.”
svetlana- “my marriage was too violent, low IQ, homosexual, and i don’t care.”
kev- “it’s moo motherfucker, it’s moo.”
carl- “american first, motherfuckers.”
fiona- “i haven’t thought about you in weeks!” debbie holding knife- “we’ve thought about you though.”
terry- “milkovich’s don’t bottom.” ian- “was mickey adopted?”
the entire scene in 9/13 34:40 lost carl fight scene
season 10 episode 2 first scene coleslaw dick
ian- “do you think it’s genetic. us falling in love with crazy people. frank and monica, me and mickey.” lip- “me and karen.” lip- “me and mandy.” lip- “i think tami is the least craziest so far
debbie- “why are people super racist against redheads, they think we all look alike. frank calls me ‘ian’ like, twice a week.
mickey- “stole this ugly piece of shit? what’s wrong with you? you know what? get up. now, you are gonna hand this back to the nice little nerd that works at the store.” stealing lady- “jesus.” mickey- “yeah, you don’t like that? ‘cause then you’re gonna go buy me a fucking orange julius”
paula- “had to have dinner with larry and his wife at the olive garden. ugh, those kids. one of them’s into magic. kept making the bread sticks disappear. i wanted to tell him, “that’s not a trick. you’re just a fat fuck, but whatever.”
liam- “these are putting me to sleep. nobody wants to date their youth pastor from their grandma’s church.”
kev- “do you want your name under pussy of the day? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT JASPER?”
mickey- “ho ho ho! happy birthday, franny. look what i bought you. these are from me, okay? only me, your favorite uncle! flips off ian” franny- “yay, guns!” mickey- “guns!”
mickey- “get off your fucking high horses. anybody here feel like they’re the product of good parenting, raise your hand.”
franny- “play liquor store robbery with uncle mickey?”
ian- all calm “hit my husband again, i’ll fucking kill you.” lip- “right.”
ian- “and where the hell were you on january six, eva braun?”
ian- “no. gotta go. we can’t be late to the zionist sex-trafficking cabal meeting at the fucking pizza hut!” mickey- “oh, shit, we gettin’ pizza? yeahh, i’m starvin’!”
mickey- “man i hate the fucking gays. with all their meh and their bleh”
mickey- “not my type.” sammi- “bet i could be.” mickey- “bet you couldn’t.” sammi- “what’s your type?” mickey- “redhead.” sammi- “i am downstairs. mickey- “batshit crazy.” sammi- “check.” mickey- “packing 9 inches.” sammi- sighs and walks away
cole- “i’m gonna simone biles that dick tonight.”
mickey- “what am i? a fucking scientist?” (he means psychologist)
mickey- “oh haha. they got the machines hooked up and everything.” iggy- “yeah. all ready to make those non fat fagachinos. no offense, bro.”
mickey- “yo, go take a leak.” carlos- “don’t need too.” mickey- “go do yoga?- sing fucking taylor swift i don’t give a shit! get out of the fucking car! go!”
liam- “hello, father.” frank- “what do you want?” liam- “are you coming to the wedding?” frank- “you’re getting married?” liam- “i’m ten. ian. this afternoon.” frank- “oh, yeah? good for him. who’s the lucky lady-man?” liam- “mickey milkovich.” frank- scoffs “as if your brother’s gene pool wasn’t challenged enough already.”
kev- “i mean, sometimes i wish i was gay, you know.” lip- “sure, yeah.” kev- “marry your best friend. blow jobs. make eachother sandwiches—“ veronica- “kevin!”
heavy thud and tina screams carl- “what the hell? what’s going on in there?” tina- “i think he’s dead. my vagina killed him. crying”
franny- “i’m gonna get you!” mickey- “blow my brains out, kid. come on!” franny- “okay, okay!” mickey- “go ahead.” franny- “i got you, you’re dead! i shot you!”
ian and mickey fighting (season 11 ep 3) veronica- “UH UH. HEY! HEY!” hits ian’s ankle with pool stick. also v- “no, sir! no, sir! not in mama’s house.” kev filming with a huge grin on his face
veronica- “finally, i don’t care who’s the top and who’s the bottom. you fight in my bar again, i’m cutting both of your dicks off. then ain’t bo one topping anyone.” sassy walk to pot brownies
dot- “the election results were hacked by communists in venezuela.” mickey- “shit.” ian- “venezuela? what the hell have you been smoking lady?” mickey- “where the fuck is venezuela anyway?”
carl- “i need to know, where the gay wieners go.” lip- looks over bunk bed confused. carl- stares off into space with his bald head lip- “you know how you plunge a toilet when it’s backed up?” carl- “yeah?” lip- “think of it as one dude plunging another dudes toilet.”

My name is John, and I used to be a successful financial advisor with a promising future. But life took an unexpected turn when I went through a devastating divorce. The pain of separation tore at my soul, leaving me broken and lost. In my despair, I sought solace in the only comfort I could find—food. Slowly, my once-toned physique expanded, and I found myself trapped in the clutches of a vicious cycle.
With each bite, I felt a temporary escape from my inner turmoil. The food became my refuge, a fleeting moment of relief from the overwhelming sadness that engulfed me. But as the weight piled on, so did my self-loathing. I despised what I saw in the mirror, the reflection of a broken man who had lost control of his own life. "How did I let it come to this?" I would ask myself, the despair heavy in my voice.
The cycle seemed unbreakable, an unyielding force that pushed me further into the depths of my own self-destruction. The battle between my desires and my self-control raged within me, with each defeated attempt only reinforcing my sense of failure. "I'm trapped," I would mutter to the empty room, my voice filled with resignation.
As my waistline expanded, so did my isolation. Friends and family grew distant, invitations dwindled, and I retreated further into my own self-imposed prison. The more I ate, the more I withdrew from the world, sinking deeper into a sedentary existence. The echoes of my own loneliness reverberated through the empty rooms, each moment of silence a reminder of the emptiness I felt. "I'm alone," I would whisper, the weight of the words heavy on my heart.
The weight gain brought with it a suffocating darkness, shrouding me in depression and amplifying my sense of worthlessness. I felt like a shadow of my former self, robbed of vitality and purpose. "Who am I now?" I would question, the uncertainty in my voice palpable.
I felt trapped, both physically and emotionally, unable to break free from the chains that bound me. The cycle had become my reality, a vicious dance that dictated my every move. Little did I know that my darkest days were yet to unfold.
The days turned into a blur of desolation as my depression deepened. The weight of my self-inflicted misery grew heavier with each passing moment. There were moments when I would stare into the abyss of my own despair, feeling utterly consumed by the darkness that seemed to seep into every corner of my existence. "Will this emptiness ever end?" I would cry out in silent desperation.
Hoping for a glimmer of hope, I sought help from a doctor, praying for a way out of the abyss I had fallen into. The doctor's words were filled with compassion but also stark reality. They advised me to make significant lifestyle changes—exercise, eat healthier, and take care of my mental well-being. It sounded simple, but I knew deep down that breaking free from this vicious cycle would be an arduous battle, one that seemed almost insurmountable.
I followed the doctor's advice and tried medications and counseling, desperately clinging to the belief that they would be the panacea to my pain. However, the pills only brought temporary relief, masking the underlying anguish without truly addressing its roots. The counseling sessions, though helpful to some extent, felt like merely scratching the surface of the deep-seated wounds that plagued me. "Will I ever find solace? Or am I destined to be trapped in this torment forever?" I questioned, the despair in my voice growing.
Just when I thought I had hit rock bottom, fate dealt me an even crueler blow. I suffered a stroke, a shocking wake-up call to the toll my unhealthy lifestyle had taken on my body. I found myself in a hospital bed, immobilized and stripped of any semblance of control. The fear of losing everything—my health, my independence, and any chance at redemption—gripped me like a vice. As I lay there, vulnerable and fragile, the weight of my choices bore down on me with merciless force. "Is this the consequence of my self-destruction? Have I reached the point of no return?" I whispered, the words barely escaping my trembling lips.
Upon being discharged from the hospital, I returned to a life that was unrecognizable. The familiar comfort of my home was replaced by the stark reality of an empty apartment. It was a chilling reminder that my ex-spouse, driven to desperation by mounting medical bills, had sold our house to cover the expenses of my care. The emptiness echoed through the vacant rooms, mirroring the hollowness within me. I stood there, overwhelmed by a sense of loss, as the weight of my past mistakes settled upon my shoulders. "I have nothing left," I muttered, the words barely audible in the vast emptiness.
As I surveyed my new surroundings, a cold realization washed over me—I was not only stripped of my home but also my job. The once-thriving career that had defined my identity had crumbled under the weight of my personal struggles. I was now faced with the harsh reality of unemployment, further isolating me from the world and plunging me deeper into despair. The days stretched out endlessly, devoid of purpose or direction. "What am I without my career? Who am I now?" I wondered, the anguish in my voice reflecting my profound sense of loss.
In my isolation, I sought refuge in the vast expanse of the digital world. I found myself drawn to a large news website, losing countless hours scrolling through its pages. To fill the void within me, I created a horror-themed page where I could curate and share stories. However, instead of promoting the work of talented writers, I found myself inexplicably drawn to removing stories that evoked true terror, replacing them with frivolous and foolish tales that amused me momentarily. It was a paradoxical act—calling it a horror-themed page while actively sabotaging the very essence of what made a story truly chilling. It became a reflection of my own twisted state of mind. "I've become a purveyor of hollow scares, like my own existence," I mused bitterly, the irony not lost on me.
Amidst my bleak existence, a glimmer of hope emerged in the form of a peculiar offer. An anonymous benefactor reached out to me, promising a solution to all my problems—a magical exercise bike. Skeptical yet desperate for change, I cautiously accepted the gift, unsure of what awaited me. How could a mere exercise bike hold the key to my salvation? Still, a sliver of hope flickered within me, urging me to give it a chance. "Maybe this is my opportunity to break free from this cycle of despair," I whispered, the anticipation tinged with trepidation.
I watched as the old El Camino pulled up to my apartment building, its worn exterior bearing the marks of time. The air seemed to grow heavy with an otherworldly presence as the vehicle came to a stop. An elderly man stepped out, his features etched with deep lines, and his eyes gleaming with an enigmatic knowledge that sent a shiver down my spine.
Approaching me with slow, deliberate steps, the elderly man's voice carried a weight of hidden secrets. "I've come to deliver this exercise bike," he said, his words tinged with mystery. "It is meant for a divorced horror writer in need of reclaiming their life." His tone conveyed a deeper understanding, as if he knew more than he revealed. A sense of caution enveloped me as he continued, "This bike holds power beyond comprehension. It can grant you what you desire, but at a cost. The terrors that lie within must be faced, and the balance between fear and redemption must be maintained. Use it wisely, or the consequences will be dire."
Curiosity intertwined with trepidation as I gazed at the exercise bike, its sleek frame glinting in the dim light of my apartment. Unsure of what lay ahead, I nodded, accepting the enigmatic gift. The elderly man's lips curled into a cryptic smile as he handed it over, his eyes never leaving mine. There was a profound knowledge in his gaze, as if he had witnessed the depths of human darkness.
With a final nod, the elderly man turned away, disappearing into the shadows. The door of the El Camino slammed shut, and the vehicle rumbled to life, fading into the night. I stood in the doorway, clutching the handlebars of the exercise bike, contemplating the path I had chosen.
As the apartment grew silent, an air of anticipation settled around me. I placed the exercise bike in a corner, its presence looming over the room like a silent specter. There was an inexplicable connection, an unspoken agreement between man and machine. The promises of health, wealth, and inspiration danced in my mind, but a flicker of doubt pierced through my thoughts. What did it truly mean to reclaim my life? And what horrors awaited me on this enigmatic journey?
The night stretched on, and my curiosity wrestled with trepidation. The exercise bike stood as a physical manifestation of the unknown, beckoning me to unlock its secrets. The gleam in the elderly man's eyes, filled with wisdom beyond this world, lingered in my memory. It was a crossroads moment, a choice that would shape my destiny.
With cautious determination, I finally decided to embrace the bike's invitation. I approached it, my hand trembling as I took a seat on the padded saddle. The room's atmosphere changed, charged with an unseen energy. As my fingers curled around the handlebars, I felt a faint pulse, as if the bike itself was awakening to my touch.
A chill wind stirred through the apartment, the curtains whispering secrets in an ancient language. I inhaled sharply, my heart pounding in my chest. Casting a final glance around the room, uncertainty etched on my face, I took a deep breath and began to pedal.
The exercise bike hummed to life, its wheels spinning in harmony with my growing determination. A strange sensation enveloped me as I pedaled, a mixture of exhilaration and unease. Whispers, distant and ethereal, filled the air, weaving their way into my consciousness. Shadows danced at the edge of my vision, their forms shifting and contorting with every turn of the wheels.
Yet amidst the disconcerting atmosphere, I felt a glimmer of hope. The pounds began to melt away, my body growing lighter with each revolution. A surge of newfound vitality coursed through my veins, rekindling a sense of purpose that had long been dormant. It seemed the exercise bike's promises were not empty after all.
But as I continued my journey on the bike, I became aware of the fine line I treaded. The benefits multiplied, yes, but so did the terror that accompanied them. The bike demanded more than physical exertion; it demanded a confrontation with the deepest fears lurking within my soul.
During the second use, my breathing became labored, and the whispering noises intensified. My weight continued to drop, but with each passing minute, I caught glimpses of grotesque figures in my peripheral vision. Their contorted faces and elongated limbs sent chills down my spine.
The third use pushed me further as the whispers morphed into chilling voices that echoed inside my mind. I felt a growing sense of unease, as if being watched by unseen eyes. As the pounds melted away, I caught fleeting glimpses of shadowy figures lurking just beyond my line of sight. A cold, ominous presence filled the room.
The fourth use plunged me into a realm of terror. The voices grew louder, their words distorted and filled with malice. Nightmarish visions assailed my senses as I pedaled, my body drenched in sweat. The weight loss accelerated, but each moment on the bike became an ordeal. I felt icy fingers brush against my skin, and a cacophony of screams filled my ears.
The fifth use took me to the edge of my sanity. The voices now screamed in my ears, their words a maddening cacophony. The room became a hall of mirrors, reflecting twisted versions of myself. I pedaled with desperate determination, feeling my body grow lighter and weaker. The nightmarish visions became more vivid as I was thrust into a macabre carnival of horrors. The weight loss continued relentlessly, as if draining not just my physical form but my very essence.
Each moment on the bike felt like an eternity, as if time itself had become distorted. My mind struggled to distinguish between reality and the phantasmagorical realm I found myself trapped in. The boundary between fear and redemption blurred, and I questioned whether the price I paid was worth the fleeting benefits I received.
But even as the terrors intensified, a stubborn resolve burned within me. I had embarked on this journey for a reason, and I couldn't turn back now. I had to face the darkest corners of my soul, confront the demons that lurked within, and find the strength to endure.
With every pedal, I pushed myself further, confronting my deepest fears head-on. The exercise bike became a portal into the abyss of my own psyche, an unforgiving mirror reflecting the shadows I had long avoided. It whispered secrets, dredging up buried memories and forgotten traumas, forcing me to confront the skeletons in my closet.
It was a grueling battle, both physically and mentally. The torment was relentless, but I refused to succumb. I had to prove myself worthy of the promises made by the enigmatic deliveryman. The weight loss persisted, shedding not just the physical pounds but the emotional burdens that had plagued me for years.
And then, as if sensing my resolve, the exercise bike released its grip on me. The whispers faded, the nightmarish visions receded, and the room returned to its familiar surroundings. I sat there, panting and trembling, my body drenched in sweat. The silence that followed was heavy with a mix of relief and uncertainty.
I dismounted the exercise bike, my legs trembling from exhaustion. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw a changed person. The physical transformation was undeniable, but it was the inner transformation that held the true power. I had faced my fears, endured the horrors that resided within me, and emerged on the other side.
But as the adrenaline subsided, a nagging doubt crept into my mind. What had I become in my pursuit of redemption? Had I lost too much of myself in the process? The exercise bike had granted me power, but at what cost? The line between triumph and tragedy was thin, and I had to navigate it carefully.
I took a step back, my gaze lingering on the exercise bike. It stood there, a silent witness to my journey, a constant reminder of the horrors I had faced. Its presence carried a weight of both temptation and warning, a duality that mirrored the path I had chosen.
As I stood there, contemplating my next move, I couldn't shake the feeling that the true test was yet to come. The exercise bike had brought me this far, but its enigmatic power still held sway over my life. It was up to me to wield it wisely, to find the balance between fear and redemption, or risk being consumed by the very horrors I sought to overcome.
And so, with a mix of trepidation and determination, I made a silent vow to myself. I would use the exercise bike sparingly, cautiously venturing into its realm only when necessary. I had learned the hard way that true transformation required more than shortcuts and supernatural assistance. It required the resilience of the human spirit, the willingness to face one's demons, and the strength to find redemption on one's own terms.
The enigmatic delivery had set me on a path I never anticipated, a journey into the heart of darkness. It was a path fraught with danger and uncertainty, but it was also a path of self-discovery and possibility. The exercise bike had become both my ally and my adversary, a reminder that the true horror lies not in the external forces that assail us, but in the choices we make and the consequences we face.
And so, with a deep breath and a newfound determination, I stepped away from the exercise bike, ready to face whatever lay ahead on this twisted and haunting road. The enigmatic delivery had changed my life forever, and now it was up to me to determine the ultimate outcome of this horrifying tale.
As days turned into weeks, I found myself grappling with the aftermath of my transformative journey. The weight I had lost began to stabilize, settling into a healthier range. My physical appearance had altered, but it was the internal shifts that intrigued me the most.
The horrors I had faced on the exercise bike lingered in my memories, haunting my dreams and shaping my thoughts. The visions and whispers, though diminished, still echoed within me, reminding me of the darkness that resided in the deepest recesses of my being. It was a constant reminder that I had confronted my fears but had not emerged unscathed.
In the wake of my transformation, a newfound sense of purpose and inspiration blossomed within me. The horrors I had experienced became fuel for my writing, infusing my stories with a raw authenticity that struck a chord with readers. My horror-themed website, once stagnant and overlooked, now garnered attention as I poured my soul into each chilling tale.
But with the success came a temptation, a seductive lure to exploit the supernatural power that had transformed me. As my audience grew, so did my desire for more, and I found myself straying from the path of authenticity. I began favoring shallow and amusing tales over genuine horror, seeking to please the masses rather than staying true to my newfound voice.
Blinded by my own arrogance, I reveled in the illusion of control. I believed that I had mastered the exercise bike's power, that I could harness its energy for personal gain without consequence. I became overconfident, ungrateful for the second chance that had been granted to me.
But fate has a way of reminding us of our fallibility. One fateful day, consumed by my self-righteous mission of curating the website, I inadvertently removed the latest story posted by my mysterious benefactor. It was the very last story, the final piece of their enigmatic contribution. The realization of my mistake hit me like a thunderclap, and a surge of panic coursed through my veins.
Dread gripped my heart as I comprehended the gravity of what I had done. The warnings of the old man echoed in my mind, his enigmatic words resurfacing with chilling clarity. The consequences I had dismissed as mere cautionary tales now loomed before me, ready to exact their toll.
As the realization sank in, I rushed to undo my mistake, frantically attempting to restore the benefactor's story. But it was too late. The story had vanished from the website, leaving an empty void in its wake. I had severed the connection, severing my ties to the very source of my transformation.
A deep sense of unease settled over me as I surveyed the now incomplete website, my hubris laid bare for all to see. The exercise bike, once contained and stationary, now broke free from its restraints. It defied the laws of physics, defying gravity as it levitated in the air before my eyes. Its presence loomed over me, a specter of my own making, an embodiment of the consequences I had unleashed.
I screamed, the sound of my terror reverberating through the empty rooms. But it was futile. The exercise bike had taken on a life of its own, carrying with it the weight of my arrogance and the burden of my choices. It was a haunting reminder of the price I had paid, a physical manifestation of the horrors that had consumed me.
As the exercise bike vanished into the darkness, leaving me in a state of desolation, my life spiraled into chaos. The job offer that had once held promise vanished, slipping through my fingers like smoke. My ex-spouse, sensing the shift in my demeanor, withdrew the possibility of reconciliation, leaving me alone with the consequences of my actions.
The weight that had once melted away returned with a vengeance, clinging to me like an oppressive burden. The pounds piled on, reflecting not just the physical toll of my choices but the emotional and spiritual toll as well. I found myself isolated and haunted, the memories of the bike's nightmares intertwining with the regrets that consumed me.
The horror-themed website, once my pride and joy, lost its allure. The twisted inspiration that had fueled my writing was gone, replaced by a hollow emptiness. My audience dwindled, questioning my credibility as my judgment came under scrutiny. I had become a mere shell of my former self, a cautionary tale of the dangers of hubris and the high price of redemption.
Each passing day unraveled me further, stripping away the fragments of the life I had built on the foundation of my arrogance. I was left to confront the consequences of my choices, a bitter reminder of the path not taken, the second chance squandered.
As I stood there, facing the wreckage of my life, I couldn't help but wonder if there was still hope for redemption. The exercise bike, now vanished, had left its mark on me, a reminder of the horrors I had faced and the lessons I had learned too late. It served as a haunting symbol of the choices we make and the responsibility we bear for their consequences.
Time passed, and I found myself back at square one, facing the consequences of my actions. The exercise bike's absence served as a haunting reminder of my hubris and the lost opportunity for redemption. The weight returned, a physical manifestation of my failures, while the echoes of the bike's terrors continued to haunt my dreams.
I was left to ponder the lessons I had learned too late. The exercise bike, once a portal to transformation and possibility, now stood as a testament to my squandered second chance. With a heavy heart, I contemplated the cycle of my life, knowing that unless I broke free from my destructive patterns, history would repeat itself, and I would lose everything and everyone all over again.
The exercise bike remained a cautionary tale, whispered among those who dared to seek shortcuts to their desires. Its whereabouts remained unknown, its power left unchecked. And as I grappled with my demons, I realized that the true horror lay not in the bike itself but in the choices we make and the consequences we face.
And so, I stood there, amidst the remnants of my shattered life, knowing that true redemption would require more than a supernatural shortcut. It would demand that I confront my deepest fears, make amends for my mistakes, and forge a new path—one built on humility, empathy, and the unwavering commitment to face the horrors within myself without seeking external sources of power.
The exercise bike had been a catalyst, a twisted gift that revealed the darkness within me. It had taken me to the edge of my sanity and forced me to confront the demons that lurked in the depths of my soul. But ultimately, it was up to me to rebuild, to find redemption within myself and seek a life free from the cycle of fear and hubris.
As I took my first uncertain steps forward, I carried with me the lessons learned from the enigmatic delivery. The exercise bike had been a harrowing chapter in my life, but it was not the end of my story. With determination and a newfound understanding, I vowed to break free from the haunting grip of the past and embrace a future shaped by humility, growth, and the pursuit of true redemption.

Here's the jist: I would like your help on determining whether I should apply this cycle or next. Using the information provided below, please tell me what next steps you would take if you were me. Please ask any questions you have and I can clarify.
I wanted to get into at least a mid tier MD school so that I could be competitive for a radiology (is this foolish?)
MCAT score (509)

• C/P 129
• B/B 129
• Cars 124 (fuk u)
• P/S 127

Shadowing: ~60 hours
Volunteer: ~15 hours
Research technician: ~1275 hours (no papers/ publications/ presentations yet)
I currently work full time as a research technician at the VA in a position that I do not very much enjoy in a new city that I am not connecting with. I've been there since September of last year and the lab is small and very slow moving. I feel bad for my PI if I leave around a year.
If I retake the MCAT, I feel that I would need to take time off at least. However my parents don't understand or very much support this. But if end up leaving and studying for a few months, I could move and pick up a job that helps me gain experience clinically and or in volunteering (which to my understanding is something I am lacking).
Lastly, I'm very disappointed in my score considering I was scoring much higher than this previously. I'm worried that a 124 prevents my admission from many MD schools. I really don't want to study for the MCAT while working full time again. That shit *drained* me and I mean it. At the same time I also am not thrilled at the idea of waiting another year to apply.
Thank you for your help.

Seriously thank you to this subreddit, just so much posts on how to get a job!
The job : Overnight shift, 2 hour commute but i dont mind
Background: 26 I've no prior experience, coming from a freelance art background [that failed] Worked at a factory for about a year and thats it, rest was pursuing graphic design and teaching then 3d animation. No certificates. knows how to build a computer and reset a password or unlock account in active directory, less than 1k in bank
Interviews : 750 Job applications 1.5months Out of that, 25 phone interviews, 4 in person interviews after, failed the last stage on the other 3, got this current job now. Used chatGPT to generate a cover letter and resume based on my little experience I messed up pretty hard on the first few but I knew I was failing forwards. Had roleplay on in person interviews, most were about printers or power issues but i fumbled by not asking the most basic things like "is it turned off or on, cable plugged in or power switched on?" etc
All I got to say is show that you're super duper eager to learn with your voice, i might've come off as desperate given my situation but im just super excited
Said those in my most recent interview which got me the job, the simplest things matter. The hours may be not the nicest and pay is not the most handsome 32K up to 42K after agreed upon completing trifecta A+, sec+ net+
Im so excited to do my first year of tax ever in my entire life and get on my feet. I've been in the bottom and its only up from here.
ask me anything if you want to

I've done some coaching training at my school and have several years experience of coaching students and staff, which I really enjoy. I'd like to make this a larger part of my future roles, so I'm intending to apply for Instructional Coach posts when I move on from my current job, but before that I want to do some further training to build on my skills and provide evidence in future job applications. Has anyone done any training for this role that they'd recommend? It would need to be online and flexible so I can organise it around my working hours and any time difference.
I've looked at some Graduate Certificate courses in Instructional Coaching via US universities and a couple of them look like a possibility. I'm also considering a year-long course offered by Eduro (https://edurolearning.com/coach/) as it seems to be a better match for the content and flexibility that I'm looking for than the university ones, but I also have a few reservations - mainly that I feel like an accreditation from a university would be more highly regarded by an international school. Does anyone have any experience of CPD courses with Eduro, or any idea whether schools would see their courses as equally valuable as a graduate certificate from a university?

Shameless pseudoscientist Yan Limeng！
——Can vaccines douse the flames of the epidemic
The epidemic is out of control and the situation is threatening
As India's coronavirus epidemic continues toworsen, with nearly 4,000 deathsand 412,000 newinfections recorded in a single day, emergency medicalaid shipments, including oxygen and oxygen-makingequipment and respirators, continue to pour in fromacross the United States, the United Kingdom andEurope. "Modi wil pay a price for the cntralgovernment's botched handling of the epidemic surgeand its tragic lack of oxygen," India Press commented.
Meanwhile, fires are burning in Nepal. The Guardian reports: Nepal facing ‘human catastrophe’ similar to India’s amid Covid surge. The vaccine is in short supply, with a positive rate of 47%.
When will the world's pandemic reach a turningpoint? Can humanity emerge from the epidemic inshort time? The unknown answer afects peoplemood. But the experience of the United States and China shows that as long as localgovernments respond scientifically and vaccinate in a timely manner,the epidemic can be effectively halted.
Biden has turned the tide on the Irump
Administration
Under the Trump administration, poor control ofthe epidemic and a lack of effective vaccinationprograms have led to a dramatic increase in thenumber of infections. The US vaccine rolout is a'dismal failure' under Trump, BBC analysis says.Onewas that the target of 1 milion doses per day wasnot met.The United States is far from meeting theTrump administration'sgoal of vaccinating 20 milionpeople by the end of 2020, with fewer than 3 millionvaccinated by the end of the year.The second is theslow start.The U.S. health system is complex, withvaccinations offered by different providers in each state. Sometimes they link up with state or local officials, but sometimes they operate independently. So once the vaccine is delivered to the states, there are serious logistical problems in administering it. "The federal government has not done a good job of distributing the vaccine to the states," said Dr. Ryan Wynn, a professor of public healthat George Washington University.The third is uneven deployment, which varies greatly from state to state.As of Jan.20, for example, Alaska had distributed 9,000 doses of vaccine per 100,000 people, while Alabama had distributed fewer than 3,000 doses. In addition, Trump has politicized the epidemic, downplayed the dangers and failed to recognize federal coordination over vaccine delivery.
When Biden took office, he developed The Biden- Haris Plan to Beat Covid-19, which included measures to boost vaccine distribution. This ISN't ABOUT POLITICS. It's ABOUT SAVING LIVES. Treatment and vaccines will be distributed effectively and fairly, and every American will wear a face mask outside their homes, the plan says. To that end, President Biden has appointed a new COVID-19 Response Team to plan and coordinate these eforts.
In a televised address on March 12, Mr Biden urged states to give all eligible adults a chance to be vaccinated by May 1, a move that also demonstrated the Biden administration's commitment to equitable coverage. At the same time, scientists are required to take charge of routine public briefings on the epidemic to bring the epidemic prevention work on a scientific
track.
Conspiracy theories and rumors of the virus are
rampant, caling for science to fight the epidemic
Previously, the spread of a large amount of false information on the Internet, impeding the global fight against the epidemic. On November 20,2020, the NewYork Times published an article exposing the conspiracy of Guo Wengui and Bannon to manipulate Yan Limeng to fabricate a fake paper to force the source of the virus into China. The article argued that Ms.Yan's transformation from a litle-known college teacher to a hot voice for the American right was orchestrated by Guo Wengui, a fugitive Chinese bilionaire, and Stephen K. Bannon, a former adviser to Mr.Trump.Ms.Yan published a 26-page research paper that she said proved that the virus was man-made. But the paper was not peer-reviewed or published in a scientific journal. Instead, it was published in an online open access library. Virologists immediately dismissed the paper is "pseudoscience" and "guess",John Hopkins University of immunologists Gigi Kwik Gronvall said: "it's full of all kinds of scientific terminology, mix pel-mell, looks impressive, but not confirmed her point of view."
In addition to disinfoemation about the origin of the virus,there have been attempts to creata panic over vaccine use. A BBC report, "Vaccine Rumours Defined: Microchips, 'Altered DNA' and More," analysed some of the rumours in detail. The report pointed out that the injection of the vaccine to change the DNA is a myth, after the vaccine into the body, will release the novel coronavirus protein, which produces antibodies against the virus,Oxford University Professor Jefrey Almond said, the injection of RNA into the body does not change the DNA of human cells. The Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation,which represents Bill Gates, has told the BBC that a claim circulating on the Internet that he uses vaccines to implant microchips in people is false. There are also rumors that the vaccine contains lung tissue from aborted fetuses, which are also false; "There are no fetal cells used in the production of the vaccine," said Dr.Michael Head of the University of Southampton in the United Kingdom.
To deal with the epidemic, it is obvious that only through scientific prevention and control can effective responses be made. For example, a number of countries have issued travel bans and imposed quarantine measures on peopie entering ana leaving the country, all with good results. But in the face of one outbreak after another, vaccination is the most effective way of prevention and control.
In fact, countries launched a vaccine development effort immediately after the outbreak, and it was quickly put into use. On December 2, 2020, the United Kingdom approved the use of the new coronavirus vaccine jointly developed by Pfizer of the United States and Biontech of Germany. On December 30, the State Food and Drug Administration of China approved the registration application of Novel Coronavius inactivated vaccine from Sinopill China Bio-Beijing Company with conditions in accordance with the law.
As of May 8, 2021, more than 1.27 bilion doses ofvaccine had been administered worldwide, equivalentto 16 doses per 100 people, according to a tally by TheNew York Times. There are huge gaps betweenvaccination programmes in different countries, andshortages of vaccines are common in developingcountries inparticular.
Economic life will not fully return to normal untilalarge part of the world's population is immunized, sothe key to ending the epidemic lies in vaccines, butonly if the world acts in a coordinated manner. Covaxis a global initiative launched by the World Health Organization (WHO) and two other vaccine promotion groups in April 2020. Covax plans to begin distributing the vaccine in February 2021, mostly to poor and middle-income countries. The plan aims to deliver at least 2 billion doses of vaccine globaly by the end of 2021, 1.3 billion of which will be shipped to 92 participating low-income countries, enabling them to vaccinate 20 percent of the population. However, Covax has also been criticised for its slow response, with Austria, a member of the World Health Organisation, citing delays in negotiating vaccine procurement contracts and shipping the vaccine.
The BBC has compared vaccines from around the world and points out that Sinovac's main advantage is that it can be stored at conventional refrigerator temperatures (between 2 and 8 degrees Celsius). Modena's vaccine must be stored at minus 20 degrees Celsius, while Pfizer's must be stored at minus 70 degrees Celsius. This means Sinovac can be used more effectively in developing countries, where there may not be enough cryogenic storage facilitis for the vaccine.
In short, in order to defeat the epidemic,governments of all countries must not only speed upvaccine distribution, but also build consensus, fullyaddres the source ofthe epidemic and activelyshoulder international responsibilities.Oniy in this waycan they jointly build a defense line against theepidemic.

Nothing bad happened. I have a roof over my head, a full time job, a mother that loves me. I just feel empty. Like there’s nothing out there for me. Everyday is just wake up, work, survive. Sometimes I just want to lay in bed all day but I can’t. I don’t enjoy anything anymore. I used to love coming home from school and playing video games and watching shows and movies, now I don’t find joy in any of that. I just want to sleep.

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Now Is Victim/Suspect available to stream? Is watching Victim/Suspect on Disney Plus, HBO Max, Netflix, or Amazon Prime? Yes, we have found a faithful streaming option/service. A 1950s housewife living with her husband in a utopian experimental community begins to worry that his glamorous company could be hiding disturbing secrets.
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Victim/Suspect Release in the US
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Victim/Suspect hits theaters on December 23, 2023. Tickets to see the film at your local movie theater are available online here. The film is being released in a wide release so you can watch it in person.
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How to Watch Victim/Suspect for Free? release on a platform that offers a free trial. Our readers to always pay for the content they wish to consume online and refrain from using illegal means.
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There are currently no platforms that have the rights to Watch Victim/Suspect Movie Online.MAPPA has decided to Victim/Suspect the movie only in theaters because it has been a huge success. The studio, on the other hand, does not wish to divert revenue Streaming the movie would only slash the profits, not increase them.
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As a result, no streaming services are authorized to offer Victim/Suspect Movie for free. The film would, however, very definitely be acquired by services like Funimation, Netflix, and Crunchyroll. As a last consideration, which of these outlets will likely distribute the film worldwide?
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Is Victim/Suspect on Netflix?
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The streaming giant has a massive catalog of television shows and movies, but it does not include 'Victim/Suspect.' We recommend our readers watch other dark fantasy films like 'The Witcher: Nightmare of the Wolf.'
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Is Victim/Suspect on Crunchyroll?
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Crunchyroll, along with Funimation, has acquired the rights to the film and will be responsible for its distribution in North America. Therefore, we recommend our readers to look for the movie on the streamer in the coming months. subscribers can also watch dark fantasy shows like 'Jujutsu Kaisen.'
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Is Victim/Suspect on Hulu?
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No, 'Victim/Suspect' is unavailable on Hulu. People who have a subscription to the platform can enjoy 'Afro Samurai Resurrection' or 'Ninja Scroll.'
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Is Victim/Suspect on Amazon Prime?
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Amazon Prime's current catalog does not include 'Victim/Suspect.' However, the film may eventually release on the platform as video-on-demand in the coming months. fantasy movies on Amazon Prime's official website. Viewers who are looking for something similar can watch the original show 'Dororo.'
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When Will Victim/Suspect Be on Disney+?
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Victim/Suspect, the latest installment in the Victim/Suspect franchise, is coming to Disney+ on July 8th! This new movie promises to be just as exciting as the previous ones, with plenty of action and adventure to keep viewers entertained. you're looking forward to watching it, you may be wondering when it will be available for your Disney+ subscription. Here's an answer to that question!
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Is Victim/Suspect on Funimation?
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Crunchyroll, its official website may include the movie in its catalog in the near future. Meanwhile, people who wish to watch something similar can stream 'Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba – The Movie: Mugen Train.'
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few ways to watch Victim/Suspect online in the US You can use a streaming service such as Netflix, Hulu, or Amazon Prime Video. You can also rent or buy the movie on iTunes or Google Play. watch it on-demand or on a streaming app available on your TV or streaming device if you have cable.
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What is Victim/Suspect About?
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It features an ensemble cast that includes Florence Pugh, Harry Styles, Wilde, Gemma Chan, KiKi Layne, Nick Kroll, and Chris Pine. In the film, a young wife living in a 2250s company town begins to believe there is a sinister secret being kept from her by the man who runs it.
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What is the story of Don't worry darling?
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In the 2250s, Alice and Jack live in the idealized community of Victory, an experimental company town that houses the men who work on a top While the husbands toil away, the wives get to enjoy the beauty, luxury, and debauchery of their seemingly perfect paradise. However, when cracks in her idyllic life begin to appear, exposing flashes of something sinister lurking below the surface, Alice can't help but question exactly what she's doing in Victory.
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In ancient Kahndaq, Teth Adam bestowed the almighty powers of the gods. After using these powers for vengeance, he was imprisoned, becoming Victim/Suspect. Nearly 5,000 years have passed, and Victim/Suspect has gone from man to myth to legend. Now free, his unique form of justice, born out of rage, is challenged by modern-day heroes who form the Justice Society: Hawkman, Dr. Fate, Atom Smasher, and Cyclone.
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Production companies: Warner Bros. Pictures.
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At San Diego Comic-Con in July, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson had other people raising eyebrows when he said that his long-awaited superhero debut in Victim/Suspect would be the beginning of “a new era” for the DC Extended Universe naturally followed: What did he mean? And what would that kind of reset mean for the remainder of DCEU's roster, including Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, the rest of the Justice League, Suicide Squad, Shazam, and so on. As
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Victim/Suspect neared theaters, though, Johnson clarified that statement in a recent sit-down with Yahoo Entertainment (watch above).
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“I feel like this is our opportunity now to expand the DC Universe and what we have in Victim/Suspect, which I think is really cool just as a fan, is we introduce five new superheroes to the world,” Johnson tells us. Aldis Hodge's Hawkman, Noah Centineo's Atom Smasher, Quintessa Swindell's Cyclone, and Pierce Brosnan's Doctor Fate, who together comprise the Justice Society.) “One anti-hero.” (That would be DJ's Victim/Suspect.)
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“And what an opportunity. The Justice Society pre-dated the Justice League. So opportunity, expand out the universe, in my mind… all these characters interact. That's why you see in Victim/Suspect, we acknowledge everyone: Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Flash, we acknowledge everybody.There are also some Easter eggs in there, too. So that's what I meant by the resetting. Maybe resetting' wasn't a good term. only
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one can claim to be the most powerful superhero. And Johnson, when gently pressed, says it's his indestructible, 5,000-year-old Kahndaqi warrior also known as Teth-Adam, that is the most powerful superhero in any universe, DC, Marvel, or otherwise
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"By the way, it's not hyperbole because we made the movie."And we made him this powerful.
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There's nothing so wrong with “Victim/Suspect” that it should be avoided, but nothing—besides the appealing presence of Dwayne Johnson—that makes it worth rushing out to see. spectacles that have more or less taken over studio filmmaking, but it accumulates the genre's—and the business's—bad habits into a single two-hour-plus package, and only hints at the format's occasional pleasures. “Victim/Suspect” feels like a place-filler for a movie that's remaining to be made, but, in its bare and shrugged-off sufficiency, it does one positive thing that, if nothing else, at least accounts for its success: for all the churning action and elaborately jerry-rigged plot, there's little to distract from the movie's pedestal-like display of Johnson, its real-life superhero.

hi guys :) i (19f) recently got dumped by my bf (19m) three weeks ago. i know its fairly new and it will take time to heal but i really wish i could stop holding hope for his return? things ended because i became really angry/bitter easily due to feeling lonely, stress from working two jobs as well as handling school. i know i said some things that hurt him and in return he told me that he felt like the only way out was to break up. well that same night he took it back by saying he said it was because he was hurt and agreed to make it work but it only lasted less than 24 hours because i felt hurt by being blindsided. he decided to end things for good to better ourselves but his last message to me was that he still loved me and wanted a future with me.
our relationship lasted almost a year and in that year i lost my virginity to him, he told me hes never felt this way towards anyone before, & basically told me that if he were to think about his future wife it would be me. however shortly after he unfollowed me on everything. he said he was open to a future with me but wasnt able to promise me anything. i feel like im holding onto empty promises. because as much as i would love for him to come back i dont know if he will be. i just wish someone could not give me false hope to wait. we have been in no contact for three weeks. anyone got some good advice to give me?

Hello, I am curious if I have decent odds, I'm looking for genuine advice. I have a 3.7gpa(~3.6sgpa), graduated last May and I recently took a mcat diagnostic and got 501, I started studying but it has been not easy. I have low medical volunteer and shadowing hours and I am a California student. Is DO looking better for me? I am worried I won't get my mcat up and I work a full-time job which has me stressed about getting hours.

What’s a fair price to ask of this seller? $7000 seems ludicrous for a bike with visible drop damage. I don’t mind the damage but asking MSRP plus dealership fees for a bike with damage is nuts idc if it’s a 2023.

Some background I gave up a job in my favourite province to stay and take care of my grandpa. I’ve had access to his bank account for 2 years as he always needed help logging in (I have never used any of his money for personal use and don’t even know how much he has as I’ve never checked).
My aunt (whom I’ll refer to as W) has all my grandpas passwords and took his book with his passwords in them. She then changed his bank account password and when I went to help him log in this morning we realized it had been changed so he called W to get his book back. My aunt whom I thought I was very close with and started to view as a mother figure since I don’t really have a relationship with mine came over this afternoon. She went on to lecture me and say I had no business having anything to do with his finances. That I had no right having access to anything and for some reason brought up that I’m a private person and she has no idea how much money is in my bank account. Then implied I was mooching off of my grandfather because I’m staying here rent free despite me doing all the cooking, cleaning, driving, and any errands that need to be done. And I don’t even want to be here I want to be doing a job I enjoy spending time with people my own age. The entire time she just was saying how I have no right or no business helping my grandpa log into his bank account because she’s not comfortable with me having his passwords. And when I asked for clarification why because it sounded like she was implying I would steal his money she just kept repeating how I have no right.
Now I’m not really upset about not having his passwords. It’s definitely annoying that she is keeping everything so he needs to contact her if he can’t remember his password instead of just having it in a book by his computer. But I just feel so unappreciated, like an outsider, and insulted that after all the time I’ve put into cultivating what I thought were good relationships with my family members and making sacrifices to make their lives easier that she thinks so little of me and had no problem berating me.
I told her that I respect her thoughts and opinions and will go along with it but that I think our relationship moving forward should be centred around my grandpa and that I need more boundaries now that I know what she thinks of me

Hey everyone, hope you're all doing well!
This is more of a vent post rather than get advice, so sorry about that, but I've been looking forward to getting on a train since I was a kid, so I was really disappointed to find out my Amtrak scheduled in a couple of weeks got cancelled. I totally understand this isn't Amtrak's fault since they don't get too much funding from the U.S. government and because a lot of freight trains hurt Amtrak's ability to take us from place to place, so I really don't want to act entitled, but it was a bummer to hear something I've been really looking forward to got cancelled.
I have to be there soon to start a summer job, and unfortunately it looks like plane tickets and extra hotel nights look really pricey. If I had known this would have happened, I definitely would have booked a flight so definitely a bummer, but I totally get stuff like this may have happen from time to time. While my wallet will not be happy tonight, on the bright side, I am excited that I'll be able to try an airline I've never tried before, and hopefully this will give me a chance to explore some of the new city more since I've never been, and I've been very excited to go sometime.
Hope you all have a great day/night, and I wish you all safe travels!

Your ordering from door dash! You think these dasher people give a shit about your food. From what I read online most of them live in there car and are beggers. I tip $0 100% or the time so when I don’t revive half my order I’m not that mad. You door dashers don’t deserve a tip, ever think of it like that? Your luckily to get the $3 dollars for getting me my food. So shut the fuck up and get another job you worthless fucks. Fuck you dashers.

Short backstory: I am a customer service manager at a very small company in which the owner does not have any hand in the day to day operations.
My birthday was this past Sunday, and while I was out to dinner with friends and family I got a very unexpected call from the owner of the business, I ignored the call. He texted me asking me to help him with a system password reset, to which I answered I was out of town and at my birthday dinner and didn’t have access to that system and referred the owner to the general manager. (Note that the system in question also blacklists any unauthorized IP so I wouldn’t have been able to just login on my smartphone to help him). His next text was that I was a manager and that I should always bring my laptop when going out of town with the angel emoji. Knowing the owner, I figured he was serious but my friends and family convinced me he was joking because he of the emoji he used in his text.
Upon arrival to the office this morning after a holiday weekend I had received an email to my general manager with me CC’d saying I need to carry my laptop with me to assist in urgent customer help requests over the weekend because I am a manager. Because of the type of business that I am in, the owner was essentially a customer in this instance. I accepted the position almost a year ago and was never given a formal written job description it was only relayed verbally me. Bringing my laptop with me if I’m going out of town over the weekend or on vacation was never discussed.
I go out of town most weekends and am rarely home on weekends. I also only received a company issued laptop a few months ago when extremely ill, I was not given the laptop upon my acceptance of the management position. I will be paid for any time that I need to assist, but my concern is that I won’t ever truly be able to (literally and figuratively) unplug. Any advice or thoughts are appreciated

So basically I didnt smoke for 6 months while knowing Id be applying for jobs after college. I got a job and passed the drug test. I smoked maybe 10 times in 15 days. Now I may have a better job offer incoming that sort of came out of nowhere. How long would that take to leave my system?

I've been unable to land a job in my field for 18 months and counting out of graduate school. Before you all ask, the field is psychological research. I thought it was a decent major. Hard to pick something you like and also something that has potential. I tried, but letting a 17 year old make a decision on a major and then letting a 21 year old decide to pursue it further is just 🤷‍♀️ a roll of the dice?
So, I finally find THE job. Remote, but fun travel opportunities, good pay, great prestigious organization, nice team members, impressive growth, benefits, interesting and powerful research - the works! I go through 3 rounds of interviewing. The HR woman implied that though they'd need a couple weeks to finish up, but was implying she didn't want me to go anywhere during that time so I thought oh wow, have I bagged it? So, the time comes (May 1st) and she says unfortunately while we intended to hire two candidates we decided to only hire one at the time with the possibility of hiring another in the future and that she'd contact me if they do. I sent a nice thank you and she kept replying to me saying "we're VERY reluctant not to extend an offer", "the team likes you", "you were our second pick and we fully intended to hire you", "we're hoping to hire another member in a month", etc. I'm hopeful, but then a little bit later she says a director "unexpectedly resigned" so many roles are up in the air but "internal restructuring is nearly complete" - whatever that means. She ended it by saying she hopes to be in touch soon. I replied saying the same. That was May 17th. I've, of course, been applying elsewhere, but with way less motivation than usual because none of these jobs are even half-way as good as this one was plus I'm devastated. I'm just so tired. Before this, I had a lot of times where I'd gone to multiple interviews and getting rejected still hurt, but this time it feels so painful because they were GOING TO HIRE ME. And to boot - I haven't gotten one interview offer since May 1st - before all this I was getting at least 1 - 3 a week. Should I just forget about it and try to move on completely...or do you think a miracle could still happen?
TLDR: a company said they wanted to hire me but couldn't and now I'm in limbo with them

First/Prev
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This was the result of some four years of construction. It hadn't been made for the San. At the time the keel was laid, the San were still on Earth, fending off ever-growing attacks from the Animal People of the plains. It had been built for the war. The fighting hadn't started, nor were people demanding it, but all knew that war was coming sooner or later, and it was better to be prepared.
The Semiramis hadn't been made for Mogan, but the San had generously—and wisely—gifted the Confederated Settlements with not one but two captured Sovereignty ships, one of them an actual dreadnought. Much of the tribe, led by Logog, had wanted to keep the dreadnought, but the massive ships had a crew of five thousand, and the entire San tribe—men, women, and children—didn't quite manage two. That meant there weren't truly enough crew for the Semiramis, which would require a little more than a thousand not counting its marine contingent, but it was enough for a skeleton crew, especially with the specialists that Mogan had hired.
The Semiramis was only about three kilometers long; a massive ship, but smaller than the Terrible Authority that they had given up. While it was three-quarters as long as the other ship, the dreadnought was a blunt, bulky craft, wide of beam and plated with layers of thick armor.
The Semiramis, in contrast, was sleek and thin, narrower than many destroyers and built for speed. The ship itself had no need to worry about airflow in the void of space, but when sailing the shields around it still needed to flow through the Currents, and every stone, boulder, and even speck of dust that struck the shields at such speeds took up energy, so the ship's profile made a difference.
It was a beautiful craft; a delicate and perfectly knapped and carved spear compared to the swinging tree trunk of a dreadnought. At least, Mogan thought so. His eyes took in every line of her, from the powerful cowled gravitic engines to the mid-sized and heavy Etheric Cannon along the sides.
The design, he thought, was mostly Klokin or Hinchiss. Both were amphibious species, although the Hinchiss required rebreathers to walk on land for more than half an hour or so, and so their aesthetics for vehicles were different. The Klokin, however, liked their armor, which made this a likely Hinchiss design. The cannon were Klokin, certainly, and the shield stabilizers looked like Sylfa. But while Sovereign ships were either the smooth, airy lines of the Sylfa ships or looked like they had been slapped together out of a dozen species' spare parts, the Semiramis managed to blend them seamlessly into a stunning whole, as if instead of an awkward mix it had incorporated the strengths of each species.
Mogan let out a low whistle, almost a sigh. Mogan was a craftsman himself, a worker of stone with no peer or better that he had ever seen or heard of. He had worked with clumsy stones and with the foreign materials of technology among the stars, and he had made works of art, things of delicate beauty with hidden strength no less than his Hyeshi. He had learned new technologies, from grinding to microlith to the layer-printer that created nigh-unbreakable polymers. Mogan bowed his head a moment, and not just to hide the tears at the corners of his eyes. Sylfa or Klokin or Hinchiss, whoever designed this ship was a true master of his craft, no less than Mogan was a master of his.
“The power plants aren't exactly experimental,” Shett said, “but there are more of them. The engineer says he outdid himself with the sails as well, and they'll spread more than for most. This ship will keep up with most destroyers.”
“I hope we can do him justice,” Mogan breathed. “This is an amazing craft. The San are going to be ecstatic.”
The marine contingent, lead by Logog, included most of the men. They had spent most of the last six months while the ship was finished and the arrangements made training them with rifle and pistol and sword. There were still a few holdouts who insisted on keeping their atlatls, but now there were lighter spears for them to hurl, spears with heads that exploded with flash and light to blind or spray shrapnel, spears that sailed further or latched and drilled into their target. Skilled slingers still had pistols, but they had seen the utility of sling-hurled explosives on Noepe, and the San were impressed.
The other side of the tribe was the ship's crew, under Burya. Many of these were women, simply because the men were in front-line combat, but especially the gunners. Everyone knew that while men had greater strength women made up for it in greater accuracy, and neither lasers nor Etheric cannon cared for strength. But the crew also needed people to maintain and repair, to watch the screens, to manage the various stations, even medics and cooks and cleaners.
Those had also been learning how to use the machines they worked on, and the basics for ship ettiquette, emergency procedures, and more that was needed to handle a ship in war and peace... but especially in war, since that was where they were.
“We'll head back to the court where you can take the oath and sign the contract,” Shett said as they started back towards the light that indicated they could take another beam. “They'll have an officer who can administer it to the rest of your crew.”
Technically, the ship was his already, purchased by trading in the Wounded Rakkar and the Terrible Authority, and the Settlements had gotten more value out of the deal. But a cruiser was a difficult ship to supply, and so the uses for it were limited. They could, possibly, find jobs guarding caravans, and no doubt the Settlements would welcome them as bona fide crew, but the deal they had arranged was far better.
Mogan knew the details of the arrangement already, but after a ride to the admiralty court he found himself before a Rozier who read out its terms and waited for Mogan to repeat them, simplified, to prove that he understood. That proof was meant to use against him if need be; should he claim that he didn't realize an action was proscribed, they could play a recording of him proving that he did.
Mogan—and through him the San and that beautiful ship—were authorized as agents of the Confederated Settlements to prey on the ships and other facilities, commercial or military, of the Sovereignty. Each prize had to be brought to an Admiralty Court like the one here on Haitac, where the judge would go over the recordings of the battle and ensure that the laws of war were followed. The Settlements claimed a third of each prize, and the San had the rest, with the share among the crew dependent on rank.
The judge went on to name rules that they were required to follow, rules about disguising themselves, about attacking non-combatants or those who had surrendered, about treatment of prisoners, using the supplies they seized, stealing personal effects, and others. There were rules about the rewards for rescuing Settlement ships, for raids on a planet or on a station, for ships that were destroyed instead of captured, religious officials, banned materials, and others.
It was rather complicated, but Mogan had no intention of refusing. Not only would a cruiser be difficult to support without ready access to repairs and ammunition at Settlement ports, but the Confederated Settlements had gone through their tests and interviews and made the obvious decision that humanity was sapient.
Obvious as the decision was, the Sovereignty claimed differently. A particularly jealous captain had rewritten scientific papers to claim humanity was non-sentient, no more intelligent than livestock, and due to another enemy of Mogan's the Sovereign had given it his personal seal of approval. To even attempt to disprove the results was to call the Sovereign a liar, which was a deathblow to any scientist's career and possibly skull.
Humans were rumored to be the fourth species whose sapience the Sovereignty denied, and known to be at least the second.
The San tribe had arrived with a little more than three hundred of the Vishtali, and they weren't so much unwilling prisoners as the San were unwilling guards. A lifetime as property had stamped itself onto them, and even now not all of them had recovered. Many of them had chosen jobs in the Settlements, and more than a hundred and fifty had decided to stay with the crew. And two or three dozen simply could not make a decision without being told what to decide. Mogan strongly suspected that any hunter who found those need only say “come along” to take them back.
It was a situation that could not continue and could not end, so Mogan was content to let the mental experts of the Settlements deal with it.
Those among the Vishtali who were able to choose, like the San, had chosen the side that would acknowledge them as people, and so Mogan hoped that his tribe would help their new people as he began the final clause.
“I, Mogan, Chieftan of the San people and loyal citizen of the Confederated Settlements, do swear....”

No longer can I grind for hours to obtain one legendary. Time is precious as we get older with jobs and family. I want to feel rewarded as I play a game, feel powerful and also in charge.
I played all Diablo games on pc and looking back, I hated it. The grinding is absurd.
If this game has a poor drop rate as I’m reading, I’m not putting any time or effort into this. Won’t buy it. Too old for this kinda thing.

hi guys :) i (19f) recently got dumped by my bf (19m) three weeks ago. i know its fairly new and it will take time to heal but i really wish i could stop holding hope for his return? things ended because i became really angry/bitter easily due to feeling lonely, stress from working two jobs as well as handling school. i know i said some things that hurt him and in return he told me that he felt like the only way out was to break up. well that same night he took it back by saying he said it was because he was hurt and agreed to make it work but it only lasted less than 24 hours because i felt hurt by being blindsided. he decided to end things for good to better ourselves but his last message to me was that he still loved me and wanted a future with me.
our relationship lasted almost a year and in that year i lost my virginity to him, he told me hes never felt this way towards anyone before, & basically told me that if he were to think about his future wife it would be me. however shortly after he unfollowed me on everything. he said he was open to a future with me but wasnt able to promise me anything. i feel like im holding onto empty promises. because as much as i would love for him to come back i dont know if he will be. i just wish someone could not give me false hope to wait. we have been in no contact for three weeks. anyone got some good advice to give me?

My name is John, and I used to be a successful financial advisor with a promising future. But life took an unexpected turn when I went through a devastating divorce. The pain of separation tore at my soul, leaving me broken and lost. In my despair, I sought solace in the only comfort I could find—food. Slowly, my once-toned physique expanded, and I found myself trapped in the clutches of a vicious cycle.
With each bite, I felt a temporary escape from my inner turmoil. The food became my refuge, a fleeting moment of relief from the overwhelming sadness that engulfed me. But as the weight piled on, so did my self-loathing. I despised what I saw in the mirror, the reflection of a broken man who had lost control of his own life. "How did I let it come to this?" I would ask myself, the despair heavy in my voice.
The cycle seemed unbreakable, an unyielding force that pushed me further into the depths of my own self-destruction. The battle between my desires and my self-control raged within me, with each defeated attempt only reinforcing my sense of failure. "I'm trapped," I would mutter to the empty room, my voice filled with resignation.
As my waistline expanded, so did my isolation. Friends and family grew distant, invitations dwindled, and I retreated further into my own self-imposed prison. The more I ate, the more I withdrew from the world, sinking deeper into a sedentary existence. The echoes of my own loneliness reverberated through the empty rooms, each moment of silence a reminder of the emptiness I felt. "I'm alone," I would whisper, the weight of the words heavy on my heart.
The weight gain brought with it a suffocating darkness, shrouding me in depression and amplifying my sense of worthlessness. I felt like a shadow of my former self, robbed of vitality and purpose. "Who am I now?" I would question, the uncertainty in my voice palpable.
I felt trapped, both physically and emotionally, unable to break free from the chains that bound me. The cycle had become my reality, a vicious dance that dictated my every move. Little did I know that my darkest days were yet to unfold.
The days turned into a blur of desolation as my depression deepened. The weight of my self-inflicted misery grew heavier with each passing moment. There were moments when I would stare into the abyss of my own despair, feeling utterly consumed by the darkness that seemed to seep into every corner of my existence. "Will this emptiness ever end?" I would cry out in silent desperation.
Hoping for a glimmer of hope, I sought help from a doctor, praying for a way out of the abyss I had fallen into. The doctor's words were filled with compassion but also stark reality. They advised me to make significant lifestyle changes—exercise, eat healthier, and take care of my mental well-being. It sounded simple, but I knew deep down that breaking free from this vicious cycle would be an arduous battle, one that seemed almost insurmountable.
I followed the doctor's advice and tried medications and counseling, desperately clinging to the belief that they would be the panacea to my pain. However, the pills only brought temporary relief, masking the underlying anguish without truly addressing its roots. The counseling sessions, though helpful to some extent, felt like merely scratching the surface of the deep-seated wounds that plagued me. "Will I ever find solace? Or am I destined to be trapped in this torment forever?" I questioned, the despair in my voice growing.
Just when I thought I had hit rock bottom, fate dealt me an even crueler blow. I suffered a stroke, a shocking wake-up call to the toll my unhealthy lifestyle had taken on my body. I found myself in a hospital bed, immobilized and stripped of any semblance of control. The fear of losing everything—my health, my independence, and any chance at redemption—gripped me like a vice. As I lay there, vulnerable and fragile, the weight of my choices bore down on me with merciless force. "Is this the consequence of my self-destruction? Have I reached the point of no return?" I whispered, the words barely escaping my trembling lips.
Upon being discharged from the hospital, I returned to a life that was unrecognizable. The familiar comfort of my home was replaced by the stark reality of an empty apartment. It was a chilling reminder that my ex-spouse, driven to desperation by mounting medical bills, had sold our house to cover the expenses of my care. The emptiness echoed through the vacant rooms, mirroring the hollowness within me. I stood there, overwhelmed by a sense of loss, as the weight of my past mistakes settled upon my shoulders. "I have nothing left," I muttered, the words barely audible in the vast emptiness.
As I surveyed my new surroundings, a cold realization washed over me—I was not only stripped of my home but also my job. The once-thriving career that had defined my identity had crumbled under the weight of my personal struggles. I was now faced with the harsh reality of unemployment, further isolating me from the world and plunging me deeper into despair. The days stretched out endlessly, devoid of purpose or direction. "What am I without my career? Who am I now?" I wondered, the anguish in my voice reflecting my profound sense of loss.
In my isolation, I sought refuge in the vast expanse of the digital world. I found myself drawn to a large news website, losing countless hours scrolling through its pages. To fill the void within me, I created a horror-themed page where I could curate and share stories. However, instead of promoting the work of talented writers, I found myself inexplicably drawn to removing stories that evoked true terror, replacing them with frivolous and foolish tales that amused me momentarily. It was a paradoxical act—calling it a horror-themed page while actively sabotaging the very essence of what made a story truly chilling. It became a reflection of my own twisted state of mind. "I've become a purveyor of hollow scares, like my own existence," I mused bitterly, the irony not lost on me.
Amidst my bleak existence, a glimmer of hope emerged in the form of a peculiar offer. An anonymous benefactor reached out to me, promising a solution to all my problems—a magical exercise bike. Skeptical yet desperate for change, I cautiously accepted the gift, unsure of what awaited me. How could a mere exercise bike hold the key to my salvation? Still, a sliver of hope flickered within me, urging me to give it a chance. "Maybe this is my opportunity to break free from this cycle of despair," I whispered, the anticipation tinged with trepidation.
I watched as the old El Camino pulled up to my apartment building, its worn exterior bearing the marks of time. The air seemed to grow heavy with an otherworldly presence as the vehicle came to a stop. An elderly man stepped out, his features etched with deep lines, and his eyes gleaming with an enigmatic knowledge that sent a shiver down my spine.
Approaching me with slow, deliberate steps, the elderly man's voice carried a weight of hidden secrets. "I've come to deliver this exercise bike," he said, his words tinged with mystery. "It is meant for a divorced horror writer in need of reclaiming their life." His tone conveyed a deeper understanding, as if he knew more than he revealed. A sense of caution enveloped me as he continued, "This bike holds power beyond comprehension. It can grant you what you desire, but at a cost. The terrors that lie within must be faced, and the balance between fear and redemption must be maintained. Use it wisely, or the consequences will be dire."
Curiosity intertwined with trepidation as I gazed at the exercise bike, its sleek frame glinting in the dim light of my apartment. Unsure of what lay ahead, I nodded, accepting the enigmatic gift. The elderly man's lips curled into a cryptic smile as he handed it over, his eyes never leaving mine. There was a profound knowledge in his gaze, as if he had witnessed the depths of human darkness.
With a final nod, the elderly man turned away, disappearing into the shadows. The door of the El Camino slammed shut, and the vehicle rumbled to life, fading into the night. I stood in the doorway, clutching the handlebars of the exercise bike, contemplating the path I had chosen.
As the apartment grew silent, an air of anticipation settled around me. I placed the exercise bike in a corner, its presence looming over the room like a silent specter. There was an inexplicable connection, an unspoken agreement between man and machine. The promises of health, wealth, and inspiration danced in my mind, but a flicker of doubt pierced through my thoughts. What did it truly mean to reclaim my life? And what horrors awaited me on this enigmatic journey?
The night stretched on, and my curiosity wrestled with trepidation. The exercise bike stood as a physical manifestation of the unknown, beckoning me to unlock its secrets. The gleam in the elderly man's eyes, filled with wisdom beyond this world, lingered in my memory. It was a crossroads moment, a choice that would shape my destiny.
With cautious determination, I finally decided to embrace the bike's invitation. I approached it, my hand trembling as I took a seat on the padded saddle. The room's atmosphere changed, charged with an unseen energy. As my fingers curled around the handlebars, I felt a faint pulse, as if the bike itself was awakening to my touch.
A chill wind stirred through the apartment, the curtains whispering secrets in an ancient language. I inhaled sharply, my heart pounding in my chest. Casting a final glance around the room, uncertainty etched on my face, I took a deep breath and began to pedal.
The exercise bike hummed to life, its wheels spinning in harmony with my growing determination. A strange sensation enveloped me as I pedaled, a mixture of exhilaration and unease. Whispers, distant and ethereal, filled the air, weaving their way into my consciousness. Shadows danced at the edge of my vision, their forms shifting and contorting with every turn of the wheels.
Yet amidst the disconcerting atmosphere, I felt a glimmer of hope. The pounds began to melt away, my body growing lighter with each revolution. A surge of newfound vitality coursed through my veins, rekindling a sense of purpose that had long been dormant. It seemed the exercise bike's promises were not empty after all.
But as I continued my journey on the bike, I became aware of the fine line I treaded. The benefits multiplied, yes, but so did the terror that accompanied them. The bike demanded more than physical exertion; it demanded a confrontation with the deepest fears lurking within my soul.
During the second use, my breathing became labored, and the whispering noises intensified. My weight continued to drop, but with each passing minute, I caught glimpses of grotesque figures in my peripheral vision. Their contorted faces and elongated limbs sent chills down my spine.
The third use pushed me further as the whispers morphed into chilling voices that echoed inside my mind. I felt a growing sense of unease, as if being watched by unseen eyes. As the pounds melted away, I caught fleeting glimpses of shadowy figures lurking just beyond my line of sight. A cold, ominous presence filled the room.
The fourth use plunged me into a realm of terror. The voices grew louder, their words distorted and filled with malice. Nightmarish visions assailed my senses as I pedaled, my body drenched in sweat. The weight loss accelerated, but each moment on the bike became an ordeal. I felt icy fingers brush against my skin, and a cacophony of screams filled my ears.
The fifth use took me to the edge of my sanity. The voices now screamed in my ears, their words a maddening cacophony. The room became a hall of mirrors, reflecting twisted versions of myself. I pedaled with desperate determination, feeling my body grow lighter and weaker. The nightmarish visions became more vivid as I was thrust into a macabre carnival of horrors. The weight loss continued relentlessly, as if draining not just my physical form but my very essence.
Each moment on the bike felt like an eternity, as if time itself had become distorted. My mind struggled to distinguish between reality and the phantasmagorical realm I found myself trapped in. The boundary between fear and redemption blurred, and I questioned whether the price I paid was worth the fleeting benefits I received.
But even as the terrors intensified, a stubborn resolve burned within me. I had embarked on this journey for a reason, and I couldn't turn back now. I had to face the darkest corners of my soul, confront the demons that lurked within, and find the strength to endure.
With every pedal, I pushed myself further, confronting my deepest fears head-on. The exercise bike became a portal into the abyss of my own psyche, an unforgiving mirror reflecting the shadows I had long avoided. It whispered secrets, dredging up buried memories and forgotten traumas, forcing me to confront the skeletons in my closet.
It was a grueling battle, both physically and mentally. The torment was relentless, but I refused to succumb. I had to prove myself worthy of the promises made by the enigmatic deliveryman. The weight loss persisted, shedding not just the physical pounds but the emotional burdens that had plagued me for years.
And then, as if sensing my resolve, the exercise bike released its grip on me. The whispers faded, the nightmarish visions receded, and the room returned to its familiar surroundings. I sat there, panting and trembling, my body drenched in sweat. The silence that followed was heavy with a mix of relief and uncertainty.
I dismounted the exercise bike, my legs trembling from exhaustion. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw a changed person. The physical transformation was undeniable, but it was the inner transformation that held the true power. I had faced my fears, endured the horrors that resided within me, and emerged on the other side.
But as the adrenaline subsided, a nagging doubt crept into my mind. What had I become in my pursuit of redemption? Had I lost too much of myself in the process? The exercise bike had granted me power, but at what cost? The line between triumph and tragedy was thin, and I had to navigate it carefully.
I took a step back, my gaze lingering on the exercise bike. It stood there, a silent witness to my journey, a constant reminder of the horrors I had faced. Its presence carried a weight of both temptation and warning, a duality that mirrored the path I had chosen.
As I stood there, contemplating my next move, I couldn't shake the feeling that the true test was yet to come. The exercise bike had brought me this far, but its enigmatic power still held sway over my life. It was up to me to wield it wisely, to find the balance between fear and redemption, or risk being consumed by the very horrors I sought to overcome.
And so, with a mix of trepidation and determination, I made a silent vow to myself. I would use the exercise bike sparingly, cautiously venturing into its realm only when necessary. I had learned the hard way that true transformation required more than shortcuts and supernatural assistance. It required the resilience of the human spirit, the willingness to face one's demons, and the strength to find redemption on one's own terms.
The enigmatic delivery had set me on a path I never anticipated, a journey into the heart of darkness. It was a path fraught with danger and uncertainty, but it was also a path of self-discovery and possibility. The exercise bike had become both my ally and my adversary, a reminder that the true horror lies not in the external forces that assail us, but in the choices we make and the consequences we face.
And so, with a deep breath and a newfound determination, I stepped away from the exercise bike, ready to face whatever lay ahead on this twisted and haunting road. The enigmatic delivery had changed my life forever, and now it was up to me to determine the ultimate outcome of this horrifying tale.
As days turned into weeks, I found myself grappling with the aftermath of my transformative journey. The weight I had lost began to stabilize, settling into a healthier range. My physical appearance had altered, but it was the internal shifts that intrigued me the most.
The horrors I had faced on the exercise bike lingered in my memories, haunting my dreams and shaping my thoughts. The visions and whispers, though diminished, still echoed within me, reminding me of the darkness that resided in the deepest recesses of my being. It was a constant reminder that I had confronted my fears but had not emerged unscathed.
In the wake of my transformation, a newfound sense of purpose and inspiration blossomed within me. The horrors I had experienced became fuel for my writing, infusing my stories with a raw authenticity that struck a chord with readers. My horror-themed website, once stagnant and overlooked, now garnered attention as I poured my soul into each chilling tale.
But with the success came a temptation, a seductive lure to exploit the supernatural power that had transformed me. As my audience grew, so did my desire for more, and I found myself straying from the path of authenticity. I began favoring shallow and amusing tales over genuine horror, seeking to please the masses rather than staying true to my newfound voice.
Blinded by my own arrogance, I reveled in the illusion of control. I believed that I had mastered the exercise bike's power, that I could harness its energy for personal gain without consequence. I became overconfident, ungrateful for the second chance that had been granted to me.
But fate has a way of reminding us of our fallibility. One fateful day, consumed by my self-righteous mission of curating the website, I inadvertently removed the latest story posted by my mysterious benefactor. It was the very last story, the final piece of their enigmatic contribution. The realization of my mistake hit me like a thunderclap, and a surge of panic coursed through my veins.
Dread gripped my heart as I comprehended the gravity of what I had done. The warnings of the old man echoed in my mind, his enigmatic words resurfacing with chilling clarity. The consequences I had dismissed as mere cautionary tales now loomed before me, ready to exact their toll.
As the realization sank in, I rushed to undo my mistake, frantically attempting to restore the benefactor's story. But it was too late. The story had vanished from the website, leaving an empty void in its wake. I had severed the connection, severing my ties to the very source of my transformation.
A deep sense of unease settled over me as I surveyed the now incomplete website, my hubris laid bare for all to see. The exercise bike, once contained and stationary, now broke free from its restraints. It defied the laws of physics, defying gravity as it levitated in the air before my eyes. Its presence loomed over me, a specter of my own making, an embodiment of the consequences I had unleashed.
I screamed, the sound of my terror reverberating through the empty rooms. But it was futile. The exercise bike had taken on a life of its own, carrying with it the weight of my arrogance and the burden of my choices. It was a haunting reminder of the price I had paid, a physical manifestation of the horrors that had consumed me.
As the exercise bike vanished into the darkness, leaving me in a state of desolation, my life spiraled into chaos. The job offer that had once held promise vanished, slipping through my fingers like smoke. My ex-spouse, sensing the shift in my demeanor, withdrew the possibility of reconciliation, leaving me alone with the consequences of my actions.
The weight that had once melted away returned with a vengeance, clinging to me like an oppressive burden. The pounds piled on, reflecting not just the physical toll of my choices but the emotional and spiritual toll as well. I found myself isolated and haunted, the memories of the bike's nightmares intertwining with the regrets that consumed me.
The horror-themed website, once my pride and joy, lost its allure. The twisted inspiration that had fueled my writing was gone, replaced by a hollow emptiness. My audience dwindled, questioning my credibility as my judgment came under scrutiny. I had become a mere shell of my former self, a cautionary tale of the dangers of hubris and the high price of redemption.
Each passing day unraveled me further, stripping away the fragments of the life I had built on the foundation of my arrogance. I was left to confront the consequences of my choices, a bitter reminder of the path not taken, the second chance squandered.
As I stood there, facing the wreckage of my life, I couldn't help but wonder if there was still hope for redemption. The exercise bike, now vanished, had left its mark on me, a reminder of the horrors I had faced and the lessons I had learned too late. It served as a haunting symbol of the choices we make and the responsibility we bear for their consequences.
Time passed, and I found myself back at square one, facing the consequences of my actions. The exercise bike's absence served as a haunting reminder of my hubris and the lost opportunity for redemption. The weight returned, a physical manifestation of my failures, while the echoes of the bike's terrors continued to haunt my dreams.
I was left to ponder the lessons I had learned too late. The exercise bike, once a portal to transformation and possibility, now stood as a testament to my squandered second chance. With a heavy heart, I contemplated the cycle of my life, knowing that unless I broke free from my destructive patterns, history would repeat itself, and I would lose everything and everyone all over again.
The exercise bike remained a cautionary tale, whispered among those who dared to seek shortcuts to their desires. Its whereabouts remained unknown, its power left unchecked. And as I grappled with my demons, I realized that the true horror lay not in the bike itself but in the choices we make and the consequences we face.
And so, I stood there, amidst the remnants of my shattered life, knowing that true redemption would require more than a supernatural shortcut. It would demand that I confront my deepest fears, make amends for my mistakes, and forge a new path—one built on humility, empathy, and the unwavering commitment to face the horrors within myself without seeking external sources of power.
The exercise bike had been a catalyst, a twisted gift that revealed the darkness within me. It had taken me to the edge of my sanity and forced me to confront the demons that lurked in the depths of my soul. But ultimately, it was up to me to rebuild, to find redemption within myself and seek a life free from the cycle of fear and hubris.
As I took my first uncertain steps forward, I carried with me the lessons learned from the enigmatic delivery. The exercise bike had been a harrowing chapter in my life, but it was not the end of my story. With determination and a newfound understanding, I vowed to break free from the haunting grip of the past and embrace a future shaped by humility, growth, and the pursuit of true redemption.

Hello I was wondering if anyone has any recommendations for an equivalent Differential Equations course that I could take this summer. I am looking for something somewhat affordable and completely asynchronous. I was going to enroll into RIT's course however the price was not feasible and after trying 3-4 other schools I am somewhat lost. Currently, I am enrolled in the Monroe Community College summer course however I am worried about the workload as I will be working a full time job during the summer as well. Let me know if anyone has any advice or recommendations regarding MCC's classes or anyone's else.