I love my father.
He sits in his yellowing, threadbare sofa with its many patches and spill stains that bloom like misshapen ochre flowers and watches the television, chuckling along whenever the blonde man with his blinding teeth teased into a smile cracks a joke that tickles him, shaking his head in amusement. He brings a biscuit to his mouth, absent-mindedly brushing away the crumbs that fall off the side. His hand shudders.
I walk towards him, and he turns to face me. His eyes crinkle into a smile as he grins up at me, empty patches of darkness where he has lost his teeth. I smile back at him softly, nudging forward the medication I have neatly placed on a plate, and his smile falters, his eyebrows creasing into a frown. It pains me as much as it pains him, to wait in agony, unable to do anything as his dementia eats away at his once brilliant brain, rotting away his memories inevitably. As the days flick by, it is more of a rarity now that he looks at me with warm familiarity in his eyes, rather than the cold terror, gazing at not his daughter, but a nameless stranger.
I wonder sometimes about the things he remembers, and the memories that left without a goodbye. Does he still recall those times when he rocked me to sleep as the stars watched us from behind the curtains of clouds, held my hands gingerly as I walked stubbornly with my podgy legs, ran after me while I cycled shakily for the first time, beamed at me proudly as I attained my first job? Does he remember the daughter he raised single-handedly, the daughter who blossomed into the vibrant flower she is today?
I am selfish, I know. He is all I have left, and I his. On the days he looks at me guardedly, shaking in fear, I try to soothe him, jog his memories, bring him down the long-winded memory lane. The time that elapses as his memories click in and he recognizes me once more has been slowly, but ever so persistently, increasing. I sometimes want to scream at him, for how can he forget his own daughter? His own pride and joy? But it is not fair to him, not fair that the most basic of tasks make him flustered and dazed, not fair that his daily activities limit to only watching brainless television and dogmatically following my orders, not fair that the memories of his daughter is reduced to one of the many feathers tickling his brain, just out of his reach.
My father frowns tiredly, picking up the chalky red pill right in front of him, and with a moment’s hesitation, pops it into his mouth, swallowing it down with the water I brought to him. I hold back a fatigued sigh of relief, quietly rejoicing that I did not have to force him to take his medicine. Dementia is resilient. It rushes in, like a tidal wave, biding its time, before abruptly gathering speed and crashing devastatingly onto shore. The red pill tries its best to hold it off, but it will not matter one day. Eventually dementia will win, taking my father’s mind along with it like a morbid war prize, pushing him into the beckoning arms of Death knocking on his door.
My father looks at me with watery eyes. “I still remember, you know,” he takes my hand in his own gnarled one. “I remember that tomorrow is your birthday.”
I love my father. How can I not, as I look at him, and he looks back with all the love he holds in his eyes? His love that has enveloped me over every day, from the moment I was born till now. My father, who struggles to piece together his own name, but cherishes me in his heart, refusing to let me go, refusing to relinquish me into forgetfulness. I smile back at my father, softly holding him up and bringing him to his bed. I tuck him into his worn blankets and wait till his eyes droop and his breath steadies into deep, rhythmic pulls before I convince myself he will live through the night before finally tiptoeing back to my own bed, falling into a restless, interrupted doze of my own.
My dreams shift in flashes of color and nothing more. I wake sleepily, eyes still gritty from sleep and instantly, like always, my heart seizes with anxiety. The silence is always deafening in the morning, and I have to pray that my father is still asleep soundly in his bed instead of wandering in a disoriented blur outside our house. I make my way shakily to his room, my bare feet growing numb on the cold tiles of the floor. Creaking the door open, I nudge my head into his room, my eyes slowly getting used to the faint light from the cracks of dawn peeping through the windows.
The bed is empty. Blankets and covers are rumpled into an untidy heap in one corner, and the gaping absence of my father in his bed mocks me, punishing me for my carelessness and disregard for his fragile safety. I am sure I left the door locked, but panic seizes me like a taut rubber band, and I rush downstairs, flying two steps at a time, my dress hampering around my legs as I burst into the kitchen, only to find my father sitting on the dining chair, nursing a hot cup of coffee. He smiles at me in warm greeting, only for it to dim ever so slightly as his eyes travel over my haphazard state and the wild frenzy blazing in my eyes.
No matter how many times I remind my father that life is unkind and unjust, that it is not, and will never be, his fault if he does something like this, it pains him to think of himself as a burden for me to constantly worry and fret over. I have to tell him over and over that there is nothing he can do that will make me resent him. Ever. Yet he always looks at me forlornly, his disbelief set like a cold and heavy stone. Time passes in a hazy cloud, and he falls deeper and deeper into the gallows of his diseased brain, and I wonder who it is I am trying to convince more, my father or myself.
Guilt and shame harden his eyes, but I interrupt him before he can open his mouth to offer his heartbreaking apologies for causing me such trouble, choosing to instead focus on making him breakfast, fussing over him as he eats slowly, savoring each mouthful of his pitiful meal of whole grain bread. It is only then I consider his tired eyes, still droopy from sleep, his wrinkled clothes, smudged with dirt and what looks suspiciously like mud.
“What’s all that on your clothes?” I try to keep my voice light, hoping he takes the tremble in my voice for mere prying curiosity rather than shaky fear. I swallow the lump on my throat, trying to stop all the qualms roaming around my head, screaming at me all the deadly things he could have done, or that could have happened to him. I quickly scan for any injuries on his body, but other than dirt accumulating under his fingernails and the small yellowing bruise from a couple of days ago when he bumped his head on the sofa, my search comes up clear.
My father smiles at me, his lips turning up into his achingly familiar kindly smile, eyes crinkling into its fine lines. He seems…happy. Really happy. This makes me soften my demeanor, relaxing a little. It has been so long since I have seen my father truly, genuinely happy. Not forced laughs at my pitiful attempts at making jokes, not soulless guffaws at the numerous TV shows flashing in neon all night, and certainly not the little chuckles from observing the antics of our neighbors next door with the raucous kids giggling barefoot around in their overgrown backyard. I grin back at him, wishing this moment could stretch on to infinity, so that time will not creep on us and steal this rare burst of joy away.
“What is it?” I ask him, a teasing note in my question as I begin sweeping away the little brown crumbs that have dribbled out of my father’s mouth as he finishes his tasteless bread. “I got you a birthday present,” his smile widens. I straighten up, my heart swarming with all kinds of emotions. I consider, fleetingly, if the fluttering in my stomach is excitement, but it is cold trepidation instead.
“I invited your sister to come today for your birthday,” he grins, quiet triumph making his eyes glitter. My heart clenches and I freeze, trying to comprehend his words, unraveling them slowly like delicate silk. “W-what?” I splutter, trying to search my father’s oblivious face for any grasp of information. It cannot be. It simply cannot. My father nudges his head in the direction of our living room. His smile grows wider still. “See for yourself.”
I cannot get my body to move at first, so resolute it is in warning me that danger is lurking in the living room, in the shape of my sister’s complicated, twisted soul. But I manage to shuffle slowly in the right direction. The hallway seems to stretch to eternity, looming and ominous, shadows lengthening and taunting me with its mimicry of fabled devils. The television is turned on, as though my father just fell asleep in front of it like always. Static blares out, interrupted by snatches of words from forgettable broadcasters. I stand at the entrance, forcing myself to look at the silhouette framed by the light from the television on the battered sofa.
My sister looks back at me, her teeth widened to a lopsided smile.
“I thought she might like to watch something nice while I talked to you about your surprise,” my father appears noiselessly behind me, making me start. His breath tickles my cheek, making the hair stand up on its end, erect with alarm. I watch him as he meanders his way through the labyrinth of carefully folded stacked clothes that have fallen gently to its side and towers of newspaper my father has hoarded where you can see his manic scribbling in aged crossword puzzles and stands over my sister’s overly relaxed form, gingerly patting her head fondly. “I told her you would be excited that she came by,” he adds nervously, his eyes flicking from the top of my sister’s head and at my frozen state. I tear my disbelieving eyes from my sister and gaze back at my father. I watch his nerves wreaking havoc in him, looking at me with plea, like a child begging their mother for a forbidden toy. I try to relax my face, hoping my half-hearted smile abates his anxiousness. I cannot watch him despair at my expense. “Of course it’s ok,” I say, the strain in my voice not as hidden as I thought it would be. I screw my eyes shut and stumble back to the kitchen, resting my head against the cool granite counter, wishing for my heart to stop racing and my mind to quieten. My father’s happiness and peace of mind...that is all I wish for now.
I love my father. And in the beginning, so did my sister. We loved him when he raised us by himself, working tirelessly to make ends meet, put a roof over our heads and kept our stomachs full. We grew together, just the three of us, a tiny, wounded family, my sister and I taking shelter from the many insurmountable hurdles that life threw at us behind our reliable father. My sister was the life of the party– sparkling, bursting with color like a crackling firecracker. She was always the star of the show, commanding the stage with nothing but brazenness and sheer optimism. She was electric with life.
That was until the day my father was diagnosed with early onset dementia. The day the doctors sombrely told us that there was nothing we could do but watch our beloved father spiral into fugue dreams. The day we knew the father we knew-the brilliant, hardworking, intelligent, selfless man- will never be the same again. The signs were always there, tiptoeing towards the diagnosis. He had begun to forget the days of the week, misplacing everyday items, taking too long to answer our questions, gaping at us blearily as we repeated ourselves painfully. But my sister and I danced around the issue, never quite bringing it up, treating it like a curse, neither of us wanting to break the tranquility, until the day my father woke up and did not remember where he was.
My sister fell apart, like a puppet with its strings ruthlessly cut. She was old enough to remember when our mother had died tragically, and she could not bear to see the loss of another parent, one whom she loved so deeply. I woke up one morning to see her bed empty, her blanket still crumpled, hanging off a corner, her wardrobe doors held ajar, stripped bare. I was not surprised. She did not even leave a note explaining her flight. She simply disappeared.
While my father spiraled, I heard whispers. People in our neighborhood offered sympathetic smiles or avoided their gaze and did nothing more. Their hushed whispers turned more sinister, darker as time ticked by like a sullen clock. Innocent speculations as to where my sister had run off to turned into filthy, dirty rumors that she was living on the streets, begging strangers for money, shooting herself up and living in a cloud of hazy drugs. I listened quietly, knowing the stories were all true. I knew they were, because my sister, in the five months she had run away, had only called once, high as a kite, asking for money to cover her expensive drug habits. I hung up on her while she was still talking, her unnaturally shrill voice ringing in my head. With my sister gone, I knew I had lost my family, and only my father remained to me.
I look at her now, still grinning up painfully at me, and a stabbing pain shoots through me. She smiles like she was there all those times our father wandered through the streets barefoot, and I had to tear through the town frantically calling out for him; those times he asked about her, wondering where she was, and I lied through my teeth that she was just away and would be back soon. My father holds her by the hand and brings her to the kitchen, beaming with utter joy. He looks so happy. I sigh and drag myself into the kitchen, where my father has already pulled out my birthday cake that we made together the previous day from the fridge and placed it in front of my silent sister. I stare at the icing on the small, slanted cake. My father had insisted on decorating, and his almost illegible, childlike writing of ‘Happy Birthday, Daughter Dear,’ had made me feel a rush of affection for my father, but now fills me with quiet, cold dread. Like someone had walked over my grave.
My father pushes the knife into my hands. I hold it as he bursts into the birthday song, his voice warbling with emotion, tears running down his face as he wraps his arm around me and gave me a kiss on my temple. I try to feign a smile at him, but my stomach rolls over at the sight of my sister sitting behind my father, her empty eyes gazing directly through me, and I read the unspoken accusations in them, the utter hatred and disgust. I swallow and pull myself out of my father’s loving embrace and shuffle away. “Aren’t you going to cut the cake?” My father turns to look at me, puzzled. I pause for a moment before slicing the cake slowly with my trembling hands. I pull a slice of the gooey mess onto a plate and slide it over to him, and after he discretely nudges his head towards my sister’s eerily still self, I give her a plate too. For a few minutes, there is nothing but the sound of spoons scraping against the flimsy paper plates as we tuck into the slightly bitter chocolate cake, until my father notices my sister’s untouched meal.
Concern makes him grab her wrist, his fingers easily encircling her small frame. “Haven’t you been eating? Look at how small you’ve gotten!” He exclaims, feeling her spindly, twig-like arms and fragile fingers. I say nothing, my eyes trained on my food, my stomach churning like a pack of worms, but my father has other plans. “Don’t you think your sister is too skinny?” He asks me, and I shrug non-committedly. I feel him glaring at me, his eyes burning holes through me. As I get up to throw my plate away, he grabs me and brings me into the empty hallway.
“Don’t you think it’s about time you stop this silly fight with her?” My father says wearily. I look into his tired, anxious eyes, and I want to scream at him. Does he not remember what she did? All the awful, awful things that had happened? I restrain myself and force my lips to turn up into a smile. Don’t snap, that is the first rule when dealing with dementia patients. “I’ll talk to her,” I promise him, the lies easily falling from my mouth like all the others I had fed him over the past few months. He relaxes, and snakes his hand along my shoulder, enveloping me in a tight side-hug, whispering a muttered ‘thank you’, before heading back to the kitchen and uproariously inviting my sister to watch television with him.
I do not go with them. I hide in the kitchen as long as I can, cleaning all the dishes slowly and methodically, as my thoughts race faster than I can comprehend them, tumbling over one another, wrestling to take control. I toss my sister’s uneaten cake into the trash. Even through the walls separating us, I hear snatches of many commercial breaks, punctuated by my father’s hearty chuckles. Whatever he thinks my sister is telling him must be very funny indeed. I sit on the cold kitchen table and watch the clock, willing time to fly quickly and throw me into the embrace of the future.
The yellow rays of the amber sun fade to make way for the gloom of the night to settle in. Already I hear the crickets singing to their hearts’ content from our garden. Wiping my hands on my clothes, I make my way through to the living room, my mind made up, calm and collected. My sister sits upright on the couch, facing the television impassively. My father is sprawled on the sofa next to her, his head lolling on the armrest, soft snores drowned by the television still turned on. A tense silence settles between my sister and I, somehow louder than the crickets and the television combined. She avoids my gaze and resolutely watches the screen flashing. My hands curl to fists, but I tiptoe to my father.
“I think it’s time for her to go, don’t you think? It’s getting late.” I whisper in his ear. My father shifts, bloodshot eyes blearily blinking up at me. “Tell her goodbye for me, won’t you?” He mutters, his eyes screwing shut again. I do not have to wait long until his breaths become full and steady once more, and without a word, I hold my sister by her hand and bring her out of the house. She offers no resistance, like as though she knows where she is going. Her defenses are down, like someone who has given up.
The garden is a handiwork of my father, and my father alone. The doctor recommended me to let him create a hobby for him to exercise his mind and keep it alive as long as possible, a tiny shred still linking him to reality for when his mind wanders too far away from our reach. He spends whole days pottering around, watering freshly sown seeds and admiring the pretty kaleidoscope of flowers. A slice of heaven on earth, he calls it. In the winter, it has shriveled up, protecting itself from harsh winds and pelts of snow, but my father is certain that the garden will nurse itself back. The resilience of life. We stand there, side by side. The moon looms over us, and I spot two small stars winking down below. I like to think that one is for either of us. I stand there with my once lovely sister until the coldness wraps me like a freezing blanket and numbs my fingers, and then I bring her to the back of the garden to the tulip patch.
Tulips have always been my sister’s favorite flowers. My father, as much as he has forgotten, still holds on to this like sacred knowledge. The tulips have withered, hiding their faces in shame with what is left of their dull petals. There is a big hole right beside it, hastily dug. My father must have referred to this when he mentioned he was gardening earlier today. The shovel leans on the mound of soil next to the gaping hole. I push my sister down and bury her for the second time.
I love my father. I know what you are thinking, but I assure you, everything I have done, and everything I ever will do, is for him only. I want him to be happy, I always have, something any dutiful daughter would say. I did not know I would have to sacrifice my sister for that.
Last month, after I received a call from my drugged out sister trying to persuade me for money and I had hung up on her unceremoniously, I went back home from work like I always did. The door hung ajar, the lock twisted off, and I knew something was wrong. My father must have wandered out again, somehow managing to pry open the lock and fled to the streets wrapped in his delusions. But then I realized the floor was slippery, and the soles of my shoes stained a deep red. Fear clamped onto me like a starving beast, I do not remember what happened next fully, only in snatches of pictures then run in my head like an endless loop of film. Blood that splattered the hallway, leading to the living room. My father sobbing, his hands clamping his mouth, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, riddled with guilt. The bloody knife that shook in his tight fist. My sister lying stiffly on the floor, her own blood pooling around her, oozing from her wounds. Her eyes unseeing, her body tinged with blue. The smell of copper so thick it hung like a heavy curtain, and I could almost taste it in the back of my throat. My father asking me, “Who is she?”
My brain had instantaneously locked into survival mode. I thought of my father when I tore the shower curtain and wrapped my sister’s corpse in it, tying it with knots of fraying string and duct tape. I splashed bleach all over the house until it tingled my eyes and nose and rubbed furiously at the splashes of blood that had begun flaking like dust. I tossed my father’s splattered clothes into the washing machine where they spun in a muddy mess, but the stains remained, so I threw them into the fire I set in the backyard. I washed my hands raw, scrubbing my skin until my fingers bled.
I found bloodstained money in my sister’s backpack. I knew at a glance it was mine and she had come to the house for this very reason after I had rejected her plea. The bag contained nothing else other than a packet of tissue, with pinpricks of blood, a small syringe, cotton wool and the laminated driver’s license of my once beautiful sister. When I looked at her old photo of her, I saw the secrets in her smoke and mirror eyes. They all went into the fire, bleeding into each other until they curled up into charred remains. I waited for night to enshroud us with shadows before I dragged my sister’s corpse outside to the garden, and I began to dig, flinging mud until my arms ached and my body shuddered with something more than coldness. I dug until I could go no more, my body racking with quiet sobs, the soil turning dark with the tears that rolled off my face. I cried for my sister, the one who was with me in my darkest moments, the one I prayed every day would return to us, to complete our family of three. I cried as I rolled her body into the grave and I cried more when I shoveled the earth onto her face, her agony of the last throes of death still etched on her gaunt face, her empty eyes staring up at me.
When I finished, I looked up to see a shadow by my father’s window, watching impassively down at the garden. I could not face my father, the man who killed my sister, so I sat near my sister’s grave and wished her goodbye.
I never went to the police. My father was all I had. I could not let him go to prison, waking up everyday to unfamiliar prison guards roughing him up, to bars of steel to protect others from him. I quit my job and stayed home to take care of my father, flinching at every knock on the door, every ring of the doorbell, expecting the police to swarm the place and ask for my sister reported missing. But they never came, and slowly my unease left, though the guilt never did. She had disappeared off the face of the earth; my father had erased her off, like she had never existed. The day after I buried my older sister in my garden, I watched my father plant tulips near her grave.
I hide the shovel this time round. My father had never once mentioned my sister after the incident. I had hoped against hope this was due to his failing memory, but I know now that in some deep recess of his mind, he must have known the answer would have haunted him, as much as it haunts me. I used to envy that his mind was failing him, for I so wished to forget. Instead, I woke up almost every night gasping, shaking, from nightmares, of images of bloody hands dragging me into the fiery pits of hell, of my sister’s maimed body crawling after me. I make my way back into the house. My father has not moved since the last time I saw him. His snores reverberate around the cramped room, his hand still clutching onto the remote. I watch him, wanting to enter his tricky mind, wanting to know what he is thinking. This man who stayed up at night when I fell ill. This man who posed my sister’s corpse around the house, so that she could leer at me with flesh rotting off of her face. Did he think digging my sister’s body up will give her life again? That she would walk and talk and laugh like she used to? I spot the kitchen knife inches away from his hands, on the cluttered table, along with remains of the cake. When he wakes up, will he greet me with a smile like always, or will he lunge for the knife? It is always a guessing game with him, every chance a risk, every choice leaving me breathless with fear. I dangle from a tightrope on the precipice of a cavern that is his brain riddled with his dementia, his forgotten memories and the illusions he create for himself.
I move the knife away from his fingers and grasp onto it tightly and look down at it. A month ago, my fingers were stained with my sister’s blood. Now, they are gritty with filth and soil from her makeshift grave. I wish to give her a proper burial someday, in a decent grave, with a nice headstone, finally at peace.
My fingers tighten on the blade. My repressed memories flood in, drowning my thoughts with all my pain and hurt. I see my sister’s death immortalized on her face. Her remaining eye sewn shut, swarming with maggots. My father whimpering as his daughter lay bleeding at his feet, his shame rolling off of him in desperate waves. My father beaming at me, pruning his lovely tulips, each leaf falling gently on the grave below his feet.
I love my father, but I wish he were dead.

I've always tried to be conscious of the privileges I have, for instance: white privilege, pretty privilege (I personally am not super attracted to myself, but I get enough attention to know that my feelings are not universal), I have various talents that were supported and encouraged by family, and I am moderately intelligent. Of course this doesn't cover every advantage, just sort of a broad overview of the more widely accepted forms.
However, while talking to my friends/boyfriend, I've come to realize I experience the world entirely differently than they do. I've come to the conclusion that there must be something I'm not aware of, some kind of mystery privilege, and it's driving me crazy not knowing what it is.
I'll provide a few examples:
A) Pretty much no one gets mad at me, like, ever. There have been maybe four or five occasions in the past three or four years where someone has gotten pissed at me, but all of these times have been of little consequence to me. In pretty much all of these instances no one liked the people who had a problem with me, so there weren't really any social repercussions. And that's not to say I never do anything worth getting mad over-- apparently other people get in huge trouble for things that I get away with on a regular basis. Like at work, my bosses would routinely look the other way whenever I broke rules, and I even moved up the ladder quickly. I thought everyone was getting away with things the way I did, and I attributed the promotions I received to just being a good employee, which I was, despite the rule breaking I was the best trainer, I was cross trained for every position, I was the best at de-escalating conflict both with employees and customers, etc. Now I'm starting to question whether or not I actually deserved to be promoted as quickly and as frequently as I was.
B) People are always trying to be my friend. Often times I would try to put in earbuds and listen to music while I got work done, and I would give up after a bit because people would keep coming up to me to talk to me-- ask my opinion on something, tell me about their lives, make jokes, etc. Not even things about work, just wanting to hear what I had to say. It was nice, for sure, im an extrovert so social interaction is great, but also sometimes I just wanted to zone out and work. Not that I can't do both, just that I wanted to turn my brain off a bit. It's like that with customers, too, they're super nice to me.
C) People apparently act differently around me than they do others. I live in a small town, so everyone knows everyone. I only moved here a few years ago, while my friends have lived here for most of their lives. A lot of times we'll talk about someone we all know, and they'll mention insanely bigoted things this person has said, or how awful this person treats others, and I'll be so confused. I think I kind of have this one figured out, because a lot of these people will have said something around me once or twice that was unacceptable, but I would shut it down, and we'd never have that issue again, and everything would be fine. So maybe I was just assertive? But then when I would mention that my friends would be surprised-- apparently when you talk to people like that they usually hate you, but many of these people still try really hard to get me to like them (even though I have no interest in that). This has been the biggest indicator for me that there's something afoot.
D) Whenever something bad happens to me, everyone comes together to try and help me, and they ask nothing in return (of course that doesn't stop me from trying to repay them). I've always thought I just had a really great community/support system, but apparently not everyone in the same group gets the same treatment. I've always been super grateful and felt so incredibly lucky that so many people are willing to go out of their way to make sure I'm doing well. I genuinely feel so loved at all times. I'm tearing up just thinking about it so I think I'll leave that there.
This is not to say I've never had troubles, I've just always found a way to navigate them and come out on top. Most of my life before I became an adult was very hard and very rocky, but I survived, and I have a really great life now. But I've always thought the life I have now was the baseline everyone else was operating on. Now that I know I get some kind of special treatment, I'd really like to know why. I try really hard to be introspective and as self aware as possible, so it's driving me bonkers not understanding where this is coming from? Please help!
(This is a throw away account because I'm aware of how this sounds-- I was annoyed the whole time I wrote it because it feels like bragging or something and I hate that, it's gross. But I need SOME kind of answer! I'll answer anything I can, just please help I feel like I'm losing my mind.)

In today’s fast-paced world, technology has become an indispensable part of our daily lives. From the moment we wake up to the time we go to bed, various forms of technology influence how we live, work, and interact with each other. The website Digital Edenz highlights the myriad ways technology impacts our daily routines and underscores its importance. Here’s an in-depth look at why technology is so crucial in our everyday lives.
Enhancing Communication
One of the most significant impacts of technology is on communication. The advent of smartphones, social media, and messaging apps has revolutionized the way we connect with others. We can instantly communicate with friends and family across the globe, participate in video calls, and share experiences in real-time. This level of connectivity was unimaginable a few decades ago and has made maintaining relationships easier than ever before.
Boosting Productivity
In the workplace, technology plays a pivotal role in enhancing productivity. Computers, software applications, and the internet have streamlined many business processes. Tools like email, project management software, and cloud storage have made collaboration more efficient. Employees can now work remotely, access important documents from anywhere, and communicate with their teams without being physically present. This flexibility not only increases productivity but also improves work-life balance.
Improving Education
Technology has transformed the education sector by making learning more accessible and engaging. E-learning platforms, educational apps, and online courses have made it possible for individuals to acquire new skills from the comfort of their homes. Interactive tools such as virtual classrooms, multimedia presentations, and gamified learning experiences cater to different learning styles and help students grasp complex concepts more easily. This democratization of education is empowering individuals to pursue lifelong learning and enhance their career prospects.
Advancing Healthcare
In the field of healthcare, technology has led to significant advancements in diagnosis, treatment, and patient care. Medical technologies like MRI machines, robotic surgery, and telemedicine have improved the accuracy of diagnoses and the effectiveness of treatments. Wearable health devices and mobile health apps enable individuals to monitor their health in real-time, leading to more proactive management of chronic conditions and overall well-being. These innovations are not only saving lives but also enhancing the quality of life for many.
Facilitating Daily Tasks
Technology simplifies numerous daily tasks, making life more convenient. From smart home devices that control lighting and temperature to online shopping and digital payments, technology streamlines everyday activities. GPS navigation helps us find our way, while voice-activated assistants like Alexa and Siri provide answers and perform tasks on command. Information technological conveniences save time and effort, allowing us to focus on more meaningful activities.
Entertainment and Leisure
Our entertainment options have also expanded exponentially due to technology. Streaming services, video games, and social media platforms offer endless opportunities for relaxation and enjoyment. Virtual reality (VR) and augmented reality (AR) technologies provide immersive experiences that were once the stuff of science fiction. These forms of entertainment not only provide enjoyment but also serve as a means of social interaction and cultural exchange.
Conclusion
The importance of technology in our daily lives cannot be overstated. It enhances communication, boosts productivity, improves education, advances healthcare, facilitates daily tasks, and offers diverse entertainment options. As we continue to integrate technology into every aspect of our lives, it is essential to stay informed about the latest advancements and their potential impacts. Embracing technology can lead to a more connected, efficient, and enriched life. For more insights into the role of technology in our daily lives, visit Digital Edenz and explore their comprehensive resources on this topic.

Woke up today to yet another hugely upvoted reddit rant on how D&D is monopolizing the market and people won't touch anything else.
What's funny is the comment suggestions are "run a D&D campaign and recruit players from there".
According to index.rpg.net, there's some 20,000 RPGs in nature. Whenever someone near me starts talking about D&D, I always hit them with this fact, then immediately ask:

• How many have you read?
• How many have you played?
• How many have you run?

I point out that many of these RPGs do a much better job than D&D at most everything - including tactical dungeon crawling - and quite a lot of them are easier to learn, play, and run. I also talk about the OGL fiasco and other shady business practices such as the Pinkertons.
All this makes it immediately clear to the other person that D&D is not representative of the hobby. It's just one RPG out of an entire sea of much better alternatives not currently in the hands of morally bankrupt execs.
Then I point out I haven't run D&D or any derivatives in over 10 years, and these are the reasons.
Folks, you want to break the market monopoly?
It's fairly simple - if all GMs suddenly decided to stop running D&D today, the monopoly would break tomorrow.
With that in mind I'm putting forth the 20,000 RPG Revolution. In order to join you need to do the following:

• Full Stop running D&D from right now - any edition.
• Convince other GMs to full stop running D&D by explaining all of the above.
• Don't even play or engage with D&D in any way, shape or form. Remember, Engagement is Endorsement.
• Boycott any D&D products in any way shape or form along with third party products.
• Organize an alternative RPG night at your local FLGS, and boycott stores without one by organizing alternative play spaces.
• Run simple beginner games with simple introductions, teaching at the table.

The revolution will not be kickstarted.
There are no signups, no t-shirts, no fancy fundariser campagins, no prizes, and you won't get extra players and you won't sell more products. In fact, be wary of anyone trying to build this revolution into a money making, branded hype train of any sort, since that will only lead to more corporate interests.
Quite the contrary, chances are you'll see only empty tables, pushback from other GMs and players, not to mention the FLGS. I should know, I've been living this for a decade.
In a worst case scenario, you might even get doxxed by corporate employees or have the Pinkertons on your ass.
So ask yourselves, especially those who love to complain:
Do I have the guts to join the 20,000 RPGs Revolution?
Rethorical question, of course, one you'll have to answer yourself, since I'm disabling inbox replies.
After all this time, I already know nothing will change...

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Hey y’all. I’d like to get your thoughts on this, and would really appreciate a different perspective. Parents, teachers, school admin - anyone! I’d love to hear from you. (And a No; I did not, and will not, be ‘yelling at the principal’! 💕rather… possibly stopping my partner from doing it.)
Our teen got an out of school suspension, his first form of punishment at this school, ever-which is (I thought) a bit harsh for a first-timer and based on what he did.
So, yesterday, I went to talk to the vice principal (the one who caught them, and wrote the punishment) to politely ‘beg for mercy’, in a way, since a flat-out suspension was A LOT for this infraction. I worried about his future, how it impacts honors classes, college, etc - I don’t really know these things.
I was extremely nice to the VP, and he was to me - and we had a productive conversation. I’m not a yeller, I would NEVER! Only unless it was something atrocious, or truly warranted. I don’t feel this is it.
The VP very nicely and respectfully said I could appeal it, and gave me the form. He was lovely, and that sounded reasonable. I’ll attempt to appeal it, since it’s his first time offense, and he doesn’t fight, or do drugs, or sell vapes in the bathroom, impregnating people, like most of his schoolmates.
He’s a good kid, and since there aren’t actual classes now, they’re expected to just go to the cafeteria and ‘play on their phones’.
Yes, this is utter bullshit, but it’s the end of school; and they’re an impoverished, understaffed nightmare. I deeply feel for the staff. They can’t retain employees. The kids are wild. The fights alone… holy fuck!
My kid, and about 5 others, didn’t go to the cafeteria, but instead, fucked off to the gym, with the lights off, and some were climbing things (and being loud, dumb freshmen) and were caught by the VP. “skipping class; out of bounds without supervision” says the suspension.
Harsh, but…. “Don’t skip class and play in a dark gym, alone, maybe?“ They could have been hurt, if I’m thinking like a principal and mom.
I also see the side that they weren’t even considered ‘missing or absent’, because no one took attendance in the stupid cafeteria… They only got caught because the vice principal happened to walk by at the right/wrong time.
They know better, but it’s also kind of the responsibility of the school to vaguely keep track of them. I will be mentioning this in the appeal.
Anyway.
The vice principal even saved his suspension for the last day of school, in case he had any last-minute work to do. He’s a nice guy, trying to be fair, and working in a troubled school.
The oooone thing I am a bit 🤨 about is I am completely unable to access the student handbook online, and they offered to “send one home with my son” , but I’d have liked to have that before I went in. Of course, the hard copy I got has been around, all year, and I’ve never needed it - and the one day I do, I couldn’t find it.
The other eyebrow-raiser was (at first), another one of the kids in the gym ‘already has so many suspensions’, that the VP didn’t give that one student an out-of-school suspension. He didn’t want him to miss any more school.
But… I know this other kid, I like him. A bit troubled, but a kind little guy, and I can understand that decision, as a compassionate one, for a troubled student. Ya know? I don’t see it as ‘Giving him a break’. It’s not.
No, none of this is fair - not having real classes, or even taking attendance, in a bullshit busy period - but if ONE more suspension meant an expulsion for this troubled kid, who I really like…? good, that he didn’t get one!!
My husband is FURIOUS. He’s insisting I “go to the school” (again) and “raise hell with the principal!!1!”
Mmmmmmmm, no.
First off, they don’t even seem to be ‘above’ the vice principal, like he thinks. They’re more like a team. He thinks the principal will be able to change it.
So he’s taken off work (maybe) and wants to go in and do this.
I think once he gets there, he’s going to be told to go through the proper channels, and file the appeal like everyone else!
Also, my kid is worried that this will embarrass him - and I’m in agreement with that! You don’t just go in “raising hell with the principal” for this.
It doesn’t do anyone any good, or gain you any respect. There are certain times when it definitely is appropriate to yell at someone!! I just don’t feel that this is one of those times, when I’ve been given the school’s procedure, to file the appeal, and I was treated with respect. Because I gave respect.
He’s accusing me of being too soft, and that I have to “channel -aggressive family friend-“ and “go give ‘em hell!”
I’m not even sure if I’m going to let him, although we don’t necessarily “let” each other do things. I guess, I’m not gonna stop him from going to look like an idiot, but maybe I should. I definitely want NO part in it!
So, my fellow 30’s ladies, I’m sorry this was long, but I’d love to hear your perspectives, even if it is that I am a marshmallow/weenie, and I need to go ‘stand up for this.’
Thanks in advance 💕

If you are in the position to support my work, I have a patreon, venmo, and a paypal set up. Just three dollars a month makes a huge difference! No pressure though, I will keep posting these pieces publicly no matter what - paywalls suck.
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Arizona

Supporters of an abortion rights initiative in Arizona have reportedly obtained enough signatures to appear on the November ballot, though it still needs to be verified by the secretary of state this summer. Abortion is currently legal during the first 15 weeks of pregnancy. The proposed ballot measure would amend the Arizona Constitution to establish a fundamental right to abortion before the point of fetal viability (generally around the 24th week of pregnancy).

• The initiative gained steam after the Arizona Supreme Court ruled last month that an 1864 territorial ban on abortions is enforceable. Following several attempts by Republicans to block the bill, a coalition of Democrats and several conservatives passed a repeal of the 160-year-old ban earlier this month, reinstating the state’s previous 15-week limit on abortions.

Now, Republican legislators are trying to limit future ballot initiatives—like the one aiming to enshrine abortion rights—with a measure of their own. If passed, the Arizona Signature Distribution Requirement for Initiatives Amendment would change the threshold for petitioners to get a measure on the ballot: instead of requiring 10-15% of all votes cast in the most recent governor’s race (a statewide threshold), the proposed change would force citizen-led efforts to collect 10-15% from each of the state’s 30 legislative districts.

This would require tremendous logistical feats from any citizen-led effort. Canvassers would need to dramatically scale up their presence in the most remote parts of Arizona, unable to rely on high-traffic areas and denser population centers.
Arizonans who have experience working on signature-gathering told Bolts that this requirement could prove insurmountable to them given the resources and capacity it would call for. “This is nothing but a backdoor way to shut down the initiative process,” said Jim Barton, an election law attorney who has been involved in numerous legal fights over the rules of initiatives in Arizona.

If voters approve the Signature Distribution measure, citizens will be left without a valuable tool to affect change in a state whose legislature has been controlled by Republicans for several decades. Arizonans used the ballot initiative process to enact important policies in recent years, including raising the minimum wage in 2016, legalizing marijuana in 2020, and requiring campaign donor transparency in 2022.

Mississippi

Meanwhile, Republicans in Mississippi again rejected legislation to restore citizens’ ability to put measures on the ballot three years after a court ruling took away that right. According to a provision of the state’s constitution written in 1992, a proposed constitutional amendment may be approved to appear on the ballot if organizers gather one-fifth of their signatures from each of the state’s five congressional districts. However, in the 2000 reapportionment process, Mississippi lost one congressional seat due to a decrease in population.
Two decades and numerous ballot initiatives later, a medical marijuana group collected enough signatures to appear on the 2020 ballot. Voters approved the measure with an overwhelming 74% majority, allowing people with debilitating conditions like cancer, PTSD, epilepsy, and Parkinson’s disease to access medical marijuana. Mary Hawkins Butler, the Republican mayor of Madison (a suburb of Jackson), sued to block the initiative, arguing that organizers did not meet the signature requirement: instead of collecting an equal number of signatures from the mandatory five congressional districts, they could only collect signatures from four, because Mississippi has only had four since 2001.
The state Supreme Court ruled in Mayor Butler’s favor in 2021, voiding not just the medical marijuana initiative but also the state’s entire citizen-led ballot initiative process unless and until the legislature amended the relevant provision of the constitution. Justice Josiah Coleman, writing for the six justice majority, said, “the loss of congressional districts did, indeed, break (the ballot initiative provision) so that, absent amendment, it no longer functions.”
Every year since, the Republican-controlled legislature has killed bills to reinstate voters’ right to place measures on the ballot. The most recent bills, crafted by Republicans themselves, were extremely favorable to the legislature and introduced new barriers to citizen initiatives—and still did not receive consideration.

Missouri

Democrats in Missouri successfully filibustered a bill that would make it harder to pass citizen-led ballot initiatives ahead of a potential measure to enshrine a right to abortion prior to viability. Under current law, a proposed constitutional amendment must be approved by a simple majority of votes cast statewide. The Republican-backed bill, SJR 74, would require proposed amendments to receive a majority of the votes cast statewide as well as a majority of the votes cast in at least a majority of the Congressional districts. Not only would the change institute additional onerous steps for organizers, but it would virtually ensure only conservative amendments succeed due to Missouri’s partisan gerrymandered districts.
In order to entice voters to support their amendment limiting direct democracy, the state GOP attempted to insert what opponents call “ballot candy”: unrelated and superfluous content intended to trick people into voting for a measure they would otherwise oppose. In this case, the ballot candy was a provision banning non-citizens from voting on constitutional amendments and another prohibiting foreign governments from sponsoring initiatives—both of which are already illegal in the state.
Democrats twice filibustered the bill, forcing the Republican supermajority to abandon the measure during the final day of session last week.

Louisiana

Louisiana legislators advanced a proposal (HB 800), backed by Gov. Jeff Landry (R), earlier this month to call a convention to change the state’s 50-year-old constitution. The document is roughly 35,000 words longer than the average state constitution and has been amended more than 200 times. Most people would agree it could be trimmed and streamlined. However, the governor and his Republican allies are pursuing a rewrite for political purposes with little oversight.
First, the timeline: The legislature intends to convene a convention in the next three months, with a two week deadline and no time for public input. The 1973 convention, by contrast, held a series of public meetings across the state for an entire year before writing the state constitution.
Second, the participants: The 1973 convention was composed of elected delegates, many of them average citizens who took an interest in crafting their state’s charter. Landry’s planned convention would be limited to current lawmakers and delegates chosen by Landry himself.
Third, the guidelines: While HB 800 states that delegates cannot change the meaning of certain sections, like retirement benefits for public employees and pay for sheriffs, it lacks any other controls on what they can edit. Furthermore, experts question whether the limits in HB 800 would even be legally binding.

It’s not clear legislators even have the ability to restrict what is discussed during a constitutional convention. Legal experts have said once a convention is called, the entire document can be opened up and altered, regardless of what limitations the lawmakers place on it ahead of time.

Landry and his allies claim they do not have any immediate changes planned and would simply like to move portions of the constitution into the legal code as statutes. However, this would make it easier for the Legislature to change provisions it doesn’t like because of the lower threshold to edit a law versus the constitution. Rep. Beau Beaullieu (R), the author of HB 800, said last week that the provisions he wants to remove from the constitution include sales tax breaks for residential utilities, prescription drugs, and food purchased for home consumption.

“I think all of those tax items should be in statute,” he said. “If there is a better way to bring in revenue for the state, we need to be able to have that on the table.” …The sales tax breaks on food, residential utilities and prescription drugs could be more easily repealed if those provisions were shifted from the constitution into regular law as Beaullieu and Tucker suggested…
[S]ome conservatives in the Legislature want to expand the state sales tax base in exchange for lowering or eliminating the income tax… Advocates for low-income people have opposed proposals to swap out the income tax for broader sales taxes. Wealthy people and businesses pay the state income tax, but poor people do not. People who are struggling would carry a larger share of the financial burden of a sales tax on essentials like food, utilities and prescription drugs, according to the advocates.

One provision Beaullieu has committed to retaining untouched in the constitution: The “Defense of Marriage” section, defining marriage as between a man and woman, would be retained in case the U.S. Supreme Court overturns Obergefell v. Hodges, making same-sex marriage immediately unlawful again in Louisiana.
If HB 800 passes the Senate, and the convention successfully creates a new constitution, voters will be able to approve or reject the revised document in November.

SEC filling (May 15): S-8 "Securities to be offered to employees in employee benefit plans"
Total of 9.8M possible BUT only 1.6M will now be issued to CEO, CFO and one director.
This is typical for listed companies AND bullish. Executives accept shares as compensation because why? They trust in the upside potential.
"We will not receive any proceeds from the sale of any of our Class A Ordinary Shares by the Selling Shareholders"
These share WONT be sold on the open market!
SEC filling (May 17) 144 "Report of proposed sale of securities"
-This filling indicates that an insides indicates to sell stock BUT read carefully -ZHUOHUA I. is the invest company of Jinhua Wang -He holds 726,500 shares since the IPO -Remember IPO price was 4USD (value of his shares 2.9M USD) -He go awarded with 600,000 shares as part of the employee benefit plan on May 15 (see post down below) -He already filled an 144 on Nov 22, 2023 to sell 510,000 shares -At this point the stock was trading at all time highes 20-25 USD (to his 510k would have been worth >10M USD) -How many did he sell? Exactly: 0 shares -He never filled an form 4 and never sold his shares
As per form 144 ... he cannot sell earlier than May 24. BUT he can sell within 90 days of the filling. AND he does not need to sell. Unless he fills a form 4 (he must within 2 days after execution of sale) there is no sale.
Maybe a sign to the bears?
Recent 144 https://www.sec.gov/Archives/edgadata/1928340/000121390024043612/ea0205599-s8_golden.htm
Old 144 https://www.sec.gov/Archives/edgadata/1928340/000198940323000002/xsl144X01/primary_doc.xml

So I worked for a government org for 6 years and diligently remitted to GSIS, but since I was younger that time, parang binaliwala ko lang and I didn't really look ahead towards retirement as a govt employee. I resigned way back 2021 and currently working on a private employer.
Somehow someone brought it up to me that I should check in GSIS about those 6 years but I don't know what to do.
Just wondering if there's anything that can be done with my previous remittance? Like any form of processes? account closing? May makukuha pa ba ako doon? na "dissolve" na ba yun? suspended? stuff like that.
I'm not really looking forward for any good news, I now just don't want to leave that account hanging anymore. Really appreciate any advice..

I’m typing this all out mostly for myself to process it. I still don’t know what I should have done or could have done better. This must be a common occurrence for frequent BART riders because most people seemed unfazed.
On Monday night around 11:30pm at Powell Street, I got on the train and there was a man passed out in the next car. Another man walked into our car asking if anyone had Narcan. I saw some people gather around the unconscious man and were trying to wake him up. After a few moments, I walked over and asked if they had checked for a pulse. They hadn’t, so I crouched down and felt for his pulse on his wrist. His lips were turning blue and his face was pale, but he had a pulse.
The other man eventually found Narcan and gave him a spray in each nostril. I kept my hand on his wrist and felt his pulse quicken and his breathing got deeper. He started to moan and move, the color came back to his face. It was like watching him come back to life. He wasn’t able to form coherent words yet, but he was trying to speak. He slammed his right hand against the wall, breaking the plexiglass in front the fire extinguisher. I tried keeping him calm and asked for his name.
He told me his name was “Johnny Bravo”, and I couldn’t help but laugh a bit. His hand started bleeding from getting cut on the plexiglass. At this point, the others who had helped earlier were no longer nearby. I noticed some BART staff were there, but they seemed more focused on the delay of the train leaving the station and keeping others away.
I asked what he had taken, he wouldn’t say. He apologized and kept saying he was fine. He was determined to leave despite me asking him to wait for EMS. I asked the BART employee if they had a first aid kit, just to stop the bleeding. Nothing.
I watched him leave the station without getting any medical care. I felt like I had failed. Maybe if I had said something different I could have gotten him to stay.
If you were one of those people on the train who saved that man’s life, thank you. Johnny Bravo, wherever you are, I hope you are still alive.
(TLDR: A man passed out on the train from overdose, got Narcan, left the train without getting medical attention. I felt bad about it.)

Haven't seen anyone talk about this so I will. Please stop making donations through companies /corporations. They collect the sum that is donated by employees or customers and submit the donation as though it comes directly out of the pocket of the company and is used for additional tax incentives and essentially tax dodging at no cost to the companies themselves. If you feel strongly enough about an issue, go online and donate directly to that cause yourself. Every dollar donated through drive thru's, checkout isles, offices, or any form of capital producing business assists in allowing those who should pay the most in paying the least

Hey fellow HR people!
Apologies if this post is not a perfect fit for this subreddit, but I could really use your help! I am conducting a study examining the impact of talent management and related practices on employees' perceptions of their future within their company. Among other things, I am looking at how talent management in the United Kingdom compares with the European Economic Area. As HR managers in the UK, your participation is therefore invaluable!
If you could spare 3-4 minutes to complete a quick survey, it would greatly aid my research and help me finish my Master's degree! Your responses are totally anonymous and secure, and the data will only be used in aggregate form.
If you're interested in helping me, here is the survey link: https://qualtricsxmyzqgqcvnn.qualtrics.com/jfe/form/SV_etZPf1k5V1M0PRA?Q_Language=EN
Please don't hesitate to contact me or comment on this post if you have any questions!
Thank you for your time and input!

Mordekaiser has a great potential with his gameplay, but as we know Riot didn't execute it very well. He has big flaws and bad winrates in higher elos, while stomping the lower Elo.
I play him a lot, having 450k+ mastery points in Emerald elo (I know it's not that much), so I think I know what I'm saying. I personally play him with Unsealed Spellbook and it felt much better than the traditional Conqueror.
Still, im not a Riot Employee and i have no experience in balancing a game, so the numbers might be too high or too low.
Passive - Darkness Rise
Innate:

• On-hit magic damage: 40%AP >>> 30%AP

Active:

• Move Speed 3/6/9% [Based on Level] >>> (2%) (+2.5% AP)
• Zone Damage [ 5 flat (+ 30% AP) (+ 1% − 5% (based on level) of target's maximum health) magic damage every second ] >>> [ 0 flat (+ 40% AP) (+1% (+0.2% of Mordekaiser's maximum health) of target's maximum health) magic damage every second ]
• Item Effects Item Passives like Liandry's and Rylai's won't get activated by Darkness Rise.

The intention here is to make the passive damage scale better throughout the game, by removing the level scaling and making HP+AP items more useful on him. Removing the item effects looks like a big nerf, but the damage output with the scaling stats will be even better than Liandry. Adding to this, lower elo players won't abuse his passive with Rylai's even while missing his abilities (activating it by just hitting 3 autos). Making the Move Speed scale on bonus AP will make him faster when building more damage and slower when building tank items.

Q - Obliterate

• Base Damage 0 − 45 (based on level) (+ 80 / 120 / 150 / 170 / 200) (+ 70% AP) >>> (+80/125/150/185/220) (+ 75% AP)
• Isolation Damage Increase 35 / 40 / 50 / 55 / 60% >>> 20 / 30 / 40 / 50 / 65%
  • New Isolation Hit Effect The target gets slowed by (5 / 8 / 11 / 14 / 17% of the target MS) (+3% AP) starting to decay after 1 second in 3 seconds.

Adding a slow to his isolated Q will make it more rewarding for skilled players that can actually hit their abilities. It can be useful to catch someone that is trying to run away, and also adding another reason to not build Rylai's (Item variety is good).

W - Indestructible

• Cooldown 12 / 11 / 10 / 9 / 8 >>> 14 / 13 / 12 / 10 / 8
• Potential Shield 30% Maximum Health >>> 25% Maximum Health
  • New Effect While the shield is active, grant Mordekaiser (5) (+10% Bonus Armor) Armor, (5) (+8% Bonus Magic Resist) Magic Resist and (10%) (+1% Bonus Health) Tenacity.
• Early Recast Healing 35 / 37.5 / 40 / 42.5 / 45% of the current shield >>> 20 / 30 / 40 / 50 / 60% of the current shield

Mordekaiser's W is a pretty straightforward ability, granting him a big amount of shield when the Shield Bar is full. With this change, he will get a slightly smaller shield, while getting defensive stats and mainly Tenacity, making him fit his theme in a better way and by also giving him a chance to tank hard CC if timed correctly. Reducing his W heal at lower levels will nerf his early game sustain, compensating with the scaling stats.

E - Death's Grasp

• Cast time 0.25s >>> 0.30s (Time where you're unable to move and use other abilities)
  • New Effect Mordekaiser is unable to cast Obliterate (Q) for 0.2 seconds after Death's Grasp cast time
• Time before pulling 0.50s >>> 0.30s
• Damage 70 / 85 / 100 / 115 / 130 (+ 60% AP) >>> 40 / 60 / 75 / 85 / 100 (+ 30% AP)
• Hitbox size (width) 200 >>> 225

Death's Grasp problem is simple: it's too predictable, causing it to be too easy to dodge. Reducing the time before the ability actually pulls and boosting it's hitbox will make it more reliable. But you will be able to cast other abilities only when the pull is completed, like Darius with his E:
[Darius is unable to move or cast Decimate (Q) or Noxian Guillotine (R) for 0.4 seconds after Apprehend's (E) cast time] For comparison, Darius' E cast time is 0.25s; i think that having a much bigger grab like Death Grasp's also means a slighly longer cast time.
With this change, your E will be easier to hit but you wont be able to deal damage immediately. The enemy will probably get pulled, but it will have enough time to react and get prepared for incoming damage.
This ability primary function shouldn't be damage, so I lowered the base damage and ap ratio in exchange for a faster, more reliable ability.

R - Realm of Death

• Cooldown 140 / 120 / 100 >>> 160 / 135/ 110
• Temporary stats boost after killing the target in the shadow realm 10% of the target core stats >>> 5% of the target core stats
  • New Stacking Effect "Absorbed Souls" If Mordekaiser kills the target in the Realm of Death, he will gain 1% of the target's core stats permanently. This effect can be stacked.

His ultimate is a powerful 1v1 tool, but as right now, it just stops there. Killing the enemy in your realm grants Mordekaiser their stats until that enemy respawns, making it almost useless in laning phase but more useful in team fight. I wanted to balance the two, while making him scale better by introducing a stacking mechanic. I lowered the stats that he temporary gets when killing an enemy in his realm to compensate with the infinite stacking "Absorbed Souls" effect, making a fed Mordekaiser a dangerous treat, while also offering an option for a comeback in late game.

It could be cool that after 10 Stacks of "Absorbed Souls", he permanently keeps his Ultimate Form.

• Final thoughts -

My mini-rework is mainly focused on making Mordekaiser more of a late game scaling champ, giving him a rewarding gameplay but also a more challenging one in the early game. Without the Rylai, newer players will struggle to stick to their target and they will be forced to learn how to hit his abilities to be able to slow their target, without getting baited by the enemy movement. But im aware that the Win Rate in lower elos will probably still be higher than 50%. More mechanically advanced players will benefit a lot from this changes, probably making his Win Rate rise in higher elos.

I'm working on an implementation for a HR ops team and need to create a form that people within the business use to request updates to an employee profile in SAP. This needs to contain a bunch of questions about their department, cost centre, team, manager, title, schedule, etc. (think 20+ interrelated questions) The RP we've got is big and has a lot of complexity to make it somewhat user friendly - but it's still really cumbersome. Does anyone have any examples or ideas on how this can be approached?

In today’s globalized world, the importance of maintaining a clean legal record cannot be overstated. For expatriates and residents in Saudi Arabia, acquiring a Police Clearance Certificate (PCC) is often a crucial step for various legal and professional purposes. Whether you're applying for immigration, seeking employment, or completing academic requirements, a PCC serves as an official document proving that you are in good standing with the law. This article provides an in-depth look at the process of obtaining a Police Clearance Certificate in Saudi Arabia, the significance of this document, and how professional assistance from Helpline Group can streamline the process.
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Importance of a PCC in Saudi Arabia
Employment Opportunities
Many employers, especially in government and multinational sectors, require a PCC as part of the hiring process. This certificate ensures that the prospective employee has a clean legal background, which is crucial for positions of trust and responsibility.
Immigration and Travel
When applying for immigration to countries like Canada, Australia, or the United States, a PCC from Saudi Arabia is mandatory. It forms a critical part of the background verification process, ensuring that applicants have no criminal history that might pose a threat to the safety and security of the host country.
Academic Applications
Universities and educational institutions often require a PCC for admissions, particularly for courses that involve handling sensitive information or working with vulnerable populations. This ensures that the candidate has a reputable legal standing.
How to Obtain a PCC in Saudi Arabia
Eligibility Criteria
To apply for a PCC in Saudi Arabia, the applicant must have resided in the country for a significant period. Both current and former residents can apply, provided they have valid documentation proving their stay.
Required Documents
The documentation process for a PCC involves several steps. Applicants typically need to submit the following:
A completed application form
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Fingerprints (in some cases)
A letter stating the reason for the PCC application
Application Process
The process to obtain a PCC involves visiting the local police station or using online services provided by the Ministry of Interior. For expatriates who have left Saudi Arabia, the application can be processed through the Saudi Embassy in their home country or through authorized agencies.
The Role of PRO Services in Obtaining a PCC
What are PRO Services?
Public Relations Officer (PRO) services involve handling government-related documentation and procedures on behalf of clients. These services are invaluable in navigating the bureaucratic processes involved in obtaining a PCC.
Benefits of Using PRO Services
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Helpline Group: Your Trusted Partner for PCC in Saudi Arabia
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Services Offered
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Hey everyone!
Apologies if this post is not a perfect fit for this subreddit, but I could really use your help! I am conducting a study examining the impact of talent management and related practices on employees' perceptions of their future within their company. Among other things, I am looking at how talent management in Slovakia compares with the rest of the European Economic Area, so your participation is invaluable!
If you could spare 4-5 minutes to complete a quick survey, it would greatly aid my research and help me finish my Master's degree! Your responses are totally anonymous and secure, and the data will only be used in aggregate form.
If you're interested in helping me, here is the survey link: https://qualtricsxmyzqgqcvnn.qualtrics.com/jfe/form/SV_etZPf1k5V1M0PRA?Q_Language=EN
Please don't hesitate to contact me or comment on this post if you have any questions!
Thank you for your time and input!

Hey everyone!
Apologies if this post is not a perfect fit for this subreddit, but I could really use your help! I am conducting a study examining the impact of talent management and related practices on employees' perceptions of their future within their company. Among other things, I am looking at how talent management in Croatia compares with the rest of the European Economic Area, so your participation is invaluable!
If you could spare 4-5 minutes to complete a quick survey, it would greatly aid my research and help me finish my Master's degree! Your responses are totally anonymous and secure, and the data will only be used in aggregate form.
If you're interested in helping me, here is the survey link: https://qualtricsxmyzqgqcvnn.qualtrics.com/jfe/form/SV_etZPf1k5V1M0PRA?Q_Language=EN
Please don't hesitate to contact me or comment on this post if you have any questions!
Thank you for your time and input!

Hi, this is my first time posting on this app, so bear with me. This post will be going over the first (and last) time I worked in a dental office to receive shadowing experience.
From the beginning, I (20y/o) have known pretty much all my life that I wanted to be a doctor. It wasn’t until about my sophomore year in high school (the start of the pandemic) that I knew for sure I wanted to be a dentist. I just really liked the more hands-on approach to medicine, IDK. Anyway, I decided that was what I wanted to do, and was going to meet all the prerequisites necessary to apply for dental school. Currently, I attend Arizona State University, (it was all I could afford) and am studying for a Bachelor of Science in Biochemistry. I intend on graduating from here in the spring of '26, and, hopefully, I get accepted to one of the two in-state schools before then. I really don’t want to take a gap year and want to start practicing dentistry ASAP. So, I decided working in a dental office would be a great experience for me as meeting a certain amount of shadowing criteria is required.
Back in the second semester of my freshman year in college, I emailed about 10 dental offices in the Tempe area. I messaged the email attached to their website(s), explaining who I was, what I was studying, and that I wanted to be a dentist. None of them responded, and I was starting to lose hope. Except for one. The office manager who was in charge of emails responded to me about forwarding her my availability with school, and when was the best time to come in for an interview. I was super stoked about the opportunity and jumped on it as fast as I could.
About a couple of days later, we did an over-the-phone interview, which was just getting to know me and my situation a little bit more. And, if she liked me, we would move forward with the employment process. We ended up scheduling an in-person interview a couple of days later, where I met the dentist(s) (one was the head dentist, and the other was an associate, I believe. This was a corporate office, so they both very well could have been associate dentists, IDK). I’ve worked several jobs in the past, so I was always pretty strong when it came to interviews. Long story short, the dentist(s), hygienists, and dental assistants all liked me, so we moved forward with the employment process. Everything was smooth sailing until it wasn’t.
I didn’t start working until about a month later, as the office manager I had spoken with beforehand said that one of the HR employees responsible for my employment was “on vacation” (this could have been true, but I guess we’ll never know). Then, she (the office manager) ended up getting sick, so my employment was delayed for some time. Anyway, I started working and loved every bit of it. The role I was granted was a sterilization technician, which was fine by me, considering I had absolutely no certification to do x-rays, dental assisting, or anything else dental-related. My job was literally just to set up and break down the rooms, and clean the instruments required for the dental procedures. The job was really easy, and there were many instances where I even finished my work early. When I wasn’t working, I was allowed to shadow 1 of the 2 dentists working in the office, and I even got some chair-side experience alongside them. However, things took a turn for the worse.
Basically, the person training me was the office manager. She seemed really sweet and cool at first, but she became extremely toxic to work with very quickly. I don’t know what could have set her off, but I am extremely nice and respectful to literally everyone I meet. She was responsible for training me and would set unrealistic expectations for me to meet in an unreasonable amount of time. She was also very passive-aggressive to me for little to no reason at all, and would call me names, and would even treat me as if she was on a pedestal, and she was better than me in every way shape, and form.
With that being said, one of the first goals she set for me (keep in mind, this was literally my 4th shift working there) was to break down the rooms (and sanitize them) after the procedures in 2 minutes or less. The next goal she set for me was to set up the rooms for procedures in 5 minutes or less. I didn’t know if I could accomplish these goals yet, and if they were even reasonably achievable for someone like me or not, (considering I had 0 years of experience and she had 4) as I didn’t know how long it would even take me to break down or set up a room yet (at this point I wasn’t trained on any of this, lol). One red flag that she said that I didn’t think anything of at the time was (and I quote), "If you don't meet these goals in the next two weeks or less, we're going to have to evaluate if this is going to work out". I don't know how this flew straight over my head, and why the hell I didn't start looking for a new job ASAP, but then again, I had worked several jobs in the past, and ALL of my bosses and co-workers loved me. I am still friends with some of them to this day. I have had to quit jobs in the past but was never fired. All the jobs I had ever worked ended on good terms.
As the weeks went on, I was improving. I was getting quicker with setting up and breaking down the rooms, and sanitizing them to their entirety. I was more focused on making sure everything was thoroughly sanitized (I mean, this is a doctor's office, right?). Long story short, I did not meet her expectations and time goal. As time went on, they didn't fire me, so I thought I was in the clear. Mind you, I was dorming for my freshman year and did not have a car. Despite this, I made sure to always show up to work 15 minutes early (at the minimum). I would walk 2.5 miles to work the mornings I was scheduled and really did not want to mess up the opportunity they had given me.
Later on that month (I worked this job for exactly 1 month and 7 days), I kept getting messages from the office manager. She was cutting my hours, telling me that they weren't as busy on certain days I was scheduled and therefore did not need to come in. I thought she was being nice and giving me the day off, but yet again, this was another red flag that I was completely oblivious to. She was cutting my hours very low. To sum it up, I was working on Friday, closing up the office. The lead dentist came up to me before he left, and he told me how much of a good job I was doing, and how proud he was of me for my improvements. This made me feel really good, as the office manager I was working with this entire time never said anything nice about me, nor did she send any positive affirmations my way.
Over the weekend, I thought nothing of it. I believed I was going to be working in this office for some time based on the lead dentist's expression that Friday close. I came in for my morning shift on Monday, and everything changed. As I came into work, I just had this gut feeling that something was off. I made my way to the office to greet everyone that morning. I said, "Good morning", and they (both dentists, the office manager, hygienists, and assistants) didn't say a word back to me. They didn't even acknowledge my presence. As I was working my shift, towards the end, the office manager came up to me as I was in the middle of cleaning up a room post-op for an implant procedure. She said that she needed to talk to me in the office with the lead dentist. I was respectful, and followed after her, closing the door and taking a seat on my way in.
They both seemed pretty serious, and I thought to myself, "Am I about to get fired"? Basically, the office manager had the lead dentist (the same dentist who complimented my work ethic the Friday before) fire me. They reasoned that I, "did not improve in ample time to meet the office's expectations". I was honestly starstruck and didn't know what to say. The whole ordeal lasted maybe 5 minutes at the most, and the office manager sat there quietly the entire time. Then, she had the audacity to say, "Okay, do you have any more questions for me and Dr. _____?". Like bruh. I thought I was doing good, lol, then they just fired me? OK. I didn't say anything, other than, "I'm sorry that I let you guys down", and "Thank you for the opportunity at hand, I know you guys truly believed in me". Then, they were super rude to me, and were like, "Yeah, (after I had said thank you and everything) you can grab your things and leave now". I usually listened to music on my 2.5 mi commute back to my dorm, but this time, I walked back in silence, in the Arizona heat, in my all-black scrubs.
I still want to be a dentist. Although I felt like a total failure being fired from something I loved doing, I wasn't going to let that stop me. Today, I continue to shadow several dentists in my area, building strong relations with them as time goes on. I currently work as a certified personal trainer for a private gym, as I am very passionate about diet and exercise, and it has also exponentially increased my communication skills from before I started training gym clients. I plan to take the DAT this spring, and although my GPA is kind of low, (between a 3.0 and a 3.5 but definitely on the lower end of the spectrum) I know that I still have another year before I start applying to schools in the summer of '25, which'll give me enough time to bring that number up a bit. I firmly believe that my DAT score, personal statement, and ECs/LORs will be a great equalizer for me considering my admission process.
Let me know what you guys think of this story, lol. This is my first post on Redditt ever, so I apologize if it was too long.