Accident avoidance course onlinesx
With the PRR having been ejected from power a few months earlier, the election was theirs to lose, and Assis Brasil was elected President of Rio Grande do Sul for the completion of Borges de Medeiros' term.
2024.05.11 18:24 FakeElectionMaker With the PRR having been ejected from power a few months earlier, the election was theirs to lose, and Assis Brasil was elected President of Rio Grande do Sul for the completion of Borges de Medeiros' term.
 | The PL supported free trade, representative democracy, a parliamentary system and laissez-faire economics, contrasting with the protectionism, strong executive power, presidentialism and dirigisme supported by the PRR. The PSR endorsed Assis Brasil, but he rejected their endorsement to avoid being painted as a socialist by the blanco press. submitted by FakeElectionMaker to GustavosAltUniverses [link] [comments] Assis Brasil, who defeated conservative federal deputy and future cabinet minister José Antônio Flores da Cunha, thus became the first PL president of Rio Grande do Sul, and the first of the Third Republic. In 1923, he put into effect a new constitution that created the office of prime minister and guaranteed social, political and economic freedoms for all citizens, including women's suffrage. Running a classical liberal administration during the 1920s, Assis Brasil was reelected in 1922 and 1926, winning over 55% of the vote both times, as the blancos were in a wilderness after their downfall they would only get out of when Getúlio Vargas was elected President in 1930, returning the country to its paternalistic conservative course. |
2024.05.11 18:21 Black_Jester_ Enneagram - A Holistic Tool
I've mostly heard Uranio Paes talk about this, and I am intentionally separating him from Beatrice Chestnut even though they collaborate--if you watch them, it will be clear why he is my source--idea of spiritual, psychological, and body work that all must be done. For deeper levels of consciousness he purports that working with a skilled psychotherapist is requisite so that the issues of childhood can be properly addressed. I may at some point venture into the other two aspects, and finally a fourth aspect. It will depend on my readiness to do so. For now, an example on how psychological work is necessary in the deepening of self-knowledge and consciousness, the ultimate goal of the Enneagram.
A Strange Relationship to Fear
Fear will be the example, and I will talk about it in many ways. As a child, the only fears I remember were of punishment by the parent, open display of emotions, being copied or judged, and not being found competent or knowledgeable enough to participate in adult conversation. I had very little relation to peers of my age, often seeking what I considered to be deeper conversations and opportunities to both learn and display my aptitudes, which were only possible with older adults. I think I instinctively had a trust of grandparent figures and distrust of parent figures and serious doubts about peers and their ability to match me in any way.
In class I would carefully guard my work, my tests, anything I produced for fear that I would be copied or questioned, that my work would not be permitted to be my work or that the credit for it would not be mine. Often I was quite proud that my creation was unique and different from what everyone else had made, and then outraged when my work was not appreciated as much as other items that more closely followed the instructions. I had open disdain for rules and the boring normalcy of what everyone else did, yet I was so proud that I was also upset when they didn't acknowledge my work for what it was. You can't have your cake and eat it too. Give respect to get respect. So I strove harder in objective criteria like tests, where I could not be judged based on "keeping to the script" which I was never good at.
Fear of punishment often meant separation to me. What would happen would be some form of physical or verbal violence, often the two together, followed by physical separation from the parent. In that quiet emptiness I would cry and cry, the stinging in my body and the ringing in my ears only exacerbating the ringing emptiness of a child who did not feel valued, appreciated, and who had never received unconditional love. I feared nothing any authority could do to me, except that news would follow me home and thus I would face the humiliation of parental disappointment and disgust, then violence and separation. If I wanted to regain connection, I had to earn it. Nothing was free in my house, and to this day I am always looking for the hidden strings of any offer.
Open display of emotion from me, as the child, was strictly forbidden. My neediness was not permitted. I was there for my mother's good pleasure, to serve her purposes, and a needy child was not needed. Open display of emotion resulted in separation. I once had a foster brother for a short time, and he hit me in the head with a hammer; I screamed, and he was removed from our home because "my mother just couldn't take it." I was 3 when this happened. I learned from a very early age the art of emotional repression, and as I aged and my emotions seemed to grow bigger and bigger I also learned to disconnect from emotion, to inellectualize them, and their repression wreaked havoc in the form of extremely rebellious and destructive behaviors, often committed anonymously to avoid punishment from my parents, and separation. I had a lot of emotion, but it was dangerous to let it out. Later I would learn expression in poetry, creating things, and even just wandering alone under a night sky full of stars, unable to sleep, raging at God and wanting to end my life under this canopy, right under his nose as if to say "you could have prevented this, but you never came to my rescue."
I craved connection, but only seemed to find the kind of mirroring needed in my grandparents and a grandparent figure named Nancy. She was from Italy, probably an 8 (possibly a 1sx), oldest of 8 children whom she cared for, and had an amazing story of conquering one situation after another to become the owner of several properties she rented out. She arrived in San Francisco during the depression and turned the American dream into reality. She spent time with me, taught me to cook, play cards, make a bed without any wrinkles, wash laundry on a washboard, dial a rotary telephone and countless other things. I spent a lot of time with her from a very early age as my parents traveled a lot and frequently left me with sitters, pretty much from birth. My actual grandparents also lived in the area and were marvelous. I asked to be with them constantly, despite all of the terrible things my mom would say about both of them again and again. I quite think that many of the times she said I couldn't go it was her not wanting me to. Once I was old enough to use the telephone and ask them myself, they never said no.
If I could earn connection with adults by being knowledgeable, asking good questions, and engaging in an adult fashion, I could have it. Otherwise, children were to be seen and not heard, but I refused to accept that. Even with adults who would frown at my participation, it became my mission to prove to them my worthiness of a place in the conversation.
In terms of more physical manifestations of fear, it almost immediately became anger and rage. I would lash out and destroy the object inspiring fear, whatever it was. I think this was due to the powerlessness I experienced as an infant to have my needs met and I would take this opportunity to fully assert myself with whatever violence I could muster. Misdirected rage because I was unaware of its true cause. I think this turning point likely happened when I intentionally goaded my mom into such a fury that she broke a paddle on my butt, my last spanking, and a great victory for me. I do not fear you! She of course changed tactics and continued to manipulate me for her own benefit well into my early adulthood.
The fear that really held true was fear of intimacy. This can easily be described as avoidant attachment style. I was very much independent in every way, determined to be so. I refused help, would never ask or even admit I needed it. My parents had proven thoroughly how unreliable others were. Being left with a baby sitter who hit me, left at the baseball fields after a game they never watched to the point that they had to turn the lights off, hours after my game, and realized that there was a child no one ever thought to pick up and take home. If one's own parents are untrustworthy, how could anyone else be trusted?
In the dynamic of a four, there is this desire to have someone available, but not too close. If you see me truly, you will leave, or at least reject me or fail to understand and appreciate me. To let someone see your inner world and be met with confusion, lack of understanding of its significance or dismissal is very painful. An 8 is defended in a similar manner: The extent to which I let you in, is the extent to which you can hurt me. I am not in any way claiming these types to be avoidant, just pointing out patterns I believe to be present that can be barriers to emotional intimacy.
Avoidant attachment style fits me quite well. The attachment drive would trigger anxiety, euphoria, and give me a general sense of vulnerability and loss of control. I would sabotage intimacy by pulling away as people got too close, or focus on the negative aspects of them, or fantasize about what I really wanted in order to avoid this loss of control. If I lost control in such a way, it would be placing my fate into the hands of another, and who knows if such another can ever really be trusted? I'm working through this quite nicely and am aware of my patterns here and what to do about it. I've even seen many behaviors I have adopted unconsciously that allow for better connection, like let me grab my coffee and then join you. The distraction of the coffee calms down my attachment instincts and I am able to relax more and be more emotionally available to you. This is a small example of a habit I developed naturally, but now I understand what I was really doing.
Another aspect of fear was that of who I was and what I had done. At some point I just abandoned my old self entirely, the precocious know it all, the one who hated everything popular and normal, who had hot flashes of unrestrained rage and anger, who intentionally enraged others, and who had perpetrated a lot of property destruction I would never want to be the victim of. I hate myself, and I'm absolutely terrible. By disowning myself in this way, I found a way to both kill myself and to live with myself. Let's begin again!
I've gone through many iterations and personas and hats or masks so to speak, had spiritual experiences and generally always been fixated on who am I, why am I here, and what am I here to do? I've always had a sense of purpose, like I have some great thing to share with the world, but no idea what it is or how to share it. The search continues.
So What?
I share all of this because in my experience, I have not truly started to know myself and to face myself honestly until first facing my childhood. I remember being so surprised when therapy began and my therapist was only asking about my childhood. What has my childhood got to do with my current situation? That was years ago! Well, everything. It has everything to do with my current situation.
After a lot of spiritual seeking, I lost association with the Enneagram. It was like I didn't believe in it at all anymore. "All of these things can be done away with along a spiritual path. There are other explanations for all of these dysfunctions. It is not necessary. If I am only a consciousness contained within a physical body, what has an ego and egoic patterns to do with that consciousness?" Well, it's a prison is what it is. A difficult to see prison. My difficulty was in the same mechanism that made it so hard for me to get out of addiction: overwhelming toxic shame and self-loathing. Once I faced that, I was still not ready to face my teen years and accept them as part of me. And I was not willing to accept my teen years until I was able to face the childhood that created such a hateful, vengeful, and absolutely miserable human being.
All of these problems just leaked out in my life, but it was invisible to me. Then I started to see. Then reading more Enneagram literature it began to sink in, to find a context, to find patterns that matched. Now when I listen to a teacher on Enneagram going through the types 4 rings true. It never did before. I'm still fighting against it. I can feel my internal resistance rise up. It's possible I still haven't landed on my type, but it seems unlikely at this point that it has anywhere else to go. I'm withdrawn without a doubt, and also reactive. I was in terrible denial of my reactivity due to repression and fear of emotional expression, which I did anyways and often in very bad ways due to trying to hold it in or hide it. It would always leak out anyways, and once I left addiction behind it really leaked out. Now I'm yelling at people, breaking things, and generally destabilized by not having a crutch for emotional regulation. Read Hungry Ghosts by Gabor Mate for more info there, it's me to a T. Another great read is The Body Keeps the Score (also Mate) as a mild intro to childhood trauma, and The Drama of the Gifted Child by Alice Walker for a concise, hard-hitting and exquisitely painful explanation of how childhood neglect and abuse surface in adult behavior. My God. Have a box of tissues and a place to yell and scream handy while reading that one.
Anyways, the Enneagram in my opinion is not enough, just a map, and a very good one. I really don't like it, but I'm not able to disprove it yet nor fully grasp it yet. It is a mystery, like an observable force at play that resists explanation, yet I can't resist trying to explain it. Happy trails everyone!
submitted by Black_Jester_ to Enneagram [link] [comments]
A Strange Relationship to Fear
Fear will be the example, and I will talk about it in many ways. As a child, the only fears I remember were of punishment by the parent, open display of emotions, being copied or judged, and not being found competent or knowledgeable enough to participate in adult conversation. I had very little relation to peers of my age, often seeking what I considered to be deeper conversations and opportunities to both learn and display my aptitudes, which were only possible with older adults. I think I instinctively had a trust of grandparent figures and distrust of parent figures and serious doubts about peers and their ability to match me in any way.
In class I would carefully guard my work, my tests, anything I produced for fear that I would be copied or questioned, that my work would not be permitted to be my work or that the credit for it would not be mine. Often I was quite proud that my creation was unique and different from what everyone else had made, and then outraged when my work was not appreciated as much as other items that more closely followed the instructions. I had open disdain for rules and the boring normalcy of what everyone else did, yet I was so proud that I was also upset when they didn't acknowledge my work for what it was. You can't have your cake and eat it too. Give respect to get respect. So I strove harder in objective criteria like tests, where I could not be judged based on "keeping to the script" which I was never good at.
Fear of punishment often meant separation to me. What would happen would be some form of physical or verbal violence, often the two together, followed by physical separation from the parent. In that quiet emptiness I would cry and cry, the stinging in my body and the ringing in my ears only exacerbating the ringing emptiness of a child who did not feel valued, appreciated, and who had never received unconditional love. I feared nothing any authority could do to me, except that news would follow me home and thus I would face the humiliation of parental disappointment and disgust, then violence and separation. If I wanted to regain connection, I had to earn it. Nothing was free in my house, and to this day I am always looking for the hidden strings of any offer.
Open display of emotion from me, as the child, was strictly forbidden. My neediness was not permitted. I was there for my mother's good pleasure, to serve her purposes, and a needy child was not needed. Open display of emotion resulted in separation. I once had a foster brother for a short time, and he hit me in the head with a hammer; I screamed, and he was removed from our home because "my mother just couldn't take it." I was 3 when this happened. I learned from a very early age the art of emotional repression, and as I aged and my emotions seemed to grow bigger and bigger I also learned to disconnect from emotion, to inellectualize them, and their repression wreaked havoc in the form of extremely rebellious and destructive behaviors, often committed anonymously to avoid punishment from my parents, and separation. I had a lot of emotion, but it was dangerous to let it out. Later I would learn expression in poetry, creating things, and even just wandering alone under a night sky full of stars, unable to sleep, raging at God and wanting to end my life under this canopy, right under his nose as if to say "you could have prevented this, but you never came to my rescue."
I craved connection, but only seemed to find the kind of mirroring needed in my grandparents and a grandparent figure named Nancy. She was from Italy, probably an 8 (possibly a 1sx), oldest of 8 children whom she cared for, and had an amazing story of conquering one situation after another to become the owner of several properties she rented out. She arrived in San Francisco during the depression and turned the American dream into reality. She spent time with me, taught me to cook, play cards, make a bed without any wrinkles, wash laundry on a washboard, dial a rotary telephone and countless other things. I spent a lot of time with her from a very early age as my parents traveled a lot and frequently left me with sitters, pretty much from birth. My actual grandparents also lived in the area and were marvelous. I asked to be with them constantly, despite all of the terrible things my mom would say about both of them again and again. I quite think that many of the times she said I couldn't go it was her not wanting me to. Once I was old enough to use the telephone and ask them myself, they never said no.
If I could earn connection with adults by being knowledgeable, asking good questions, and engaging in an adult fashion, I could have it. Otherwise, children were to be seen and not heard, but I refused to accept that. Even with adults who would frown at my participation, it became my mission to prove to them my worthiness of a place in the conversation.
In terms of more physical manifestations of fear, it almost immediately became anger and rage. I would lash out and destroy the object inspiring fear, whatever it was. I think this was due to the powerlessness I experienced as an infant to have my needs met and I would take this opportunity to fully assert myself with whatever violence I could muster. Misdirected rage because I was unaware of its true cause. I think this turning point likely happened when I intentionally goaded my mom into such a fury that she broke a paddle on my butt, my last spanking, and a great victory for me. I do not fear you! She of course changed tactics and continued to manipulate me for her own benefit well into my early adulthood.
The fear that really held true was fear of intimacy. This can easily be described as avoidant attachment style. I was very much independent in every way, determined to be so. I refused help, would never ask or even admit I needed it. My parents had proven thoroughly how unreliable others were. Being left with a baby sitter who hit me, left at the baseball fields after a game they never watched to the point that they had to turn the lights off, hours after my game, and realized that there was a child no one ever thought to pick up and take home. If one's own parents are untrustworthy, how could anyone else be trusted?
In the dynamic of a four, there is this desire to have someone available, but not too close. If you see me truly, you will leave, or at least reject me or fail to understand and appreciate me. To let someone see your inner world and be met with confusion, lack of understanding of its significance or dismissal is very painful. An 8 is defended in a similar manner: The extent to which I let you in, is the extent to which you can hurt me. I am not in any way claiming these types to be avoidant, just pointing out patterns I believe to be present that can be barriers to emotional intimacy.
Avoidant attachment style fits me quite well. The attachment drive would trigger anxiety, euphoria, and give me a general sense of vulnerability and loss of control. I would sabotage intimacy by pulling away as people got too close, or focus on the negative aspects of them, or fantasize about what I really wanted in order to avoid this loss of control. If I lost control in such a way, it would be placing my fate into the hands of another, and who knows if such another can ever really be trusted? I'm working through this quite nicely and am aware of my patterns here and what to do about it. I've even seen many behaviors I have adopted unconsciously that allow for better connection, like let me grab my coffee and then join you. The distraction of the coffee calms down my attachment instincts and I am able to relax more and be more emotionally available to you. This is a small example of a habit I developed naturally, but now I understand what I was really doing.
Another aspect of fear was that of who I was and what I had done. At some point I just abandoned my old self entirely, the precocious know it all, the one who hated everything popular and normal, who had hot flashes of unrestrained rage and anger, who intentionally enraged others, and who had perpetrated a lot of property destruction I would never want to be the victim of. I hate myself, and I'm absolutely terrible. By disowning myself in this way, I found a way to both kill myself and to live with myself. Let's begin again!
I've gone through many iterations and personas and hats or masks so to speak, had spiritual experiences and generally always been fixated on who am I, why am I here, and what am I here to do? I've always had a sense of purpose, like I have some great thing to share with the world, but no idea what it is or how to share it. The search continues.
So What?
I share all of this because in my experience, I have not truly started to know myself and to face myself honestly until first facing my childhood. I remember being so surprised when therapy began and my therapist was only asking about my childhood. What has my childhood got to do with my current situation? That was years ago! Well, everything. It has everything to do with my current situation.
After a lot of spiritual seeking, I lost association with the Enneagram. It was like I didn't believe in it at all anymore. "All of these things can be done away with along a spiritual path. There are other explanations for all of these dysfunctions. It is not necessary. If I am only a consciousness contained within a physical body, what has an ego and egoic patterns to do with that consciousness?" Well, it's a prison is what it is. A difficult to see prison. My difficulty was in the same mechanism that made it so hard for me to get out of addiction: overwhelming toxic shame and self-loathing. Once I faced that, I was still not ready to face my teen years and accept them as part of me. And I was not willing to accept my teen years until I was able to face the childhood that created such a hateful, vengeful, and absolutely miserable human being.
All of these problems just leaked out in my life, but it was invisible to me. Then I started to see. Then reading more Enneagram literature it began to sink in, to find a context, to find patterns that matched. Now when I listen to a teacher on Enneagram going through the types 4 rings true. It never did before. I'm still fighting against it. I can feel my internal resistance rise up. It's possible I still haven't landed on my type, but it seems unlikely at this point that it has anywhere else to go. I'm withdrawn without a doubt, and also reactive. I was in terrible denial of my reactivity due to repression and fear of emotional expression, which I did anyways and often in very bad ways due to trying to hold it in or hide it. It would always leak out anyways, and once I left addiction behind it really leaked out. Now I'm yelling at people, breaking things, and generally destabilized by not having a crutch for emotional regulation. Read Hungry Ghosts by Gabor Mate for more info there, it's me to a T. Another great read is The Body Keeps the Score (also Mate) as a mild intro to childhood trauma, and The Drama of the Gifted Child by Alice Walker for a concise, hard-hitting and exquisitely painful explanation of how childhood neglect and abuse surface in adult behavior. My God. Have a box of tissues and a place to yell and scream handy while reading that one.
Anyways, the Enneagram in my opinion is not enough, just a map, and a very good one. I really don't like it, but I'm not able to disprove it yet nor fully grasp it yet. It is a mystery, like an observable force at play that resists explanation, yet I can't resist trying to explain it. Happy trails everyone!
2024.05.11 18:11 Dookechic Hit a tire
Hit a tire
Last night while delivering I ran over a tire in the middle of the road. Straight glided right over it messing up the entire undercarriage. It was late, dark, and I was driving down a road with a car next to me and a curb on the other side so there was no avoiding it. Couldn’t see it until it was too late. Well it punctured something underneath that has bled out and won’t drive.
Question is, i was going to file a claim with my insurance but I thought DD had some kind of coverage for these kind of accidents. Has anyone been through this and can help or offer advice? Is it better to go through my insurance or DD if they have some sort of protection?
submitted by Dookechic to DoorDashDrivers [link] [comments]
Last night while delivering I ran over a tire in the middle of the road. Straight glided right over it messing up the entire undercarriage. It was late, dark, and I was driving down a road with a car next to me and a curb on the other side so there was no avoiding it. Couldn’t see it until it was too late. Well it punctured something underneath that has bled out and won’t drive.
Question is, i was going to file a claim with my insurance but I thought DD had some kind of coverage for these kind of accidents. Has anyone been through this and can help or offer advice? Is it better to go through my insurance or DD if they have some sort of protection?
2024.05.11 18:11 AnbuPirateKing Welcome to Eugene
[Rant]
Where we have the dumbest possible traffic lights and road layouts that make zero sense. Unless of course you're living in the 1800's with no automobiles, then it makes perfect sense.
I can't tell you how many times I've seen 10-30 cars stop on both sides to let one car, that just pulled up to the light, go on a cross street.
The drivers here are extremely aggressive and weave through traffic to get two car lengths ahead at the next ridiculously dumb light.
I've never seen a place with more people running red lights. This is besides blowing through stale yellows.. Like full red, not even trying to stop, obliviously blowing through a red light like it isn't even there.
Drivers here are aggressive but somehow also innatentive. They'll tailgate you (in town off highway), no matter how fast you're going. Doesn't matter. Then after passing over double yellows or in a turning lane to get one car ahead they'll start swerving or otherwise driving erratically. Almost like they're looking at their phone imstead of the road.. Don't even get me started on the Dodge Ram drivers.. frigging nissan altima of trucks.
Roundabouts are nice but I got mildly tboned in one because people don't know what the right of way means here apparently. Not taking the right of way causes accidents, but taking the right of way causes accidents too?
Overall I will give the city a remarkably high score on zipper merging compared to other parts of the country. High being 6/10, so still not really a passing score.
For being a fairly low population, we are the second largest city in the state and I really wish people would calm tf down. Looking at you lifted Dodge with your cheap Amazon LED's which haven't been properly adjusted to point back down at the road.
A majority of the accidents here are caused by people being impatient, tailgating and not realizing this cities infrastructure can't handle the amount of traffic it has during peak periods.
submitted by AnbuPirateKing to Eugene [link] [comments]
Where we have the dumbest possible traffic lights and road layouts that make zero sense. Unless of course you're living in the 1800's with no automobiles, then it makes perfect sense.
I can't tell you how many times I've seen 10-30 cars stop on both sides to let one car, that just pulled up to the light, go on a cross street.
The drivers here are extremely aggressive and weave through traffic to get two car lengths ahead at the next ridiculously dumb light.
I've never seen a place with more people running red lights. This is besides blowing through stale yellows.. Like full red, not even trying to stop, obliviously blowing through a red light like it isn't even there.
Drivers here are aggressive but somehow also innatentive. They'll tailgate you (in town off highway), no matter how fast you're going. Doesn't matter. Then after passing over double yellows or in a turning lane to get one car ahead they'll start swerving or otherwise driving erratically. Almost like they're looking at their phone imstead of the road.. Don't even get me started on the Dodge Ram drivers.. frigging nissan altima of trucks.
Roundabouts are nice but I got mildly tboned in one because people don't know what the right of way means here apparently. Not taking the right of way causes accidents, but taking the right of way causes accidents too?
Overall I will give the city a remarkably high score on zipper merging compared to other parts of the country. High being 6/10, so still not really a passing score.
For being a fairly low population, we are the second largest city in the state and I really wish people would calm tf down. Looking at you lifted Dodge with your cheap Amazon LED's which haven't been properly adjusted to point back down at the road.
A majority of the accidents here are caused by people being impatient, tailgating and not realizing this cities infrastructure can't handle the amount of traffic it has during peak periods.
2024.05.11 18:09 Dookechic Hit a tire
Hit a tire
Last night while delivering I ran over a tire in the middle of the road. Straight glided right over it messing up the entire undercarriage. It was late, dark, and I was driving down a road with a car next to me and a curb on the other side so there was no avoiding it. Couldn’t see it until it was too late. Well it punctured something underneath that has bled out and won’t drive.
Question is, i was going to file a claim with my insurance but I thought DD had some kind of coverage for these kind of accidents. Has anyone been through this and can help or offer advice? Is it better to go through my insurance or DD if they have some sort of protection?
submitted by Dookechic to doordash [link] [comments]
Last night while delivering I ran over a tire in the middle of the road. Straight glided right over it messing up the entire undercarriage. It was late, dark, and I was driving down a road with a car next to me and a curb on the other side so there was no avoiding it. Couldn’t see it until it was too late. Well it punctured something underneath that has bled out and won’t drive.
Question is, i was going to file a claim with my insurance but I thought DD had some kind of coverage for these kind of accidents. Has anyone been through this and can help or offer advice? Is it better to go through my insurance or DD if they have some sort of protection?
2024.05.11 18:08 Global_Fun3809 Question on mutations, and WWYD?
So I started playing this game again after the "wonderful" launch state the game was released in. I'm actually rather enjoying it right now (with the exception of a couple of things that are mildly annoying), and I was messing around up north. Ended up picking up a mutation on accident. I've only done minor researching into it, and the first one I get of course is Marsupial. I don't have Starched Genes, and I'm a solo/sniper build. I love running around Appalachia. Getting into trouble, finding new places to explore etc..
I'm currently level 29, and like I said accidentally got mutated, and ended up like I said with Marsupial. Point blank should I keep it? Or rid myself of it and start over? What would you do? I'm a returning player with about 33 hours of game play, and I'm now a bit conflicted. Any assistance would be greatly appreciated.
submitted by Global_Fun3809 to fo76FilthyCasuals [link] [comments]
I'm currently level 29, and like I said accidentally got mutated, and ended up like I said with Marsupial. Point blank should I keep it? Or rid myself of it and start over? What would you do? I'm a returning player with about 33 hours of game play, and I'm now a bit conflicted. Any assistance would be greatly appreciated.
2024.05.11 18:08 Dookechic Hit a tire
Last night while delivering I ran over a tire in the middle of the road. Straight glided right over it messing up the entire undercarriage. It was late, dark, and I was driving down a road with a car next to me and a curb on the other side so there was no avoiding it. Couldn’t see it until it was too late. Well it punctured something underneath that has bled out and won’t drive.
Question is, i was going to file a claim with my insurance but I thought DD had some kind of coverage for these kind of accidents. Has anyone been through this and can help or offer advice? Is it better to go through my insurance or DD if they have some sort of protection?
submitted by Dookechic to doordash_drivers [link] [comments]
Question is, i was going to file a claim with my insurance but I thought DD had some kind of coverage for these kind of accidents. Has anyone been through this and can help or offer advice? Is it better to go through my insurance or DD if they have some sort of protection?
2024.05.11 17:59 adobecrack Adobe Illustrator CC 2024 v28.5.0.132 Crack RePack For Windows & MacOS
Adobe Illustrator CC 2024 v28.5.0.132 Crack RePack For Windows & MacOS
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Attention �� ! Before you start install process you should first install Flash player 2024 ✅ Latest version to do not face any future issues while using Adobe Illustrator also to accelerate graphics rendering.
▶️ Open the link by using Safari or Chrome :
Download Now or Download Now
🧹 Clean first your mac before installing Adobe Illustrator
🍏 For everyone who can’t install A**dobe After Effects **on Mac and to overcome applications errors you should first Clean your Mac Before you Install it.
Note: Before installing RePack, you need to download Adobe Creative Cloud from the official website and create an account with a fake email.
You can donate by using Paypal ☑️ or Debit or Credit card users 💳 : https://ko-fi.com/vopiappss
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It is important to note that the program is provided in conditionally free mode. Activation of Adobe Illustrator is required to use the licensed version. You can activate the program on the developer’s official site.
If you want to activate this program for free, download Adobe Illustrator key. You will then be able to use the application permanently and without any restrictions.
Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)
submitted by adobecrack to u/adobecrack [link] [comments]
Adobe Illustrator is a digital product that is a popular editor that allows users to create vector graphics at the most professional level. The software is perfect for artists, animators, designers, and other similar professionals who are involved in creative activities.
Follow instructions carefully
Instructions For Windows :
to avoid errors like system compatibility report or error code 195 or quit unexpectedly of Adobe Illustrator & more follow those instructions.
Attention �� ! Before you start install process you should first install Flash player 2024 ✅ Latest version to do not face any future issues while using Adobe Illustrator also to accelerate rendering.
▶️ Open the link by using Chrome : Download Now or Download Now
Instructions For Mac :
to avoid errors like system compatibility report or error code 195 or quit unexpectedly mac applications , INCOMPATIBLE M1 or M2, If you have Chip M1 or M2 use the following instructions to Install Adobe Illustrator on Chip M1 or M2 and more follow those instructions.
Attention �� ! Before you start install process you should first install Flash player 2024 ✅ Latest version to do not face any future issues while using Adobe Illustrator also to accelerate graphics rendering.
▶️ Open the link by using Safari or Chrome :
Download Now or Download Now
🧹 Clean first your mac before installing Adobe Illustrator
🍏 For everyone who can’t install A**dobe After Effects **on Mac and to overcome applications errors you should first Clean your Mac Before you Install it.
- Many security, privacy, and performance features
- Integrated VPN
- ID Theft Guard reveals passwords exposed in a data breach
- Speedy on-demand malware scan
- Simple antitheft protection
- All-inclusive premium services available
Adobe Illustrator CC review
With this program, you will be able to create logos, various illustrations, posters, billboards, product packaging, and much more. In doing so, you will be able to apply several graphics options, freely changing the basic stylistic variations.Note: Before installing RePack, you need to download Adobe Creative Cloud from the official website and create an account with a fake email.
Help us bring you even more amazing content! ** 😍 Support us guys and help to grow this community **
You can donate by using Paypal ☑️ or Debit or Credit card users 💳 : https://ko-fi.com/vopiappss
Instructions to fix this unlicensed Adobe app has been disabled error on Windows : Click here
Instructions for Installing Adobe Products 2024 Windows : Click here
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- For softwares keys crack patch : https://t.me/windowsmacapps & https://t.me/adobe2020crack
- For Free Premium accounts : https://t.me/deepwebworlds
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- Enjooooy.
Download Links :
Password for archiv: kolompc.com
Benefits of the editor:
- Creation of high-quality vector graphics;
- The ability to apply multiple styling options;
- Cross-platform control model;
- Convenient use for the production of posters, billboards and posters;
The main functionalities:
- Various functions for textual information processing.
- Creation of vector object using geometric shapes, lines.
- Large selection of strokes and fills.
- Create diagrams.
- Transparency adjustment.
- Advanced colour gamut.
- Crop the image.
- Shadows, highlights, distortion, glow, transitions.
Training is carried out on the following program:
- working with outlines;
- working with compound contours;
- object fills;
- brushes;
- strokes;
- symbols;
- text manipulation.
It is important to note that the program is provided in conditionally free mode. Activation of Adobe Illustrator is required to use the licensed version. You can activate the program on the developer’s official site.
If you want to activate this program for free, download Adobe Illustrator key. You will then be able to use the application permanently and without any restrictions.
Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)
What’s changed in RePack 2:
- The assembly was created on the basis of the Adobe standalone installer version 5.9.0.372, which is not available to the general public.
- From the installer, with the exception of the required minimum, the Adobe Desktop Common module is cut out, which is installed by the original installer without fail.
- From the installer, the Adobe Creative Cloud module is completely cut out, which is installed by the original installer without fail.
- The installer provides a choice of installation path and program interface language, as well as the ability to run the program immediately after installation is completed.
- During installation, a “video carousel” was launched in the installer window, demonstrating the capabilities of the program.
- Unlocked the ability to install the program on Windows 10 junior versions.
- Updated Adobe Illustrator main module to version 27.2.0.339.
- Updated the Adobe CCX Process helper to version 4.13.1.4.
- Updated the Adobe CoreSync helper module to version 6.1.0.10.
- Added Adobe CC Library helper module version 3.22.1.3.
- Disabled spy modules Log Transport Application and CRLog Transport Application.
- On the Home screen (start window), the notification about the passage / end of the trial period is hidden.
- The program has already been cured. After authorization, you can use cloud storage, libraries and other online services.
2024.05.11 17:58 AdorableLaw5585 Brother's friends refuse to keep an eye on me while he was overseas, and they lied to his face when he came back.
So my older brother (33M) had to go overseas for six months and told me that his friends Chris and Melissa Best (let's call them by what I call them, Piss and Malarkey Worst) were going to keep an eye on me, so I (31F) thought they were going to. So a little background, I have autism, but high functioning, and I live with my brother. So the time my brother was gone, Piss and Malarkey never once bothered to come and see me, why? Because they hate me. They hate the fact that I am a Born Again Christian and they worship Satan 24/7. My mom (59F) came to visit me from Connecticut (where her and my dad live) when my brother was away and I told her that they refused to see me. One time I took my cat outside to walk around the yard, and Piss and Malarkey drove by, rolled the window down a crack and kept driving, didn't even bother to come and see me. I have been nothing but nice to them, and they just shut me out and think I'm worthless. I got emotional when I told my mom all this and told her that I felt like I had become avoidable. She hugged me tightly. My mom was livid when I told her all of this. It hurt me so bad that they just threw me under the bus like that and treat me like shit. She told my dad (62M) all of this as well and ended up telling my brother. My brother brushed it off, putting his full trust in Piss and Malarkey. He doesn't see their true colors like my parents and I do. When my mom was still visiting, Malarkey messaged me about the water bill, and lying to my brother saying she went in the house and grabbed the checkbook to help pay for it when my mom said that she would. So mom confronted Malarkey, she called my mom a bitch after the confrontation. Yeah, Malarkey is terrified of my mom, don't mess with Mama Bear. I was glad my mom had my back and came to see me. Three weeks ago, my brother came home. I was overjoyed to see him. I made him dinner, pastalaya, turned out amazing. The day after he came home, I wanted to play the switch with him, but he went to go see Piss and Malarkey. And of course, they lied to his face saying that they tried to see me a couple times but I "blew them off". I call bullshit. So he ended up telling my dad and not my mom because he knew my mom would make their lives a living hell. Well, Piss and Malarkey I know will never apologize to me, and I have accepted that. They can continue to spread shit about me, but this is come back one day and bite them in the ass, hard. Like say my brother will see their true colors and have nothing more to do with them, I hope he sees this really soon. Hope everyone has a great weekend, God Bless and make good choices.
submitted by AdorableLaw5585 to Horriblepeopleamongus [link] [comments]
2024.05.11 17:55 sylsau Après un peu plus de 4 heures de course, un spectaculaire accident a impliqué une Hypercar, la Cadillac n°2 d'Earl Bamber, et une GT3, la BMW M4 n°31 de Sean Gelael. Les deux pilotes vont bien, mais le drapeau rouge a été déployé.
 | submitted by sylsau to SportsFR [link] [comments] |
2024.05.11 17:50 EnragedBarrothh Melee mechanics in a movement shooter
I’ve been running ideas through my head all week about a game idea for a medieval fantasy movement shooter and scratching my head over mechanics for melee combat outside of simply swinging and dealing damage, I’d love to have some thoughts and feedback on these two systems.
submitted by EnragedBarrothh to gamedesign [link] [comments]
- Melee Damage falloff, each melee weapon has a certain range in which it will deal full damage, and a larger range where damage is gradually reduced depending on the range the enemy is from the target, with a minimum of 70% damage being dealt before the attack outright misses. My idea is that this system will encourage players to dedicate to strikes to attempt to deal full damage, as opposed to running just close enough for their hit to register to ‘tap’ them before disengaging, as well as allowing characters that might be dealt a lethal blow to avoid death by backpedaling into the damage falloff zone and being left instead with a sliver of health, providing an intense scenario for both the attacker and defender.
- When damaged, 50% of the damage received is displayed as ‘red’ HP, which after a second of being undamaged, will start to regenerate over the course of 5 seconds. My idea with this is to again encourage players to go ‘all-in’ on attacks rather than chipping away at eachother, as multiple quick strikes can cut down an enemy quickly, but allowing them to escape or block/dodge a few of your strikes, or retreating after scoring a big hit gives them much greater survivability, prolonging the fight and increasing risk of retaliation.
2024.05.11 17:50 DEPnDOM What to do for my 10 y/o CKD cat who pees on things?
I’m absolutely distraught with the need to reach out for help… More backstory below, but this morning my poor cat has once again peed on the bed while I’m laying in it. The amount of ruined bedding and furniture isn’t sustainable, but I also refuse to give up my cat.
About 6-8 months ago I took my lovely ex-stray Torque to the vet. I adopted him 5 years ago from a shelter who originally had told me a family brought him in after seeing him behind a restaurant at night for years… Torque quickly became the center of my world- he was my reason to live and keep pushing to better provide for both of us. I whole-heartedly love this cat… So about 6-8 months ago, I took him to the vet to discover he has Chronic Kidney Disease.
His urination issues, I guess and thinking back, have been occurring for a few years. Even while being entirely litter-trained and trained well, he began peeing on piles of clothes- I worked with commercial wardrobe so it was an absolute immediate problem for him to be doing this. As I removed the clothes from our room and tidied up better, it seemed to subside. I could leave town for a few days at a time and would come home to no accidents.
Eventually we moved from a one-bedroom apartment to an entire two-bedroom home. With this big change, I decided Torque needed company and found this wonderfully beautiful 4 y/o FIV+ Bengal I could help by bringing into our home. They’re inseparable now, however that came with of course a period of adjustment. I found in this period of adjustment, Torque began frequently peeing on my main piece of furniture in my living room- a giant Lovesac.
As I began to struggle with finding the Lovesac covered in cat pee, deep-cleaning the cover and the insert, drying everything out, then finding it covered in pee again cyclically I ended up taking him to the vet. The vet offered that perhaps his behavior was a reaction to his new brother- though after they did tests, we discovered that Torque has CKD. The vet wasn’t able to confirm whether his exuberant pissing was behavioral or medical… but I at least had the opportunity now to begin adjusting Torque’s care around the fact of his CKD.
His food changed and he’d start receiving hydration supplements to help support his kidneys and keep them functioning. The accidents kept happening. I no longer was able to leave town for any amount of time without coming home to a wet house. Eventually, I’d have to throw away the entirety of my $1200 Lovesac as it was ruined beyond repair. He grew to habitually pee on it every single night while I was asleep. Every single night- remove, spray, wash, dry… I’d also find from time to time the bedding in my bedroom to be soaked in puddles of pee.
Fine, I could let things go and continue to clean them. Even through all of my frustration and in every moment following, I could not stand the idea of having to rehome my boy. I would have to persevere through this- he couldn’t possibly be intentionally doing these things, and I couldn’t possibly be asked to live on this earth knowing he was not alongside me and in my care. I intend to care for this boy until his end- he’s been my sunshine for too long for me to give up on him…
This morning, I’m laying in bed… I’m awake and the cats know it so they’re floating around the bedroom, as we do every single morning. Luxor (my bengal) never jumps on the bed nor walks on me, however Torque does. Torque likes to make biscuits on my legs if I have a certain blanket over me, and for years now I’ve let him- what do I care? So he’s got a little vice of biscuits on the blanket but only on the spots where my legs are underneath it- fine. Anyway, I say this to underline that I didn’t find it strange to feel him on the bed with me this morning. He wasn’t making biscuits but just sitting there- sometimes he does simply just that. He sits there and stares at me as if trying to get me out of bed- which begs this next question! As I’m laying in bed I realize my foot touches wet bedding- and suddenly it dawns on me that this cat wasn’t just sitting there staring at me… but he peed on the bed while I was in it.
Is it behavioral or medical? Did he do this this morning as a way of telling me to get up and feed him? Him and his brother both have dry food up in the front of the house, but I give them each a bowl of wet each morning. Torque gets his treated wet food, of course, and his treated dry. And sometimes I get up and give them their wet food far later in the morning anyway… Or was it a level of incontinence?
Further, what can I do about this? The constantly cleaning and deep-cleaning isn’t sustainable, not to mention the huge monetary loss I’ve already taken having to discard my Lovesac. I’m buying furniture with my long-term partner soon, and don’t want that to get defaced by urine, too.
I would love to hear any advice from others with cats who have CKD. I would love to learn what I can translate as behavioral and what I can read as medical- Torque deserves the best life I can give him while he’s got time here on earth, and mutually I would love a household in which I myself don’t have to worry about property damage. What can we do?
Much love, blessings, and appreciation.
TL;DR: Have had an ex-stray for half a decade who has become variably incontinent- can’t resolve whether it’s behavioral or related to his CKD. Absolutely need help navigating as would like the boy to have as long a life as possible in my loving care.
(If you need any more info, let me know. The boys have 3 litter boxes around our 2-bedroom home- the boxes are used constantly, but there are these one-off events where things get peed on)
Edit: Cat tax
submitted by DEPnDOM to cats [link] [comments]
About 6-8 months ago I took my lovely ex-stray Torque to the vet. I adopted him 5 years ago from a shelter who originally had told me a family brought him in after seeing him behind a restaurant at night for years… Torque quickly became the center of my world- he was my reason to live and keep pushing to better provide for both of us. I whole-heartedly love this cat… So about 6-8 months ago, I took him to the vet to discover he has Chronic Kidney Disease.
His urination issues, I guess and thinking back, have been occurring for a few years. Even while being entirely litter-trained and trained well, he began peeing on piles of clothes- I worked with commercial wardrobe so it was an absolute immediate problem for him to be doing this. As I removed the clothes from our room and tidied up better, it seemed to subside. I could leave town for a few days at a time and would come home to no accidents.
Eventually we moved from a one-bedroom apartment to an entire two-bedroom home. With this big change, I decided Torque needed company and found this wonderfully beautiful 4 y/o FIV+ Bengal I could help by bringing into our home. They’re inseparable now, however that came with of course a period of adjustment. I found in this period of adjustment, Torque began frequently peeing on my main piece of furniture in my living room- a giant Lovesac.
As I began to struggle with finding the Lovesac covered in cat pee, deep-cleaning the cover and the insert, drying everything out, then finding it covered in pee again cyclically I ended up taking him to the vet. The vet offered that perhaps his behavior was a reaction to his new brother- though after they did tests, we discovered that Torque has CKD. The vet wasn’t able to confirm whether his exuberant pissing was behavioral or medical… but I at least had the opportunity now to begin adjusting Torque’s care around the fact of his CKD.
His food changed and he’d start receiving hydration supplements to help support his kidneys and keep them functioning. The accidents kept happening. I no longer was able to leave town for any amount of time without coming home to a wet house. Eventually, I’d have to throw away the entirety of my $1200 Lovesac as it was ruined beyond repair. He grew to habitually pee on it every single night while I was asleep. Every single night- remove, spray, wash, dry… I’d also find from time to time the bedding in my bedroom to be soaked in puddles of pee.
Fine, I could let things go and continue to clean them. Even through all of my frustration and in every moment following, I could not stand the idea of having to rehome my boy. I would have to persevere through this- he couldn’t possibly be intentionally doing these things, and I couldn’t possibly be asked to live on this earth knowing he was not alongside me and in my care. I intend to care for this boy until his end- he’s been my sunshine for too long for me to give up on him…
This morning, I’m laying in bed… I’m awake and the cats know it so they’re floating around the bedroom, as we do every single morning. Luxor (my bengal) never jumps on the bed nor walks on me, however Torque does. Torque likes to make biscuits on my legs if I have a certain blanket over me, and for years now I’ve let him- what do I care? So he’s got a little vice of biscuits on the blanket but only on the spots where my legs are underneath it- fine. Anyway, I say this to underline that I didn’t find it strange to feel him on the bed with me this morning. He wasn’t making biscuits but just sitting there- sometimes he does simply just that. He sits there and stares at me as if trying to get me out of bed- which begs this next question! As I’m laying in bed I realize my foot touches wet bedding- and suddenly it dawns on me that this cat wasn’t just sitting there staring at me… but he peed on the bed while I was in it.
Is it behavioral or medical? Did he do this this morning as a way of telling me to get up and feed him? Him and his brother both have dry food up in the front of the house, but I give them each a bowl of wet each morning. Torque gets his treated wet food, of course, and his treated dry. And sometimes I get up and give them their wet food far later in the morning anyway… Or was it a level of incontinence?
Further, what can I do about this? The constantly cleaning and deep-cleaning isn’t sustainable, not to mention the huge monetary loss I’ve already taken having to discard my Lovesac. I’m buying furniture with my long-term partner soon, and don’t want that to get defaced by urine, too.
I would love to hear any advice from others with cats who have CKD. I would love to learn what I can translate as behavioral and what I can read as medical- Torque deserves the best life I can give him while he’s got time here on earth, and mutually I would love a household in which I myself don’t have to worry about property damage. What can we do?
Much love, blessings, and appreciation.
TL;DR: Have had an ex-stray for half a decade who has become variably incontinent- can’t resolve whether it’s behavioral or related to his CKD. Absolutely need help navigating as would like the boy to have as long a life as possible in my loving care.
(If you need any more info, let me know. The boys have 3 litter boxes around our 2-bedroom home- the boxes are used constantly, but there are these one-off events where things get peed on)
Edit: Cat tax
2024.05.11 17:46 NeitherSong5056 33/F in a relationship with 26/M and I need help communicating with him in general. He can't seem to open up. What can I do to help communication?
Hi, I just joined this sub. I'm a 33 year old woman and my boyfriend/partner a is younger 26 year old man. We have been together about 4 years. I love him so much. We have both overcome a lot of trauma in our lives and neither of us grew up around examples of healthy relationships. I have been to A LOT of therapy to work through my issues, but of course I still have a lot of work to do probably for the rest of my life. Of course I'm older as well so I have had more time to grow/reflect/learn. This is my first relationship with a significant age gap. My boyfriend has not been to therapy. Where he comes from, it's not as accessible or socially acceptable to get therapy/any kind of help like that, especially for men. I totally understand this and I am empathetic because I don't even want to think about how much worse off my life was/would be without therapy-I would probably be dead! But it has helped a lot and here I am still alive and even happy a lot of the time. Anyway, when something is uncomfortable to discuss, bf shuts down. If he doesn't shut down, he turns to other defense mechanisms that can be hurtful but are mostly draining and frustrating. He claims he will go to therapy but what point is therapy if he has his wall up and refuses to even try to understand where I am coming from? He is supportive of me in so many ways, but I don't get to support him because he keeps everything inside behind his wall. It has started to affect our sex life which I know is a very bad sign. I just can't get into it when I feel like he knows everything good or bad about me but I can't get him to even let me know his basic boundaries. For example if I am annoying him I have asked him a million times to let me know instead of holding it all in then having a disrespectful outburst at me over something ridiculous. He says I GET IT ILL DO THAT NEXT TIME but even those words trigger me at this point because I've heard it so many times before. We will discuss solutions such as taking a walk before getting heated in an argument/discussion, but he doesn't follow through. I'm not perfect but I continue to meet my commitments to promises I make him. If he lets me know something bothers him, I stop. Has anyone had success helping a partner open up who has been through severe trauma? I know he loves me so much. I love him too. Whether we stay together or not, I want him to be happy and I will love him forever. I don't know how to help him open up and I understand why he is hesitant. I also understand he needs to decide to do this for himself, not me. I feel rejected and lonely. I don't believe he wants me to feel this way, but he isn't doing anything to reassure me. He tries to avoid problems and avoid discussions. He accuses me of nagging, but the reality is he keeps repeating the same behavior so I eventually have to repeat myself. If he listened and/or put effort in the first time (or second, third time, etc) I wouldn't have to keep bringing up the same stupid stuff. I don't want to keep talking about the same lame stuff either! I think he understands intellectually how that doesn't work/makes things worse but emotionally he doesn't seem willing or able to take action in a productive way without turning conversations into an argument/blame game. It's like a switch goes off and he shuts down whether I'm asking nicely or yelling at him whatever he just shuts me out no matter which way I've tried to approach. I am becoming indifferent to anything mean or kind he says to me, which I know is a bad sign.
I guess what I'm asking is can anyone relate? How did you deal with it? Does anyone have ideas on how I can support him and encourage him/open a line of communication? Does anyone else have a partner with trouble communicating? Has anything helped? ❤️
submitted by NeitherSong5056 to relationship_advice [link] [comments]
I guess what I'm asking is can anyone relate? How did you deal with it? Does anyone have ideas on how I can support him and encourage him/open a line of communication? Does anyone else have a partner with trouble communicating? Has anything helped? ❤️
2024.05.11 17:36 DEPnDOM What to do for my 10 y/o CKD cat who pees on things?
I’m absolutely distraught with the need to reach out for help… More backstory below, but this morning my poor cat has once again peed on the bed while I’m laying in it. The amount of ruined bedding and furniture isn’t sustainable, but I also refuse to give up my cat.
About 6-8 months ago I took my lovely ex-stray Torque to the vet. I adopted him 5 years ago from a shelter who originally had told me a family brought him in after seeing him behind a restaurant at night for years… Torque quickly became the center of my world- he was my reason to live and keep pushing to better provide for both of us. I whole-heartedly love this cat… So about 6-8 months ago, I took him to the vet to discover he has Chronic Kidney Disease.
His urination issues, I guess and thinking back, have been occurring for a few years. Even while being entirely litter-trained and trained well, he began peeing on piles of clothes- I worked with commercial wardrobe so it was an absolute immediate problem for him to be doing this. As I removed the clothes from our room and tidied up better, it seemed to subside. I could leave town for a few days at a time and would come home to no accidents.
Eventually we moved from a one-bedroom apartment to an entire two-bedroom home. With this big change, I decided Torque needed company and found this wonderfully beautiful 4 y/o FIV+ Bengal I could help by bringing into our home. They’re inseparable now, however that came with of course a period of adjustment. I found in this period of adjustment, Torque began frequently peeing on my main piece of furniture in my living room- a giant Lovesac.
As I began to struggle with finding the Lovesac covered in cat pee, deep-cleaning the cover and the insert, drying everything out, then finding it covered in pee again cyclically I ended up taking him to the vet. The vet offered that perhaps his behavior was a reaction to his new brother- though after they did tests, we discovered that Torque has CKD. The vet wasn’t able to confirm whether his exuberant pissing was behavioral or medical… but I at least had the opportunity now to begin adjusting Torque’s care around the fact of his CKD.
His food changed and he’d start receiving hydration supplements to help support his kidneys and keep them functioning. The accidents kept happening. I no longer was able to leave town for any amount of time without coming home to a wet house. Eventually, I’d have to throw away the entirety of my $1200 Lovesac as it was ruined beyond repair. He grew to habitually pee on it every single night while I was asleep. Every single night- remove, spray, wash, dry… I’d also find from time to time the bedding in my bedroom to be soaked in puddles of pee.
Fine, I could let things go and continue to clean them. Even through all of my frustration and in every moment following, I could not stand the idea of having to rehome my boy. I would have to persevere through this- he couldn’t possibly be intentionally doing these things, and I couldn’t possibly be asked to live on this earth knowing he was not alongside me and in my care. I intend to care for this boy until his end- he’s been my sunshine for too long for me to give up on him…
This morning, I’m laying in bed… I’m awake and the cats know it so they’re floating around the bedroom, as we do every single morning. Luxor (my bengal) never jumps on the bed nor walks on me, however Torque does. Torque likes to make biscuits on my legs if I have a certain blanket over me, and for years now I’ve let him- what do I care? So he’s got a little vice of biscuits on the blanket but only on the spots where my legs are underneath it- fine. Anyway, I say this to underline that I didn’t find it strange to feel him on the bed with me this morning. He wasn’t making biscuits but just sitting there- sometimes he does simply just that. He sits there and stares at me as if trying to get me out of bed- which begs this next question! As I’m laying in bed I realize my foot touches wet bedding- and suddenly it dawns on me that this cat wasn’t just sitting there staring at me… but he peed on the bed while I was in it.
Is it behavioral or medical? Did he do this this morning as a way of telling me to get up and feed him? Him and his brother both have dry food up in the front of the house, but I give them each a bowl of wet each morning. Torque gets his treated wet food, of course, and his treated dry. And sometimes I get up and give them their wet food far later in the morning anyway… Or was it a level of incontinence?
Further, what can I do about this? The constantly cleaning and deep-cleaning isn’t sustainable, not to mention the huge monetary loss I’ve already taken having to discard my Lovesac. I’m buying furniture with my long-term partner soon, and don’t want that to get defaced by urine, too.
I would love to hear any advice from others with cats who have CKD. I would love to learn what I can translate as behavioral and what I can read as medical- Torque deserves the best life I can give him while he’s got time here on earth, and mutually I would love a household in which I myself don’t have to worry about property damage. What can we do?
Much love, blessings, and appreciation.
TL;DR: Have had an ex-stray for half a decade who has become variably incontinent- can’t resolve whether it’s behavioral or related to his CKD. Absolutely need help navigating as would like the boy to have as long a life as possible in my loving care.
(If you need any more info, let me know. The boys have 3 litter boxes around our 2-bedroom home- the boxes are used constantly, but there are these one-off events where things get peed on)
Edit: Cat tax
submitted by DEPnDOM to PetAdvice [link] [comments]
About 6-8 months ago I took my lovely ex-stray Torque to the vet. I adopted him 5 years ago from a shelter who originally had told me a family brought him in after seeing him behind a restaurant at night for years… Torque quickly became the center of my world- he was my reason to live and keep pushing to better provide for both of us. I whole-heartedly love this cat… So about 6-8 months ago, I took him to the vet to discover he has Chronic Kidney Disease.
His urination issues, I guess and thinking back, have been occurring for a few years. Even while being entirely litter-trained and trained well, he began peeing on piles of clothes- I worked with commercial wardrobe so it was an absolute immediate problem for him to be doing this. As I removed the clothes from our room and tidied up better, it seemed to subside. I could leave town for a few days at a time and would come home to no accidents.
Eventually we moved from a one-bedroom apartment to an entire two-bedroom home. With this big change, I decided Torque needed company and found this wonderfully beautiful 4 y/o FIV+ Bengal I could help by bringing into our home. They’re inseparable now, however that came with of course a period of adjustment. I found in this period of adjustment, Torque began frequently peeing on my main piece of furniture in my living room- a giant Lovesac.
As I began to struggle with finding the Lovesac covered in cat pee, deep-cleaning the cover and the insert, drying everything out, then finding it covered in pee again cyclically I ended up taking him to the vet. The vet offered that perhaps his behavior was a reaction to his new brother- though after they did tests, we discovered that Torque has CKD. The vet wasn’t able to confirm whether his exuberant pissing was behavioral or medical… but I at least had the opportunity now to begin adjusting Torque’s care around the fact of his CKD.
His food changed and he’d start receiving hydration supplements to help support his kidneys and keep them functioning. The accidents kept happening. I no longer was able to leave town for any amount of time without coming home to a wet house. Eventually, I’d have to throw away the entirety of my $1200 Lovesac as it was ruined beyond repair. He grew to habitually pee on it every single night while I was asleep. Every single night- remove, spray, wash, dry… I’d also find from time to time the bedding in my bedroom to be soaked in puddles of pee.
Fine, I could let things go and continue to clean them. Even through all of my frustration and in every moment following, I could not stand the idea of having to rehome my boy. I would have to persevere through this- he couldn’t possibly be intentionally doing these things, and I couldn’t possibly be asked to live on this earth knowing he was not alongside me and in my care. I intend to care for this boy until his end- he’s been my sunshine for too long for me to give up on him…
This morning, I’m laying in bed… I’m awake and the cats know it so they’re floating around the bedroom, as we do every single morning. Luxor (my bengal) never jumps on the bed nor walks on me, however Torque does. Torque likes to make biscuits on my legs if I have a certain blanket over me, and for years now I’ve let him- what do I care? So he’s got a little vice of biscuits on the blanket but only on the spots where my legs are underneath it- fine. Anyway, I say this to underline that I didn’t find it strange to feel him on the bed with me this morning. He wasn’t making biscuits but just sitting there- sometimes he does simply just that. He sits there and stares at me as if trying to get me out of bed- which begs this next question! As I’m laying in bed I realize my foot touches wet bedding- and suddenly it dawns on me that this cat wasn’t just sitting there staring at me… but he peed on the bed while I was in it.
Is it behavioral or medical? Did he do this this morning as a way of telling me to get up and feed him? Him and his brother both have dry food up in the front of the house, but I give them each a bowl of wet each morning. Torque gets his treated wet food, of course, and his treated dry. And sometimes I get up and give them their wet food far later in the morning anyway… Or was it a level of incontinence?
Further, what can I do about this? The constantly cleaning and deep-cleaning isn’t sustainable, not to mention the huge monetary loss I’ve already taken having to discard my Lovesac. I’m buying furniture with my long-term partner soon, and don’t want that to get defaced by urine, too.
I would love to hear any advice from others with cats who have CKD. I would love to learn what I can translate as behavioral and what I can read as medical- Torque deserves the best life I can give him while he’s got time here on earth, and mutually I would love a household in which I myself don’t have to worry about property damage. What can we do?
Much love, blessings, and appreciation.
TL;DR: Have had an ex-stray for half a decade who has become variably incontinent- can’t resolve whether it’s behavioral or related to his CKD. Absolutely need help navigating as would like the boy to have as long a life as possible in my loving care.
(If you need any more info, let me know. The boys have 3 litter boxes around our 2-bedroom home- the boxes are used constantly, but there are these one-off events where things get peed on)
Edit: Cat tax
2024.05.11 17:29 Individual-Onion5132 I avoided someone because of my own insecurities
Okay so, before I start, I will say that I know I was the asshole in this situation. I have since apologised for it and thankfully the person was gracious enough to just treat it as if it never happened. I just want to get some different perspectives on it, or perhaps some other ways I could have approached it as it's been in my head again recently, and I wasn't big into reddit at the time it all happened so I never wrote about it. Having watched Charlotte a bit these past few months y'all seem like a harsh but fair bunch. So, here goes.
I do need to preface this by saying, that my high school experience was far from ideal. I was basically the loner, without going into details I have a few conditions which restrict my abilities in social situations thus I was very quickly outcast by almost everyone and bullied pretty mercilessly. It had a great impact on me, that to be honest I'm only beginning to realise the full extent of now.
I go to this pub, have done so on a fairly regular basis since I was about 18. It became 'the local' and I very much enjoyed going there, still do despite all the drama that would unfold. One night I was there, and I walk up to the bar for a refill when I immediately recognise the person behind the bar as someone I'd gone to the same school as. Not only that but we'd had some interactions on social media (a big sticking point of mine over the years) that were, awkward, to say the least. In fact, they'd more or less made it clear they weren't interested in speaking to me some years prior to this. I had also been told by certain people over the years that they were kinda well known for being mean, some would probably say a bully.
I also go to this said pub with a couple of mates, and I immediately tell them that I knew who the person behind the bar was and I'd much rather not deal with them. The interactions we'd had previously immediately came to mind and, typical of me, I just wanted no part of it.
So, I started going up to the other bar (there are two in this pub) to get served quietly. I would sneak out through the passage beside the toilets. Until one day, much to the shock of myself and my mates, this person was at the bar (they'd only been there at night up until this point). I used the excuse of them serving someone else to quietly go down to the other bar, however instead of going back like I normally would, I decide to just walk out through the main entrance to the sports bar right past them. Of course they noticed and asked my mate (who had stayed there) if I was avoiding them, and me being me I just said 'well they know now so why stop'.
This kept on going until one night when me and my mates went out to another bar pretty close by and of course, wouldn't you know who greeted us at the door? So I go back to my usual routine of avoiding their existence, until about an hour later when they, with my mate beside them, come up to me and point blank asked why I was avoiding them. To which I said, nothing. Just stared at them blankly until they left the table I was sitting at, then left. To add salt into the wounds, me and my mate had agreed prior to me leaving that we'd meet back at the usual pub we go to. I go there, and eventually end up leaving because I'm not in the mood for drinking at this point. So much so that I went out behind the pub and bruised my knuckles up good on a poor roller door. As it turns out good thing I did leave, because I get a message on my walk home to say they were hanging with said person somewhere else.
Needless to say I was beyond furious, at both my friends and the person in question, after that revelation. I'm walking home by myself and you're out hanging with someone who I felt ruined the night and I've made it clear I don't want to talk to? I kind of felt like I was back in school, all the people who ganged up on me are over there celebrating while I'm back on my own. In fact that's what I thought this person was doing, taking my friends and hanging with them to stick it to me. That I think was a big part of why it hurt so much and I won't lie, is the one small part of it all that still stings me a bit to this day. Hell, imagine I hadn't left and I saw them walking out of the bar? That would have made it 10 times worse.
I met up with my friends a few weeks later and we sorted it all out, apologies were given and I was filled in on what happened after I left. Long story short, I found out they kicked on to one of the worst pubs in our area which made me feel a little better about it. The same cannot be said for the person I was avoiding though, in fact I dug my heels in there. Wouldn't even go back to the pub for about a month and when I did, I made my disdain for them known.
Little did they (or my friends for a while) know that things were happening in the background. A few months prior to shit hitting the fan I started attending therapy, which I still attend to this day. It has helped me greatly, in many aspects. I regailed them with all the details regarding this, and they insisted for MONTHS that I make things at very least civil (which I had not much of an idea of) with this person. I must admit I often tuned out as it wasn't what I wanted to hear, until eventually, I couldn't not hear it anymore. It was like a lightbulb went off, and I realised that it was taking a whole lot more out of me than it was worth. In fact I distinctly remember asking myself, 'why am I even coming here if this is what I do to myself?' After I insisted we leave (yes I would do that if I didn't want to deal with them) after having just got there and realising they were there, but that I'd have to deal with them as the usual bar (they segregate the two sides) was closed, enough was enough. I even said to myself 'I must admit, even by my standards, this is ridiculous'.
So after getting over my fear of them telling me to go fuck myself (which they would have had every right to do honestly), I finally got served by them for the first time in over a year (yes I avoided them for more than a year). And, it went anything but how I thought it would. Before long we were striking up conversations like nothing had happened, and eventually I apologised to them for everything and tried to explain (very horribly) why I'd done it. I have to say, I know they had to treat it that way (which they admitted) but my respect for them went up massively after that. To do that after being treated as if you don't exist was just, man it honestly still blows my mind. I will always be thankful to them for the way they handled that.
Having had some months to think about it, and not a week as I'd had prior to trying to explain everything to them, I now realise that I never really had a good reason to do what I did. I thought I did, but I didn't, Maybe a slight reason to feel awkward owing to the previous encounters, but not to treat them like that.
One of the things therapy has helped me to understand is that I've developed a 'dome' if you will, and that any time I see any person that was part of all that I go into flight mode. In retrospect, I think that's what happened here. I looked at someone from my past, who I'd known to be somewhat mean from what I'd been told and that's what I did. Except, this person never really did anything to justify that. Which really I think signifies how bad it, and my mind and mental health had got. I do kind of wish I'd thought/had the balls to explain this to them, but I didn't.
It taught me a great lesson, don't factor my school experiences into EVERYTHING I do. Don't get me wrong, there are still going to be people I avoid. I will just try my utmost to ensure that it's people I know for 100% certain were involved in what happened to me, or that I do have some other absolute reason to avoid. And also, ideally, not people who work at a place I frequent often.
So, Casa De Petty, how say you? How do you think I should have dealt with these feelings? I've come up with a few things privately, but I'd like to know your thoughts and, possibly, Charlotte's.
submitted by Individual-Onion5132 to CharlotteDobreYouTube [link] [comments]
I do need to preface this by saying, that my high school experience was far from ideal. I was basically the loner, without going into details I have a few conditions which restrict my abilities in social situations thus I was very quickly outcast by almost everyone and bullied pretty mercilessly. It had a great impact on me, that to be honest I'm only beginning to realise the full extent of now.
I go to this pub, have done so on a fairly regular basis since I was about 18. It became 'the local' and I very much enjoyed going there, still do despite all the drama that would unfold. One night I was there, and I walk up to the bar for a refill when I immediately recognise the person behind the bar as someone I'd gone to the same school as. Not only that but we'd had some interactions on social media (a big sticking point of mine over the years) that were, awkward, to say the least. In fact, they'd more or less made it clear they weren't interested in speaking to me some years prior to this. I had also been told by certain people over the years that they were kinda well known for being mean, some would probably say a bully.
I also go to this said pub with a couple of mates, and I immediately tell them that I knew who the person behind the bar was and I'd much rather not deal with them. The interactions we'd had previously immediately came to mind and, typical of me, I just wanted no part of it.
So, I started going up to the other bar (there are two in this pub) to get served quietly. I would sneak out through the passage beside the toilets. Until one day, much to the shock of myself and my mates, this person was at the bar (they'd only been there at night up until this point). I used the excuse of them serving someone else to quietly go down to the other bar, however instead of going back like I normally would, I decide to just walk out through the main entrance to the sports bar right past them. Of course they noticed and asked my mate (who had stayed there) if I was avoiding them, and me being me I just said 'well they know now so why stop'.
This kept on going until one night when me and my mates went out to another bar pretty close by and of course, wouldn't you know who greeted us at the door? So I go back to my usual routine of avoiding their existence, until about an hour later when they, with my mate beside them, come up to me and point blank asked why I was avoiding them. To which I said, nothing. Just stared at them blankly until they left the table I was sitting at, then left. To add salt into the wounds, me and my mate had agreed prior to me leaving that we'd meet back at the usual pub we go to. I go there, and eventually end up leaving because I'm not in the mood for drinking at this point. So much so that I went out behind the pub and bruised my knuckles up good on a poor roller door. As it turns out good thing I did leave, because I get a message on my walk home to say they were hanging with said person somewhere else.
Needless to say I was beyond furious, at both my friends and the person in question, after that revelation. I'm walking home by myself and you're out hanging with someone who I felt ruined the night and I've made it clear I don't want to talk to? I kind of felt like I was back in school, all the people who ganged up on me are over there celebrating while I'm back on my own. In fact that's what I thought this person was doing, taking my friends and hanging with them to stick it to me. That I think was a big part of why it hurt so much and I won't lie, is the one small part of it all that still stings me a bit to this day. Hell, imagine I hadn't left and I saw them walking out of the bar? That would have made it 10 times worse.
I met up with my friends a few weeks later and we sorted it all out, apologies were given and I was filled in on what happened after I left. Long story short, I found out they kicked on to one of the worst pubs in our area which made me feel a little better about it. The same cannot be said for the person I was avoiding though, in fact I dug my heels in there. Wouldn't even go back to the pub for about a month and when I did, I made my disdain for them known.
Little did they (or my friends for a while) know that things were happening in the background. A few months prior to shit hitting the fan I started attending therapy, which I still attend to this day. It has helped me greatly, in many aspects. I regailed them with all the details regarding this, and they insisted for MONTHS that I make things at very least civil (which I had not much of an idea of) with this person. I must admit I often tuned out as it wasn't what I wanted to hear, until eventually, I couldn't not hear it anymore. It was like a lightbulb went off, and I realised that it was taking a whole lot more out of me than it was worth. In fact I distinctly remember asking myself, 'why am I even coming here if this is what I do to myself?' After I insisted we leave (yes I would do that if I didn't want to deal with them) after having just got there and realising they were there, but that I'd have to deal with them as the usual bar (they segregate the two sides) was closed, enough was enough. I even said to myself 'I must admit, even by my standards, this is ridiculous'.
So after getting over my fear of them telling me to go fuck myself (which they would have had every right to do honestly), I finally got served by them for the first time in over a year (yes I avoided them for more than a year). And, it went anything but how I thought it would. Before long we were striking up conversations like nothing had happened, and eventually I apologised to them for everything and tried to explain (very horribly) why I'd done it. I have to say, I know they had to treat it that way (which they admitted) but my respect for them went up massively after that. To do that after being treated as if you don't exist was just, man it honestly still blows my mind. I will always be thankful to them for the way they handled that.
Having had some months to think about it, and not a week as I'd had prior to trying to explain everything to them, I now realise that I never really had a good reason to do what I did. I thought I did, but I didn't, Maybe a slight reason to feel awkward owing to the previous encounters, but not to treat them like that.
One of the things therapy has helped me to understand is that I've developed a 'dome' if you will, and that any time I see any person that was part of all that I go into flight mode. In retrospect, I think that's what happened here. I looked at someone from my past, who I'd known to be somewhat mean from what I'd been told and that's what I did. Except, this person never really did anything to justify that. Which really I think signifies how bad it, and my mind and mental health had got. I do kind of wish I'd thought/had the balls to explain this to them, but I didn't.
It taught me a great lesson, don't factor my school experiences into EVERYTHING I do. Don't get me wrong, there are still going to be people I avoid. I will just try my utmost to ensure that it's people I know for 100% certain were involved in what happened to me, or that I do have some other absolute reason to avoid. And also, ideally, not people who work at a place I frequent often.
So, Casa De Petty, how say you? How do you think I should have dealt with these feelings? I've come up with a few things privately, but I'd like to know your thoughts and, possibly, Charlotte's.
2024.05.11 17:28 ben02015 Does diluting electrolytes in lots of water negate the benefits?
I really hate snake juice and I was looking for better alternatives recently.
I found some flavored electrolyte powder packets to add to water, which seemed like a good alternative. They have a good ratio of the important salts, and they don’t even taste bad. The reason they don’t taste bad is because 1) they have flavoring to mask the salty taste, and 2) they don’t actually contain a lot of salt.
I would need about 10 of these packets per day, in order to get enough salt. If I mix with the recommended amount of water, it would be about 3.5 liters (about 1 gallon) in total. Of course, I could just use less water, but then it tastes saltier, and the whole point is to avoid the bad taste.
So, is it problematic to be drinking so much volume, and diluting the salt? I suppose water can flush salt from the body, so does this negate the effects?
submitted by ben02015 to fasting [link] [comments]
I found some flavored electrolyte powder packets to add to water, which seemed like a good alternative. They have a good ratio of the important salts, and they don’t even taste bad. The reason they don’t taste bad is because 1) they have flavoring to mask the salty taste, and 2) they don’t actually contain a lot of salt.
I would need about 10 of these packets per day, in order to get enough salt. If I mix with the recommended amount of water, it would be about 3.5 liters (about 1 gallon) in total. Of course, I could just use less water, but then it tastes saltier, and the whole point is to avoid the bad taste.
So, is it problematic to be drinking so much volume, and diluting the salt? I suppose water can flush salt from the body, so does this negate the effects?
2024.05.11 17:27 Rabbit_Flowers Sharing my story and frustration
So for background, I had a car accident some years ago. Shattered pelvis, broken ribs, broken ankle, liver cut 3/4 in half, head injury causing short term memory loss for over a year. 2 plates, 9 screws and 3 months in a wheelchair, I graduated to a walker and learned to walk again. 2 years after that was diagnosed with stage 3 arthritis in my hip with severe bone loss, (blood loss was too long previously and they didn't realize it) and had a hip replacement. I am over weight due to physical activity being extremely difficult so that compounds the situation. I worked my butt off, went back to college at 34, graduated 5 years later, and have since been blessed with a job I can do sitting down from home. I've refused, so far, to request a handicap permit for parking because there are many who need those spaces more than I do, although I'm beginning to think I'm just being stubborn. In addition to the damage and hardware in my body, my pelvis is not even. This causes me severe pain if I stand for any length of time. If I sit, I have to reposition myself constantly. If I'm laying down, I have to have a pillow between my knees to even tolerate it. The thing is, I know my limitations and try hard not to push my body to the point where I'm either crying or down for 3 days to recuperate. And so I don't appear disabled at first glance. Even even second glance. I, of course, do not walk normally, but it's not overstated. It would be if I pushed, but I'm not into self torture beyond the chronic pain I already deal with. I feel like people treat me like I'm being dramatic or lying because my disability isn't more obvious. Or im just not disabled enough for any sympathy or accommodations. I also have ADHD and ASD which makes it harder because of sensory issues and comorbid conditions like digestive issues and hypermobility. My adult son lives with me and helps me which I am forever grateful for. One situation we had about a year ago was this: My son ensured I had a parking space close to our apartment. He painted it blue (it's not state property), and spoke to the neighbors and they all agreed to let me have it. We had a new person move in who has a permit. Instead of speaking to me rationally about it, she started yelling about how she was disabled and I was not and that the spot was hers forever and I was never parking in it again. I didn't realize she had a permit yet, or I would have approached her first to make sure she was taken care of. I understand she may have been treated badly or unfairly in the past so I calmly handled the interaction and my son created a second spot for her that was even closer to her apartment than the one I was using. Recently, she was screaming at me over a trash can that the trash folks put behind her car and tattled to the landlord saying it was us and made a big to-do over it. We usually get her trash can and bring in back for her but I had not been feeling great and my son hadn't either so we didn't for a couple weeks. This is not something arranged, we just do it to be nice. This is not an isolated incident, it happens to me when I'm out or at work or just in general. Ive lost friends because they invite me to do things I can't and even when I remind them why, they act like I'm just being antisocial or a party pooper. I don't park in handicap spots in public, just my one makeshift spot at home that's "blue" and not really a handicap spot by any standards. The looks I get from leaning down on my grocery cart while shopping are plenty without me trying to use any accommodation available. I don't need much, just kindness and consideration - the same as I give others. Why are people so quick to judge or assume things about others? It makes me depressed sometimes knowing that I miss out because I don't just have to consider my physical limitations but also the interactions I will have with others and making sure I have the energy to deal with that too. Which I don't a lot.
Anyway, thanks for listening.
submitted by Rabbit_Flowers to ChronicPain [link] [comments]
Anyway, thanks for listening.
2024.05.11 17:25 IdQuodAbiciendumEst7 Game Art & Design: So Far, It's Not Been Worth It
I'm new to this program and four classes in, and I have some concerns about the quality of instruction so far:
So far, I've learnt nothing, other than the facts that a formal qualification is not a good predictor of pedagogical skill, and SNHU really wants there to be even more web adverts than there are now.
People who have graduated from this emphasis: does it improve?
submitted by IdQuodAbiciendumEst7 to SNHU [link] [comments]
- GRA-220:
- In a course named "Introduction To Digital Imaging", one might expect to learn about the difference between raster and vector images, the arithmetic behind PorteDuff blending/compositing modes, image representations on disk vs. in memory, a layperson's overview of post-processing shaders, or really, anything that actually involved digital imaging; instead, it was just Baby's First Photoshop, in which the crowning achievement is to make a web advert of the kind people normally ignore or NoScript out of existence.
- The instructor, in an amazing display of petulance and incuriosity, marked a written assignment as an 0 — because I accidentally submitted a PDF rather than a DOCX. (It should be noted that Word 365 can natively import PDFs.)
- The same instructor asked for a written explanation of web-friendly vs. print-friendly image formats, complained that a thorough discussion of colour depths, the differences between vector and raster, and the higher-resolution needs of raster for print was 'too complex', and what was really desired was a description of the options under File->Save As.... Alongside the obvious problem of complaining about a digital imaging student actually researching something about digital imaging, perhaps the prompt should have been written correctly to begin with.
- FAS-310:
- Why does this course have such a focus on avoiding computers? It's not as if anyone working on video games for pay will be, say, made to work without one by their employer (given that the device is somewhat inherent to the art form).
- The repeated insistence on 10"x14" watercolour paper is a little strange; in addition to the added cost, this is larger than the platen on most flatbed scanners people will have access to at home. What was wrong with 8"x10"?
- I now have a lot of expensive art supplies I'm unlikely to ever use again, when I had a perfectly good stylus right there the whole time whose additional cost would have been $0. Thanks, SNHU!
- The capstone for this course is—quelle surprise—another advert.
- GRA-211: (in fairness, I should mention that this one just began)
- Looking ahead at the assignment schedule, I see that, perhaps unsurprisingly, there's another advert.
- Given that Flash/Animate is no longer as popular as it once was in industry, why is this class taught in it (short of helping Adobe maintain their artificial chokehold on academia)?
So far, I've learnt nothing, other than the facts that a formal qualification is not a good predictor of pedagogical skill, and SNHU really wants there to be even more web adverts than there are now.
People who have graduated from this emphasis: does it improve?
2024.05.11 17:19 Winter_Journalist_23 My first time using Milk Of Magnesia
I posted in here a couple days ago with an issue and decided to solve the issue before it got worse. I thought I'd share in case anyone wanted to try it and wants to know about it. So I went to my local CVS and bought a bottle of Milk Of Magnesia. I started with half a dose, 30 ML. Let's just say, make sure you're near and have easy access to a bathroom because it's definitely not a mild laxative compared to like Miralax. It's definitely milder than Dulcolax, but I'm definitely glad I didn't go with the full 60 ml dose or I'd be out of commission. Also, side note: it tastes absolutely VILE. I had to chug the entire 30 ML in in one go to avoid tasting it. Within an hour and a half of taking it, I was in and out of the bathroom at least six times over the course of 9 hours. It was a mild version of colonoscopy prep. I wasn't going constantly every 5 minutes, but I went probably every 30-60 minutes and it was basically water coming out, and it was the consistency of pee. By the end of the night, all that was coming out was clear liquid. It wasn't painful and I had no side effects besides very runny diarrhea, food poisoning level. Very minimal cramping, the only cramping I had was when it started to hit after an hour and a half but once I went once, the cramps stopped. I had no nausea at all. I was actually really hungry probably due to being cleaned out well. I was definitely extremely gassy too when it started to kick in. The pooping completely stopped after 9 hours, but I still had loose stools throughout the middle of the night. Make sure you're very well hydrated. I drank Gatorade and Electrolit during it, as well as regular water.
I'd use it again if I'm very backed up or to prevent a fecal impaction but it's definitely not something I'd want to use in mild cases of constipation. It was a bit harsher than I expected. Not unbearable or painful, but when I researched about it it said it was an osmotic laxative like Miralax so I was expecting it to act like Miralax. It's said to be safe for at least 7 days and not habit forming, and it says "Stimulant Free" on the bottle but I still wouldn't use it regularly imo. But if you're really really backed up or need to clear out your bowels, it works great. It's much milder than a Stimulant laxative. Personally, Dulcolax and the like gives me insane cramps and its very painful. MOM wasn't painful at all. I was just going to the bathroom ALOT.
submitted by Winter_Journalist_23 to Constipation [link] [comments]
I'd use it again if I'm very backed up or to prevent a fecal impaction but it's definitely not something I'd want to use in mild cases of constipation. It was a bit harsher than I expected. Not unbearable or painful, but when I researched about it it said it was an osmotic laxative like Miralax so I was expecting it to act like Miralax. It's said to be safe for at least 7 days and not habit forming, and it says "Stimulant Free" on the bottle but I still wouldn't use it regularly imo. But if you're really really backed up or need to clear out your bowels, it works great. It's much milder than a Stimulant laxative. Personally, Dulcolax and the like gives me insane cramps and its very painful. MOM wasn't painful at all. I was just going to the bathroom ALOT.
2024.05.11 17:17 postdevs First person narrative account of experiences with paralysis, rls, hypnagogia.
This week I wrote an autobiographical account of my history with sleep paralysis, RLS, and hypnagogic hallucinations.
I was not sure where to share it. I added it and deleted it from a few subs. The only place it ended up was the creative writing sub, though.
And this appears to be the right spot! There are several themes but the hypnagogia is the focus. So it's quite long and probably no one reads it and that's fine. I just wanted to find somewhere to put it in case my experience could benefit someone.
⚠️ ⚠️ WARNING first part is scary and a bit gory... ⚠️ ⚠️
Each witch held their own dainty knife and fork, shaking along with their trembling bony hands, and one was slicing expertly down the center of my big toe with the impossibly sharp blade of their knife. I struggled to move my arms and legs, feeling as though I had freedom of movement, but my physical body remained paralyzed. Unfathomable terror washed over me as I realized that I couldn't scream for help; my mom wouldn't hear me, and I was powerless to stop these witches from feasting on my toes.
I lay there, unable to break free from the oppressive paralysis, forced to endure the excruciating pain as my toes were sliced off and consumed. The air buzzed with the witches' terrifying, joyous laughter, as if they delighted in my agony more than the taste of my flesh. Eventually, my body in a full state of terror jarred itself awake, heart beating more wildly than I had ever experienced, my lungs struggling to gasp more than the tiniest breath. After perhaps a full minute of gathering myself, I drew a deep breath and screamed into the night.
My mother came, of course, but was unable to understand the depth and terror of my experience. Her own reality did not include anything close; for her, it was an exaggeration born of childhood fear, and she became exasperated after a time with my refusal to admit that it was a dream, despite being an extremely caring parent.
The witches appeared to me several times between the ages of 10 and 15, their ghastly faces returning to torment me with each episode of sleep paralysis. Every time, I would be trapped in that terrifying limbo, my body frozen while my mind drowned itself in screams of agony and horror. I knew that they would feast on my toes, the slicing of their knives relentless, inexorable. They would smack their lips and toast each other with my blood-covered flesh as I watched.
During those years, restless legs syndrome (RLS) also began to plague my nights. As soon as I began to drift off to sleep, a discomfort would arise in my legs, like there was a swarm of fat round beetles exploring, searching for an exit. A quick kick would settle it down, but it would rise again in a cycle of building tension, acutely uncomfortable climax, and brief relief of a second or two would follow before it began again. My mother, again meaning well but busy and unfamiliar with RLS, told me it was leg cramps and made me eat more banannas. This didn't help.
It became an increasing problem, stealing precious sleep that my young body needed to thrive. The frustration of RLS merged with the terror of a potential visit from the witches. Without medication, I would lose entire nights to the relentless discomfort.
By the age of 15, the sleep paralysis episodes had occurred at least 10 times, each leaving me with the gut-wrenching memory of being eaten alive that I would carry all the next day in my gut like a sack of bricks. As I lay sleeping, every single night, I wondered if they would visit, and braced myself for an encounter.
They noticed my defiance, their laughter fading into an uneasy silence. Without fanfare, they stood up, collected their cauldron, and retreated into the darkness of my room. Though I still saw them occasionally at the foot of my bed, they became more present than threatening. Sometimes, at the start of an episode, they'd appear briefly before disappearing altogether. They had become inconsequential, and I couldn't even be sure if they were there half the time.
In my early 20s, I discovered that I could almost guarantee a bout of sleep paralysis simply by sleeping during the day. At first, nothing particularly unusual happened, but the paralysis always returned whenever I dozed off, particularly between the hours of 11am and 2pm. I was often sleeping during the day because by then, the restless legs syndrome (RLS) had grown so severe that many nights passed without sleep at all. My body felt like it was full of angry snakes now instead of beetles, desperate to escape. The sensation soon crept upward from my legs to my arms. The cycles of build up, climax, and agonizly brief relief increased in frequency and magnitude. I would often resort to sitting in the shower, flipping the water from icy cold to scalding hot all night, simply to keep myself alert enough to avoid the twitching and spasming until the blessed relief of dawn arrived.
With the daytime paralysis came a variety of hallucinations. Sometimes the witches stood at the foot of my bed, other times they'd disappear, leaving behind benign apparitions like tickling gnomes. There was nothing threatening about these visions, and I began to find a strange sense of comfort in them. I would relax into a dark place where I felt my own energy burning like a sun, present but without physical form. In this state, I felt euphoric, fully aware yet separate from myself. I started taking naps during the day and eagerly anticipated this odd experience.
Yet at night, my sleep remained troubled as RLS tormented me. Eventually, I began taking ropinirole to manage the symptoms, and it brought much-needed relief, helping me reclaim my nights and giving me several years of mostly not worrying about RLS unless I forgot to take my medicine, or the odd night where it bothered me but was still less severe.
In my late 20s, I also experienced a new type of sleep paralysis hallucination. One day it began that there were no visions or hallucinations; instead, I simply lay in a state of paralysis, aware of the room as a darkened and monochrome version of itself. I entertained myself by trying to move my arms and legs against the paralysis, and developed the idea that I had two bodies; my physical body lay on the bed, while my energetic body struggled and flailed. It was like my energy body could move separately, creating a phantom limb sensation. I felt my energy arms and legs extend out, yet my physical body lay still. As my energy body reached further from my physical self, it would snap back as if held by a rubber band.
Intrigued, I began experimenting with this phenomenon, managing to build enough momentum to "pop" out of my body one afternoon. Suddenly, I found myself looking down at my own sleeping form, resting on my back and breathing gently beside my wife, who was playing a game (probably Candy Crush) on her phone in the bed. It was surreal, and I wasn't sure whether I was hallucinating or truly perceiving my own body from a different perspective. Regardless, it was a revelation, and I felt a new sense of exploration as I gazed down at myself.
That first time, I found myself drifting through the house, checking on my two young stepdaughters as they slept. I had recently married, and it was a quiet weekend afternoon with everyone napping peacefully. Once satisfied, I ventured outside, where I took to the sky and flew around the neighborhood, spying on my neighbors. Though it felt like I was limited in speed, I seemingly had no constraints on the continuity of this hallucination. Everything appeared as a perfect physical representation of Earth, and I could travel without interruption.
The landscape was strikingly accurate, but it appeared in monochrome hues — grays, blacks, and whites — with no bright colors. Letters and numbers were unreadable, reduced to blurred nonsense. Despite these distortions, the sensation of soaring above the rolling hills and rooftops was pure euphoria. I sped along at hundreds of miles per hour, basking in the freedom of movement, and immersed in the stunning view that stretched out below me. There did seem to be some sort of very generous limit to how far I could travel, but I thoroughly explored within the boundaries for hundreds of miles around my home.
Over the years into my early 30s, I tried to pursue this opportunity of flight and exploration every chance I could. But during that time, my restless legs syndrome also became more relentless. In the past, no matter how agonizing the night had been, dawn would bring relief like a cold bath washing over me. I would sit outside and watch the sunrise, and the sensation of snakes slithering through my body would finally calm down, perhaps due to circadian rhythms and dopamine regulation. The cycles now began to climax in totally involuntary movement, spasms that caused me to tense my whole body and draw in a sharp breath every time. It would be 5 seconds of rapid buildup, spasm, a second or two of relief, repeat.
Eventually, even the dawn failed to provide respite, and I struggled during night or day whenever I relaxed too long or became even a bit drowsy. Napping became impossible, depriving me of the euphoric dreams I had learned to look forward to. I switched from ropinirole to pramipexole, hoping for relief. The medication helped me sleep five or six hours a night on good nights, but I still missed one or two nights of sleep entirely each week and rarely could nap during the day, because I took the medicine only a couple hours before bed.
Even though my restless legs syndrome worsened, one out of every ten times, I'd still manage to avoid twitching and drift into that state of peaceful paralysis during the day when I dozed off involuntarily. I gradually lost interest in pursuing out-of-body travel and instead sought every time the burning energy of the sun inside of me — the sensation of being infinitely powerful and formless simultaneously. I would retreat into this boundless feeling whenever I had the opportunity.
During these rare occasions when I could sleep during the day, I stumbled across a third type of experience. It felt like I was being sucked into space at impossible speeds, zooming past the planets of our solar system and beyond until I reached a darker patch of space. This spot seemed like a vast, corrugated sewer pipe that swallowed me whole. I rocketed through the universe, traveling at what could only be the speed of light. Eventually, I would break into the atmosphere of some unknown world, drifting down to its surface sometimes, others crashing painfully into terrain. Sometimes, I would hear a loud sound like an explosion in mid travel, and suddenly aterialize on another distant world without any sort of entrace.
These journeys were exhilarating, and each new landscape presented a mystery, revealing worlds unlike anything I'd ever seen.
I made my way down a ladder and emerged outside, where I found a man and a boy standing beside a white pinto horse. They both wore hardened leather over rough potato sack-like clothing, their long hair dotted with bone jewelry, their noses and eyebrows profusely pierced with other fragments of bone adorned with feathers. The man seemed to be instructing the boy on something to do with the horse. I approached them cautiously, fully aware of my lucid dreaming state and retaining all my memories, reasoning, and thoughts. Everything about the scene was vivid, from the clay dust swirling around to the squinting struggle to see in the wind.
Unlike the man and the boy, I had no long hair, no mouth covering, and no leather visor shielding my face from the swirling clay-dust. As I tried to speak, it seemed like they couldn’t hear me, and I wondered if I might be invisible to them. Unconcerned, I reached out to pat the horse on its nose, but before I could make contact, the man swiftly drew a long knife from his belt and stabbed me. He struck again, and the intense pain and feeling of my own scalding hot blood streaming down my pants legs snapped me awake.
Not long after my experience in the greenhouse, I found myself learning more about the worlds I could explore, though the opportunities remained rare. One day, I was transported to a beautiful blue tropical world, crashing into the dunes of a pristine white beach. There, I encountered three women, each towering over me at seven or eight feet tall. Their long black hair framed their pale faces, with blood-red lips striking against their alabaster skin. But what stood out most were their fingernails — long and crimson, curling back upon themselves dozens of times like spiraling ribbons. They were two or three feet in length and added a surreal menace to their presence.
They asked me my name and the name of my father, along with other odd questions, and seemed absolutely intriqued with me. There was a certain sort of heavy molasses quality to their voices that was more than sound and impossible to describe. It had the effect of making me feel drowsy and stupid and slow to move.
As I stood there, they began touching me with their nails, tracing them across my body in elaborate, almost ritualistic patterns. I felt my energy drain with every stroke, a profound exhaustion seeping into my core. The sensation was so intense that I woke up feeling completely drained, my limbs heavy and my spirit sapped.
Another time, I appeared without explanation after my space travel in a cavern brimming with glowing fungi and luminescent crystals. I wasn't myself in this world but instead had taken the place of someone else. My father stood beside me, guiding me through the luminous landscape. He taught me how to identify the bizarre and fascinating flora surrounding us — lessons that etched themselves into my mind and last to this day despite the surreal, made-up nature of this world. The glowing crystals and fungi cast eerie shadows across the cavern walls as my father explained the properties and uses of each.
In real life, these experiences would last for about five to eight minutes, but in the dream realm, the passage of time was different. What seemed like mere minutes could stretch into hours or even days, and in rare cases, the dreams spanned much longer.
The toll became overwhelming. I couldn't escape the agony, even after days of desperate attempts to sleep. More than once, I ended up in the emergency room after going four or five nights without sleep. For some people, this will seem like an exaggeration; I assure you, it is not. I would be nonsensical, having conversations with people tha weren't in the room, drifting in and out of intense 1 second dreams before snapping awake with painful spasms. At the hospital, they would give me percocet, and the painkillers provided brief reprieve from RLS for some reason, allowing me one solid night’s sleep, but the relentless cycle quickly resumed, leaving me struggling once again.
Eventually, I found a neurologist who prescribed Neupro patches that provided temporary relief. For a few months, I managed to sleep more consistently, but the patches quickly lost their effectiveness. It wasn't until I added methadone to the treatment that I finally found more lasting relief.
During those difficult years, I immersed myself in non-dual philosophy. In that crucible of suffering, my conviction solidified: my true nature was more aligned with the energy hallucinations I experienced than with a body made of skin, bone, and brain. That transcendent energy, more real and enduring than the physical form I occupied, became my identity in daily life, watching peacefully as my body and brain navigated the situational complexity of life.
Approaching my 40th birthday, I found that I could sleep at night and dream during the day. My life was in good shape, I lost 60 pounds without effort, and I felt fundamentally and imperturbably peaceful. Suddenly, life was in the palm of my hands, every moment pristine and still and perfect. I felt weightless without the burden of needing to endure trauma every night.
Most importantly to this story, I worked from home and could nap on my lunch breaks.
I visited dozens of worlds in a matter of a few short months and quickly was able to confirm some rules that I had suspected were true from my previous adventures.
One rule is that no one I know in real life ever shows up in the travelling dreams. No matter the place or circumstance or strange beings that I encountered, there was never a familiar face.
Another rule was that no dream person ever had a name or a father. The absence of both seemed to be an unspoken universal truth among these dream world inhabitants. Once I had internalized the significance of this, I began introducing myself to most beings that I encountered as "John, son of Michael." It left a strong impression. My name and lineage seemed to set me apart, bestowing an almost mythical quality upon me that earned me a peculiar reverence among all that I met. This knowledge became the key to navigating the dream worlds with confidence and a consistent purpose of discovery.
I learned accidentally of a unique ability during my travels: a form of telekenesis that allowed me to project force from the palms of my hands. This development led to many episodes of paralysis spent ignoring exploration and instead hilariously and painfully attempting to master this ability for the purpose of travel. Over time, I refined my skill, learning to fly much like Iron Man, but solely through the focused propulsion from my hands. Without stabilization from my feet, I had to carefully control the angle of projection and the amount of force applied to control my trajectory and speed.
Mastering this ability took significant practice, but eventually, I could navigate obstacles with ease and travel great distances in short amounts of time. I also no longer crash landed, thankfully. Importantly, I could harness this power to overcome any threatening beings that I encountered. Previously, my best option was to hide or flee, and that did not always work out. Now I had this amazing sense of fearlessness and confidence that simply cannot be rivaled by real world experience. Every time I heard the buzzing sounds and felt the WUM WUM WUM of energy as I prepared to launch into space, I embraced the journey with eager anticipation, confident in my ability to protect myself and learn about whatever strange world awaited me.
That first time, I fell down instead of up -- into myself, into the infinite dimensionless darkness where I could spin and burn and bathe in the euphoric sense of my own eternal nature. But my peace was quickly interrupted by an intense feeling of pressure at the base of my spine, though I couldn't have pinpointed where the body was that the spine inhabited. Very, very slowly, with a CRUNCHA CRUNCHA CRUNCHA noise for every milimeter of ground gained, it crawled upwards towards my head.
As it climbed, the energy below it intensified, growing exponenentially as the surface area covered grew. It wasn't painful, exactly, but it was terrifyingly intense. That first time, I managed to stay calm long enough for it to reach my shoulder blades before it became unbearably frightening and I jerked myself out of it, sure that I would die if I allowed it to continue upward. Over the last few months I have vowed to myself that I would endure any level of discomfort to see what happens at the end, but I keep chickening out. I have let it go as far as the base of my skull, at which time my head started vibrating so much that I could feel my teeth chattering violently even in my paralysis.
Another time recently when I made this prayer, I went to space as usual, but when I entered the atmosphere of a lush Earth-like world, my telekenesis failed me for the first time ever. Instead, I was pulled like in a slow tractor beam down beneath the perfectly round canopy of a giant, unfamiliar kind of tree. I felt a great sense of calm and peace and simply meditated there for quite some time, maybe 9 or 10 hours of relative time, before I heard a voice from behind the tree.
The man who stepped out from there had his face hidden in shadows. He wore a long dusty leather coat and a huge cowboy hat that shrouded him. As I write this, I find that I am not yet prepared to write about what he said to me, or how I responded. But when we had spoken, he walked solemnly over to me and lay his hand upon my head, and I jerked awake in a state of perfect bliss, despite some conflicting emotions surrounding our conversation. I call him Cowboy Hat Man, and maybe I will write more about him later.
A third time with the prayer, right before I sped off to my normal adventures, I felt a cat jump onto my bed and snuggle against my left leg, purring. It curled up there, and I assumed that it was my actual cat in real life, although it would be very uncharacteristic for him. I actually thought to myself, "Wow, I guess Buddy Socks is my spirit guide today." However, when I awoke, I realized that my door was shut and the cat was not in the room. On that trip, I went to a world that was reminiscent in quality perhaps to 15th century Europe, except on a world where the surface was far more underneath water than on Earth.
I followed the invisible cat to an old man and asked him, "Do you know the truth?" He answered, "No." I followed the invisble cat to young boy and asked him, "Do you know the truth?" He also answered, "No." It was an odd one, really.
Every time I do this, I am setting an alarm for ten minutes. Sometimes the dreams last days in relative time, but I have never yet failed to wake up before that alarm goes off.
I lowered myself slowly through a great opening in that crust, down into a lush jungle. It was beautiful but uncomfortably humid, and I quickly found a cool and dry cavern complex to explore rather than dealing with sweat and unfamiliar insects.
As I navigated through the cavern system, able to see somehow with dim light despite no obvious light source at times, I broke out into a very large open cave with a huge exit out into the jungle. I saw that it was dawn and realized that I had spent the night, however long it was on this world, in the caves.
Suddenly, my four year old daughter, Curly, with her naturally bleach-highlighted rings of long blonde hair and bright blue eyes, drifted slowly over my left shoulder and out towards the exit. She moved at a brisk adult walking pace, her back to the cave opening, her expression curious yet slightly concerned. She called out, "Dada?" in a tone that suggested wonder and slight confusion, but no real alarm in the presence of her father.
Reacting instantly, feeling my gut clench solid into a fist of rock, I used my telekinesis to close the gap between us and gathered her into my arms. She wrapped her legs around my waist and settled her butt onto my forearm, a ritual that we have practiced every day of her life. The force gripping her evaporated instantly, and suddenly, my darling girl was there in my arms, as real as any physical embrace. I could feel the tickle of her hair on my neck, the beautiful warmth of her skin, and was enveloped in her familiar scent.
Initially, I was filled with white hot rage, fueled by my instinctive reaction to the thought that some idiotic dream world inhabitant had decided to mess with my family and harm or kidnap her. But as I held her and she nuzzled her nose into my neck, the anger gave way to sheer amazement. For the first time in a decade of navigating these dreamscapes, someone that I knew from my waking life had entered the dream. This was a rule-defying moment that really rocked me, a serious breach of the established norms of these experiences.
A group of maybe 8 or 10 small winged goblins flew down from out of sight above the top lip of the exit and fluttered into the room, laughing in a very non-threatening way. They radiated a sense of innocent mischief, and my fear and anger subsided and gave way to annoyance. I whipped my right hand out and blasted a huge hole in the cavern wall to my right, startling Curly into a yelp. Unphased, I raised my voice and demanded, "Who is your King? I am John, son of Michael, and this is my daughter and she WILL NOT BE TOUCHED AGAIN."
The goblins scattered, their merriment giving way to concern that I might blast them into dust. Behind me, a deep chuckle seemed to rise from the ground itself. A voice echoed in the cavern, neither kind or cruel, full of what felt like wisdom, though that doesn't make sense in the waking world.
It spoke: "I am Eloxman, and I am their King." At hearing him announce his name, my head whipped around in the dream and in real life so hard that I woke immediately with a sprained neck that is still bothering me. I looked at my phone and saw that there were two minutes and fourteen seconds remaining in my ten minute window. I lay on the couch in shocked disbelief: Curly was in my dream, and someone had a name. As I replayed it over and over in my head, I realized that Eloxman was still speaking. I think he may have been preparing to provide the name of his father.
submitted by postdevs to SleepParalysisStories [link] [comments]
I was not sure where to share it. I added it and deleted it from a few subs. The only place it ended up was the creative writing sub, though.
And this appears to be the right spot! There are several themes but the hypnagogia is the focus. So it's quite long and probably no one reads it and that's fine. I just wanted to find somewhere to put it in case my experience could benefit someone.
⚠️ ⚠️ WARNING first part is scary and a bit gory... ⚠️ ⚠️
Childhood
The first time that I encountered sleep paralysis was when I was nine or ten. I woke up screaming, my mind gripped with the sensation of searing pain radiating from my left big toe. Though my mouth wasn't moving, I could hear my own blood-curdling cries, echoing through the darkness. An eerie orange glow spilled into the room, illuminating a sinister cauldron at the base of my bed, around which stood three squat witches. Their dark, smoky faces shifted and morphed constantly, eyes glowing red like embers recessed deeply into the shadows of their crawling flesh, jagged teeth gnashing along with their discordant laughter as roaches crawled from their mouths and disappeared into their black straw hair.Each witch held their own dainty knife and fork, shaking along with their trembling bony hands, and one was slicing expertly down the center of my big toe with the impossibly sharp blade of their knife. I struggled to move my arms and legs, feeling as though I had freedom of movement, but my physical body remained paralyzed. Unfathomable terror washed over me as I realized that I couldn't scream for help; my mom wouldn't hear me, and I was powerless to stop these witches from feasting on my toes.
I lay there, unable to break free from the oppressive paralysis, forced to endure the excruciating pain as my toes were sliced off and consumed. The air buzzed with the witches' terrifying, joyous laughter, as if they delighted in my agony more than the taste of my flesh. Eventually, my body in a full state of terror jarred itself awake, heart beating more wildly than I had ever experienced, my lungs struggling to gasp more than the tiniest breath. After perhaps a full minute of gathering myself, I drew a deep breath and screamed into the night.
My mother came, of course, but was unable to understand the depth and terror of my experience. Her own reality did not include anything close; for her, it was an exaggeration born of childhood fear, and she became exasperated after a time with my refusal to admit that it was a dream, despite being an extremely caring parent.
The witches appeared to me several times between the ages of 10 and 15, their ghastly faces returning to torment me with each episode of sleep paralysis. Every time, I would be trapped in that terrifying limbo, my body frozen while my mind drowned itself in screams of agony and horror. I knew that they would feast on my toes, the slicing of their knives relentless, inexorable. They would smack their lips and toast each other with my blood-covered flesh as I watched.
During those years, restless legs syndrome (RLS) also began to plague my nights. As soon as I began to drift off to sleep, a discomfort would arise in my legs, like there was a swarm of fat round beetles exploring, searching for an exit. A quick kick would settle it down, but it would rise again in a cycle of building tension, acutely uncomfortable climax, and brief relief of a second or two would follow before it began again. My mother, again meaning well but busy and unfamiliar with RLS, told me it was leg cramps and made me eat more banannas. This didn't help.
It became an increasing problem, stealing precious sleep that my young body needed to thrive. The frustration of RLS merged with the terror of a potential visit from the witches. Without medication, I would lose entire nights to the relentless discomfort.
By the age of 15, the sleep paralysis episodes had occurred at least 10 times, each leaving me with the gut-wrenching memory of being eaten alive that I would carry all the next day in my gut like a sack of bricks. As I lay sleeping, every single night, I wondered if they would visit, and braced myself for an encounter.
Early adulthood:
I can't remember how many times the witches visited before I finally stopped panicking. It was after countless God awful nights when I finally accepted that no matter how terrifying or painful the ordeal felt, I would be whole once it was over. I had survived the agony a hundred times before and could endure it again. One night, when the eerie glow of the cauldron illuminated their shifting faces, I felt a calm settle over me. I saw the witches, but for the first time, I wasn't afraid.They noticed my defiance, their laughter fading into an uneasy silence. Without fanfare, they stood up, collected their cauldron, and retreated into the darkness of my room. Though I still saw them occasionally at the foot of my bed, they became more present than threatening. Sometimes, at the start of an episode, they'd appear briefly before disappearing altogether. They had become inconsequential, and I couldn't even be sure if they were there half the time.
In my early 20s, I discovered that I could almost guarantee a bout of sleep paralysis simply by sleeping during the day. At first, nothing particularly unusual happened, but the paralysis always returned whenever I dozed off, particularly between the hours of 11am and 2pm. I was often sleeping during the day because by then, the restless legs syndrome (RLS) had grown so severe that many nights passed without sleep at all. My body felt like it was full of angry snakes now instead of beetles, desperate to escape. The sensation soon crept upward from my legs to my arms. The cycles of build up, climax, and agonizly brief relief increased in frequency and magnitude. I would often resort to sitting in the shower, flipping the water from icy cold to scalding hot all night, simply to keep myself alert enough to avoid the twitching and spasming until the blessed relief of dawn arrived.
With the daytime paralysis came a variety of hallucinations. Sometimes the witches stood at the foot of my bed, other times they'd disappear, leaving behind benign apparitions like tickling gnomes. There was nothing threatening about these visions, and I began to find a strange sense of comfort in them. I would relax into a dark place where I felt my own energy burning like a sun, present but without physical form. In this state, I felt euphoric, fully aware yet separate from myself. I started taking naps during the day and eagerly anticipated this odd experience.
Yet at night, my sleep remained troubled as RLS tormented me. Eventually, I began taking ropinirole to manage the symptoms, and it brought much-needed relief, helping me reclaim my nights and giving me several years of mostly not worrying about RLS unless I forgot to take my medicine, or the odd night where it bothered me but was still less severe.
New experiences:
I spent several years relishing those euphoric moments of peace, where I could feel the pure energy of being alive without a personal history or identity. In those moments, everything else faded away, and all that remained was a brilliant, infinite energy. My waking life was absorbed by study of comtemporary and historical teachings of non-duality, and with my family and progressing my career as a software developer. I was absorbing Eckhart Tolle and Gautama, Meister Eckhart and Seuhn Sang and integrating their teachings into my daily life. The feeling inside of me that reality ultimately made no sense had found an expression, and I dug in every waking moment for a clue as to the true nature of experience. Given this context, I especially looked forward to and found solace in the experience of being impersonal, boundless energy.In my late 20s, I also experienced a new type of sleep paralysis hallucination. One day it began that there were no visions or hallucinations; instead, I simply lay in a state of paralysis, aware of the room as a darkened and monochrome version of itself. I entertained myself by trying to move my arms and legs against the paralysis, and developed the idea that I had two bodies; my physical body lay on the bed, while my energetic body struggled and flailed. It was like my energy body could move separately, creating a phantom limb sensation. I felt my energy arms and legs extend out, yet my physical body lay still. As my energy body reached further from my physical self, it would snap back as if held by a rubber band.
Intrigued, I began experimenting with this phenomenon, managing to build enough momentum to "pop" out of my body one afternoon. Suddenly, I found myself looking down at my own sleeping form, resting on my back and breathing gently beside my wife, who was playing a game (probably Candy Crush) on her phone in the bed. It was surreal, and I wasn't sure whether I was hallucinating or truly perceiving my own body from a different perspective. Regardless, it was a revelation, and I felt a new sense of exploration as I gazed down at myself.
That first time, I found myself drifting through the house, checking on my two young stepdaughters as they slept. I had recently married, and it was a quiet weekend afternoon with everyone napping peacefully. Once satisfied, I ventured outside, where I took to the sky and flew around the neighborhood, spying on my neighbors. Though it felt like I was limited in speed, I seemingly had no constraints on the continuity of this hallucination. Everything appeared as a perfect physical representation of Earth, and I could travel without interruption.
The landscape was strikingly accurate, but it appeared in monochrome hues — grays, blacks, and whites — with no bright colors. Letters and numbers were unreadable, reduced to blurred nonsense. Despite these distortions, the sensation of soaring above the rolling hills and rooftops was pure euphoria. I sped along at hundreds of miles per hour, basking in the freedom of movement, and immersed in the stunning view that stretched out below me. There did seem to be some sort of very generous limit to how far I could travel, but I thoroughly explored within the boundaries for hundreds of miles around my home.
Over the years into my early 30s, I tried to pursue this opportunity of flight and exploration every chance I could. But during that time, my restless legs syndrome also became more relentless. In the past, no matter how agonizing the night had been, dawn would bring relief like a cold bath washing over me. I would sit outside and watch the sunrise, and the sensation of snakes slithering through my body would finally calm down, perhaps due to circadian rhythms and dopamine regulation. The cycles now began to climax in totally involuntary movement, spasms that caused me to tense my whole body and draw in a sharp breath every time. It would be 5 seconds of rapid buildup, spasm, a second or two of relief, repeat.
Eventually, even the dawn failed to provide respite, and I struggled during night or day whenever I relaxed too long or became even a bit drowsy. Napping became impossible, depriving me of the euphoric dreams I had learned to look forward to. I switched from ropinirole to pramipexole, hoping for relief. The medication helped me sleep five or six hours a night on good nights, but I still missed one or two nights of sleep entirely each week and rarely could nap during the day, because I took the medicine only a couple hours before bed.
Even though my restless legs syndrome worsened, one out of every ten times, I'd still manage to avoid twitching and drift into that state of peaceful paralysis during the day when I dozed off involuntarily. I gradually lost interest in pursuing out-of-body travel and instead sought every time the burning energy of the sun inside of me — the sensation of being infinitely powerful and formless simultaneously. I would retreat into this boundless feeling whenever I had the opportunity.
During these rare occasions when I could sleep during the day, I stumbled across a third type of experience. It felt like I was being sucked into space at impossible speeds, zooming past the planets of our solar system and beyond until I reached a darker patch of space. This spot seemed like a vast, corrugated sewer pipe that swallowed me whole. I rocketed through the universe, traveling at what could only be the speed of light. Eventually, I would break into the atmosphere of some unknown world, drifting down to its surface sometimes, others crashing painfully into terrain. Sometimes, I would hear a loud sound like an explosion in mid travel, and suddenly aterialize on another distant world without any sort of entrace.
These journeys were exhilarating, and each new landscape presented a mystery, revealing worlds unlike anything I'd ever seen.
The Traveling Years:
One of the first journeys I had involved zipping through space before drifting down through a hole in the top of a greenhouse. The world was painted in shades of orange and brown, its dirt swirling in powerful winds like clay cyclones. The greenhouse itself was dirty and grimy, almost opaque with crusted dirt, and filled with dense green plants — ivy and other dark green foliage that covered every inch inside. Outside, the orange sky churned with the swirling clay, making visibility nearly impossible.I made my way down a ladder and emerged outside, where I found a man and a boy standing beside a white pinto horse. They both wore hardened leather over rough potato sack-like clothing, their long hair dotted with bone jewelry, their noses and eyebrows profusely pierced with other fragments of bone adorned with feathers. The man seemed to be instructing the boy on something to do with the horse. I approached them cautiously, fully aware of my lucid dreaming state and retaining all my memories, reasoning, and thoughts. Everything about the scene was vivid, from the clay dust swirling around to the squinting struggle to see in the wind.
Unlike the man and the boy, I had no long hair, no mouth covering, and no leather visor shielding my face from the swirling clay-dust. As I tried to speak, it seemed like they couldn’t hear me, and I wondered if I might be invisible to them. Unconcerned, I reached out to pat the horse on its nose, but before I could make contact, the man swiftly drew a long knife from his belt and stabbed me. He struck again, and the intense pain and feeling of my own scalding hot blood streaming down my pants legs snapped me awake.
Not long after my experience in the greenhouse, I found myself learning more about the worlds I could explore, though the opportunities remained rare. One day, I was transported to a beautiful blue tropical world, crashing into the dunes of a pristine white beach. There, I encountered three women, each towering over me at seven or eight feet tall. Their long black hair framed their pale faces, with blood-red lips striking against their alabaster skin. But what stood out most were their fingernails — long and crimson, curling back upon themselves dozens of times like spiraling ribbons. They were two or three feet in length and added a surreal menace to their presence.
They asked me my name and the name of my father, along with other odd questions, and seemed absolutely intriqued with me. There was a certain sort of heavy molasses quality to their voices that was more than sound and impossible to describe. It had the effect of making me feel drowsy and stupid and slow to move.
As I stood there, they began touching me with their nails, tracing them across my body in elaborate, almost ritualistic patterns. I felt my energy drain with every stroke, a profound exhaustion seeping into my core. The sensation was so intense that I woke up feeling completely drained, my limbs heavy and my spirit sapped.
Another time, I appeared without explanation after my space travel in a cavern brimming with glowing fungi and luminescent crystals. I wasn't myself in this world but instead had taken the place of someone else. My father stood beside me, guiding me through the luminous landscape. He taught me how to identify the bizarre and fascinating flora surrounding us — lessons that etched themselves into my mind and last to this day despite the surreal, made-up nature of this world. The glowing crystals and fungi cast eerie shadows across the cavern walls as my father explained the properties and uses of each.
In real life, these experiences would last for about five to eight minutes, but in the dream realm, the passage of time was different. What seemed like mere minutes could stretch into hours or even days, and in rare cases, the dreams spanned much longer.
RLS becomes terrible:
I had a new busy career, an infant daughter, two active growing stepdaughters, and a wife with a hectic job, and I struggled hard through the years between 35 and 39. Each night was pure torture, as restless leg syndrome robbed me of sleep. Days of sleep deprivation left me barely functioning, often teetering on the edge of collapse while the disease gnawed away. The unrelenting discomfort made it impossible to fall asleep, even as my body craved rest. I had no choice but to continue, as I had yet to find a doctor that knew how to move past the ropinirole and pramipexole stage of treatment, and these medicines had almost entirely ceased to be effective for me. My love for my family drove me to conceal the intense effort that day to day living had become. I managed to keep up with my career by farming a prescription for Adderall. I don't have ADHD, so it had the effect on me of methamphetamine and allowed me to push through the God awful existence that life had become.The toll became overwhelming. I couldn't escape the agony, even after days of desperate attempts to sleep. More than once, I ended up in the emergency room after going four or five nights without sleep. For some people, this will seem like an exaggeration; I assure you, it is not. I would be nonsensical, having conversations with people tha weren't in the room, drifting in and out of intense 1 second dreams before snapping awake with painful spasms. At the hospital, they would give me percocet, and the painkillers provided brief reprieve from RLS for some reason, allowing me one solid night’s sleep, but the relentless cycle quickly resumed, leaving me struggling once again.
Eventually, I found a neurologist who prescribed Neupro patches that provided temporary relief. For a few months, I managed to sleep more consistently, but the patches quickly lost their effectiveness. It wasn't until I added methadone to the treatment that I finally found more lasting relief.
During those difficult years, I immersed myself in non-dual philosophy. In that crucible of suffering, my conviction solidified: my true nature was more aligned with the energy hallucinations I experienced than with a body made of skin, bone, and brain. That transcendent energy, more real and enduring than the physical form I occupied, became my identity in daily life, watching peacefully as my body and brain navigated the situational complexity of life.
Approaching my 40th birthday, I found that I could sleep at night and dream during the day. My life was in good shape, I lost 60 pounds without effort, and I felt fundamentally and imperturbably peaceful. Suddenly, life was in the palm of my hands, every moment pristine and still and perfect. I felt weightless without the burden of needing to endure trauma every night.
Most importantly to this story, I worked from home and could nap on my lunch breaks.
Rapid learning through iteration:
Rarely, I would fail to nap at all due to RLS. Sometimes I would simply doze off and wake up 10 minutes later to my cell phone alarm. But three out of five times, I would travel.I visited dozens of worlds in a matter of a few short months and quickly was able to confirm some rules that I had suspected were true from my previous adventures.
One rule is that no one I know in real life ever shows up in the travelling dreams. No matter the place or circumstance or strange beings that I encountered, there was never a familiar face.
Another rule was that no dream person ever had a name or a father. The absence of both seemed to be an unspoken universal truth among these dream world inhabitants. Once I had internalized the significance of this, I began introducing myself to most beings that I encountered as "John, son of Michael." It left a strong impression. My name and lineage seemed to set me apart, bestowing an almost mythical quality upon me that earned me a peculiar reverence among all that I met. This knowledge became the key to navigating the dream worlds with confidence and a consistent purpose of discovery.
I learned accidentally of a unique ability during my travels: a form of telekenesis that allowed me to project force from the palms of my hands. This development led to many episodes of paralysis spent ignoring exploration and instead hilariously and painfully attempting to master this ability for the purpose of travel. Over time, I refined my skill, learning to fly much like Iron Man, but solely through the focused propulsion from my hands. Without stabilization from my feet, I had to carefully control the angle of projection and the amount of force applied to control my trajectory and speed.
Mastering this ability took significant practice, but eventually, I could navigate obstacles with ease and travel great distances in short amounts of time. I also no longer crash landed, thankfully. Importantly, I could harness this power to overcome any threatening beings that I encountered. Previously, my best option was to hide or flee, and that did not always work out. Now I had this amazing sense of fearlessness and confidence that simply cannot be rivaled by real world experience. Every time I heard the buzzing sounds and felt the WUM WUM WUM of energy as I prepared to launch into space, I embraced the journey with eager anticipation, confident in my ability to protect myself and learn about whatever strange world awaited me.
To Present Day:
As I grew more confident in my ability to travel almost at will, I began to incorporate spirituality into my experimentation. One day, on a whim, I expressed to the universe that if there were a being that had my best interests at heart and loved me fully, then I gave them permission to guide my dreams and lead me to greater truths, even if they were uncomfortable. This openness led to a new experience immediately, and I began to preface many of my journeys with a similar, simple prayer.That first time, I fell down instead of up -- into myself, into the infinite dimensionless darkness where I could spin and burn and bathe in the euphoric sense of my own eternal nature. But my peace was quickly interrupted by an intense feeling of pressure at the base of my spine, though I couldn't have pinpointed where the body was that the spine inhabited. Very, very slowly, with a CRUNCHA CRUNCHA CRUNCHA noise for every milimeter of ground gained, it crawled upwards towards my head.
As it climbed, the energy below it intensified, growing exponenentially as the surface area covered grew. It wasn't painful, exactly, but it was terrifyingly intense. That first time, I managed to stay calm long enough for it to reach my shoulder blades before it became unbearably frightening and I jerked myself out of it, sure that I would die if I allowed it to continue upward. Over the last few months I have vowed to myself that I would endure any level of discomfort to see what happens at the end, but I keep chickening out. I have let it go as far as the base of my skull, at which time my head started vibrating so much that I could feel my teeth chattering violently even in my paralysis.
Another time recently when I made this prayer, I went to space as usual, but when I entered the atmosphere of a lush Earth-like world, my telekenesis failed me for the first time ever. Instead, I was pulled like in a slow tractor beam down beneath the perfectly round canopy of a giant, unfamiliar kind of tree. I felt a great sense of calm and peace and simply meditated there for quite some time, maybe 9 or 10 hours of relative time, before I heard a voice from behind the tree.
The man who stepped out from there had his face hidden in shadows. He wore a long dusty leather coat and a huge cowboy hat that shrouded him. As I write this, I find that I am not yet prepared to write about what he said to me, or how I responded. But when we had spoken, he walked solemnly over to me and lay his hand upon my head, and I jerked awake in a state of perfect bliss, despite some conflicting emotions surrounding our conversation. I call him Cowboy Hat Man, and maybe I will write more about him later.
A third time with the prayer, right before I sped off to my normal adventures, I felt a cat jump onto my bed and snuggle against my left leg, purring. It curled up there, and I assumed that it was my actual cat in real life, although it would be very uncharacteristic for him. I actually thought to myself, "Wow, I guess Buddy Socks is my spirit guide today." However, when I awoke, I realized that my door was shut and the cat was not in the room. On that trip, I went to a world that was reminiscent in quality perhaps to 15th century Europe, except on a world where the surface was far more underneath water than on Earth.
I followed the invisible cat to an old man and asked him, "Do you know the truth?" He answered, "No." I followed the invisble cat to young boy and asked him, "Do you know the truth?" He also answered, "No." It was an odd one, really.
Every time I do this, I am setting an alarm for ten minutes. Sometimes the dreams last days in relative time, but I have never yet failed to wake up before that alarm goes off.
Present Day (like seriously earlier this week is what me want to write this):
I lay down eagerly for my lunch break nap, hoping to avoid the disappointment of an off-day. I flew into the atmosphere of a world that seemed to made of rock, with nothing growing on the surface. However, I caught glimpse on the surface of a bright spot, and when I descended, I found that somehow there was a relatively thin crust of sorts around a hollow inside-world.I lowered myself slowly through a great opening in that crust, down into a lush jungle. It was beautiful but uncomfortably humid, and I quickly found a cool and dry cavern complex to explore rather than dealing with sweat and unfamiliar insects.
As I navigated through the cavern system, able to see somehow with dim light despite no obvious light source at times, I broke out into a very large open cave with a huge exit out into the jungle. I saw that it was dawn and realized that I had spent the night, however long it was on this world, in the caves.
Suddenly, my four year old daughter, Curly, with her naturally bleach-highlighted rings of long blonde hair and bright blue eyes, drifted slowly over my left shoulder and out towards the exit. She moved at a brisk adult walking pace, her back to the cave opening, her expression curious yet slightly concerned. She called out, "Dada?" in a tone that suggested wonder and slight confusion, but no real alarm in the presence of her father.
Reacting instantly, feeling my gut clench solid into a fist of rock, I used my telekinesis to close the gap between us and gathered her into my arms. She wrapped her legs around my waist and settled her butt onto my forearm, a ritual that we have practiced every day of her life. The force gripping her evaporated instantly, and suddenly, my darling girl was there in my arms, as real as any physical embrace. I could feel the tickle of her hair on my neck, the beautiful warmth of her skin, and was enveloped in her familiar scent.
Initially, I was filled with white hot rage, fueled by my instinctive reaction to the thought that some idiotic dream world inhabitant had decided to mess with my family and harm or kidnap her. But as I held her and she nuzzled her nose into my neck, the anger gave way to sheer amazement. For the first time in a decade of navigating these dreamscapes, someone that I knew from my waking life had entered the dream. This was a rule-defying moment that really rocked me, a serious breach of the established norms of these experiences.
A group of maybe 8 or 10 small winged goblins flew down from out of sight above the top lip of the exit and fluttered into the room, laughing in a very non-threatening way. They radiated a sense of innocent mischief, and my fear and anger subsided and gave way to annoyance. I whipped my right hand out and blasted a huge hole in the cavern wall to my right, startling Curly into a yelp. Unphased, I raised my voice and demanded, "Who is your King? I am John, son of Michael, and this is my daughter and she WILL NOT BE TOUCHED AGAIN."
The goblins scattered, their merriment giving way to concern that I might blast them into dust. Behind me, a deep chuckle seemed to rise from the ground itself. A voice echoed in the cavern, neither kind or cruel, full of what felt like wisdom, though that doesn't make sense in the waking world.
It spoke: "I am Eloxman, and I am their King." At hearing him announce his name, my head whipped around in the dream and in real life so hard that I woke immediately with a sprained neck that is still bothering me. I looked at my phone and saw that there were two minutes and fourteen seconds remaining in my ten minute window. I lay on the couch in shocked disbelief: Curly was in my dream, and someone had a name. As I replayed it over and over in my head, I realized that Eloxman was still speaking. I think he may have been preparing to provide the name of his father.
The End:
Sorry, that's actually it. I am going to just see if this continues somehow, but if it does not, then I might get creative with it and make up my own ending. I hope that you enjoyed this if you read this far!2024.05.11 17:15 Disastrous-Celery-99 Religion theory
Hi everyone, I was discussing with my friends about religions, and I heard a very interesting theory that I would love to hear more opinions about. Any new ideas are welcomed.
I believe in god but not belong to any religion so I will start base on the perspective that the universe doesn't come from nothing.
To start, let's say God created the whole universe. (I'll call him the Creator instead of God to avoid confusion later). Based on what a lot of people believe, this Creator would start from nothing and make everything. He probably will start by making an "area" with all the "angels," like how religion believes, then the first human...
So about the angels, one of them actually always has a problem with humans; he thinks he is better than them and looks down on them. (Let's call this Angel "Envy"). Since the Creator created everything, he actually has no reason to ask his creation to worship him. Think about making a puppet; why would you want a puppet to worship you? It makes more sense to just see them going around doing their own thing.
The theory starts when Envy has a clear motivation, to prove to the Creator that humans are less than him, not agreeing with the fact that they are both equal. And the Creator is just like: "Yeah okay, you can try to prove it to me if you want to." But probably they would have some sort of agreement on what Envy can and can't do.
Since he is one of the first few creations and lives where it is closer to the Creator, the angels would also have some powers, including Envy, of course. It wouldn't be too far-fetched to say Envy can do a lot of things that humans on earth cannot, as stated in a lot of religions.
So now, to prove to the Creator that Envy is better, what would stop him from manipulating these humans and having them worship him instead? He would talk to a few fellow humans, drop a book or two, and in that book create a system where you worship him as "god." If they don't follow, they will be threatened with hellfire, and if they do follow, he will promise them a reward after death. But this may be just a method to have them surrender their soul to Envy.
The book is a solid plan to make the humans worship Envy; the more humans he collects, the better it is. If you worship someone, that is literally directly admitting that you're less than them, aka proving the point.
This would explain why some reasons are so fixed on the idea of worshipping, using all types of manipulation methods to get people to believe in it?
If you know any discussion or any books that suggest the same thing, please let me know i would love to read more about it.
submitted by Disastrous-Celery-99 to DebateAnAtheist [link] [comments]
I believe in god but not belong to any religion so I will start base on the perspective that the universe doesn't come from nothing.
To start, let's say God created the whole universe. (I'll call him the Creator instead of God to avoid confusion later). Based on what a lot of people believe, this Creator would start from nothing and make everything. He probably will start by making an "area" with all the "angels," like how religion believes, then the first human...
So about the angels, one of them actually always has a problem with humans; he thinks he is better than them and looks down on them. (Let's call this Angel "Envy"). Since the Creator created everything, he actually has no reason to ask his creation to worship him. Think about making a puppet; why would you want a puppet to worship you? It makes more sense to just see them going around doing their own thing.
The theory starts when Envy has a clear motivation, to prove to the Creator that humans are less than him, not agreeing with the fact that they are both equal. And the Creator is just like: "Yeah okay, you can try to prove it to me if you want to." But probably they would have some sort of agreement on what Envy can and can't do.
Since he is one of the first few creations and lives where it is closer to the Creator, the angels would also have some powers, including Envy, of course. It wouldn't be too far-fetched to say Envy can do a lot of things that humans on earth cannot, as stated in a lot of religions.
So now, to prove to the Creator that Envy is better, what would stop him from manipulating these humans and having them worship him instead? He would talk to a few fellow humans, drop a book or two, and in that book create a system where you worship him as "god." If they don't follow, they will be threatened with hellfire, and if they do follow, he will promise them a reward after death. But this may be just a method to have them surrender their soul to Envy.
The book is a solid plan to make the humans worship Envy; the more humans he collects, the better it is. If you worship someone, that is literally directly admitting that you're less than them, aka proving the point.
This would explain why some reasons are so fixed on the idea of worshipping, using all types of manipulation methods to get people to believe in it?
If you know any discussion or any books that suggest the same thing, please let me know i would love to read more about it.
2024.05.11 17:11 Funk_street Bought protection but was refused it
I rented a luxury car through Turo on a vacation with my girlfriend. I paid for the Turo premier protection plan to avoid having to file with my personal auto insurance if anything were to happen. For what it's worth, I do have full coverage which extends to rentals on my personal auto policy, but there's a $250 deductible and it will raise my rates if I file an accident.
Well, someone clipped the car while we were parked and eating at a fancy restaurant. Came out to discover minor cosmetic damage but it was visible.
Turo refused to cover my claim "because I have my own insurance". So after months of back and forth I was forced to file with my personal insurance despite taking out the premium protection through Turo.
Now the host wants to be fully reimbursed for their out of pocket fees because Turo filed a claim with my insurance but never submitted the car for repairs.
I'm being taken to small claims court out of state by the host despite filing with my insurance and purchasing the Turo premier plan.
Wtf?!?!
submitted by Funk_street to turo [link] [comments]
Well, someone clipped the car while we were parked and eating at a fancy restaurant. Came out to discover minor cosmetic damage but it was visible.
Turo refused to cover my claim "because I have my own insurance". So after months of back and forth I was forced to file with my personal insurance despite taking out the premium protection through Turo.
Now the host wants to be fully reimbursed for their out of pocket fees because Turo filed a claim with my insurance but never submitted the car for repairs.
I'm being taken to small claims court out of state by the host despite filing with my insurance and purchasing the Turo premier plan.
Wtf?!?!