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2023.03.22 13:26 static444 Girlfriends mom asking for money
So it’s a long story just asking for input on the situation so i met my girlfriend and she lived with her mom at her dads house. Pretty much her dad was abusive and a very angry guy he moved out of the house but my girlfriend and her mom stayed living there he would harass her mom going into the house at time destroying her stuff he even came at me somewhat he drew on my car once because i was parked in a spot he didn't like stuff like that. we including her mom ended up moving out and renting a place because her dad was too much we all split rent 3 ways. I’ve been working hard since i got out of high school and I’m prepared to buy a place and me and my girlfriend want to move out on our own. The only thing is that her mom wanted to move in with us on our next place which we don’t want. she claims she can’t afford rent. She works two jobs making money that she can afford it but she must recklessly spend her money. I do know she’s at the casino a lot. She wants 200 from her two daughters and she’s planning on taking them off her insurance so she can live she claims all she can afford is $450 for rent which if she could save her money, rent in general shouldn’t be a problem. This has my girlfriend and her sister upset but it sounds like they might end up doing it. I keep telling my girlfriend its not her problem and she shouldn’t have to pay for her mother she has her own life she’s a young adult trying to save money and its not her problem that her mom recklessly spends her money. From my perspective she’s just doesn’t want to make life changes so she’s just trying to pawn her situation off on her daughters. We tell her she needs to get a better job but when we say that she gets very offended and says she wont. We even tried to get her signed up for government money but the government wont give her anything no church either. we tried to help her out but its at the point where this is getting ridiculous and personally upsetting me even though im really not much involved in the situation. So i‘m just looking for feedback from people about the situation what we could possibly do or say to her mom and what my girlfriend and her sister should do. Thanks.
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2023.03.22 13:26 Vipin_writescopy Anyone wanna Collab? (would love to chat)
If you're a webtoon artist and don't currently have a story in your mind but wanna start a webtoon nonetheless, Here's the first chapter of my short story: (if you wanna Collab or illustrate it, I would love to chat)
A hundred eyes stared at him. Kurin kept his pace. He scurried on the rutted alley toward his hut. His legs and arms ached after fishing, yes, but the admonitory peeping didn't let him slow down. He could feel the eyes of his neighbors, scrutinizing him like prey. Their stares had been getting more upfront and perturbing as the days passed. He bowed his head, reaching nearer to his hut. His arm ached as it clasped the fish from its tale, so he placed it on his shoulder. He could only catch one fish today, yet it was bigger than any he had ever caught. He hauled the door and trod inside. It was smaller than others huts in his quarter of the village, but it was enough for two. It had a hollow in the wall for daylight, a pitcher, and his tools. He placed the fishing rod with a soft hand, as he looked down. His little sister, Hirin, snored as she slept spreadeagled on the layer of straw. He knelt beside her. Straw crunched beneath his knees, as he held the fish overhead her face. He whistled softly. She opened her eyes listlessly, then yelped as her realization came. She jerked her body to the mud wall, and moments later giggled. Kurin smiled. “It's bigger than me!” Her eyes widened with amusement. “Because it ate more than you,” “Will I be bigger than you if I eat more?” She grinned. “You didn’t know that?” “Then I could go fishing with you” He stood up smiling, “Have you gathered sticks for fire?” “Yes!” “Wet?” “Yes!” He gave her a silly look. “Dry,” She grinned. He smiled, “Come, let's teach you to cook, today,” “Really?” She jumped to her feet and scurried behind him.
“Turn it around,” Kurin directed his little sister as she clenched the stick of fish over the fire. He had to pare the fish in two pieces as it was too heavy for Hirin to hold. He rolled his fish too; it was nearly cooked. The smell of cooked fish mingled with smoke. He liked that smell. He squinted as the smoke itched in his eyes. “Here, give me that,” He switched his half with his sister. He could tell it by the smell that Hirin had burnt it, “You did well,”
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A hundred eyes stared at him. Kurin kept his pace. He scurried on the rutted alley toward his hut. His legs and arms ached after fishing, yes, but the admonitory peeping didn't let him slow down. He could feel the eyes of his neighbors, scrutinizing him like prey. Their stares had been getting more upfront and perturbing as the days passed. He bowed his head, reaching nearer to his hut. His arm ached as it clasped the fish from its tale, so he placed it on his shoulder. He could only catch one fish today, yet it was bigger than any he had ever caught. He hauled the door and trod inside. It was smaller than others huts in his quarter of the village, but it was enough for two. It had a hollow in the wall for daylight, a pitcher, and his tools. He placed the fishing rod with a soft hand, as he looked down. His little sister, Hirin, snored as she slept spreadeagled on the layer of straw. He knelt beside her. Straw crunched beneath his knees, as he held the fish overhead her face. He whistled softly. She opened her eyes listlessly, then yelped as her realization came. She jerked her body to the mud wall, and moments later giggled. Kurin smiled. “It's bigger than me!” Her eyes widened with amusement. “Because it ate more than you,” “Will I be bigger than you if I eat more?” She grinned. “You didn’t know that?” “Then I could go fishing with you” He stood up smiling, “Have you gathered sticks for fire?” “Yes!” “Wet?” “Yes!” He gave her a silly look. “Dry,” She grinned. He smiled, “Come, let's teach you to cook, today,” “Really?” She jumped to her feet and scurried behind him.
“Turn it around,” Kurin directed his little sister as she clenched the stick of fish over the fire. He had to pare the fish in two pieces as it was too heavy for Hirin to hold. He rolled his fish too; it was nearly cooked. The smell of cooked fish mingled with smoke. He liked that smell. He squinted as the smoke itched in his eyes. “Here, give me that,” He switched his half with his sister. He could tell it by the smell that Hirin had burnt it, “You did well,”
“Kurin?” She said after some time. “Hm?” “Why Don't We eat with the others anymore?” He didn't want to hide it from her anymore, “Have you noticed something strange about them?” “I don't understand,” He didn't want to scare her either. He sighed, “They have been looking at me differently. like I've committed some sin.” “But they took us into their village. They gave us a home. They're good people, Kurin,” Her face grew apprehensive, “They are, right?” “I don't know, Hirin,” Kurin sighed, “Something just isn't right with this village.” Now she looked scared, “I miss father, Kurin. And mother, too” “I miss them too,” “Do you believe she is alive,” “Yes, she is. I know it,” His father had once told him that, “The raiders take women. They don't kill them.” She nodded. The fire had died, and only ember remained. Its warmth dwindling. Hirin shivered. “Go and sleep,” He said, “I'm coming.” She nodded again, and left. Kurin looked up. The night was cold, and moonless, with the stars less than the number of hair on a bald man’s head. It was an alike night when they came. Kurin and his sister had been sleeping in their hut when the tumult had woken him up. He had looked over at his parents’ empty bed, “Father is still in carouse?” yet something was uncanny. His mother was absent too, and she had loathed carouse. Kurin had jerked his head to specifically nowhere when the turmoil suddenly grew louder. There were shouts, and squalls, and . . . screams? His heart started racing. He moved to his feet and strode toward the door. He suddenly halted. He inhaled a deep breath. There was smoke in the air. He rushed to the door. A raid? He thought. The door ripped open before he could reach it, and his mother fell to the floor. She was gasping in agony. Her robe was torn. Her right thigh was dripping blood from where a spearhead was stuck. She was clutching onto a roll of cloth. “Mother?” He dropped beside her, “What happened to you? Where is father?” She cried in pain as she dropped the cloth. “What is it, mother?” He took it and unfurled it. It was a hand. His father’s hand. Flesh dangled to the tapering bone that jutted out from its wrist. Kurin cringed away. A stream of tears ran down his cheeks. “Listen, Kurin. KURIN!” She groaned. “Yes, I'm listening,” “Where . . . is . . . Hirin?” She gasped. “She’s sleeping right there,” He pointed his finger toward a corner of the hut. And then glanced back. Hirin was hunching with her knees to her chest. Horror-struck. His mother lifted her trembling arm for her, “Come here,” Hirin did not move for a moment, then stood up and shuffled towards her. She had a feeble look as if she didn't know her mother anymore. Tysha gave a wan smile as she raised her quivering arm and brushed her daughter’s hair from her forehead, “go—” She winched, “. . .with your brother,” “Are you okay?” Hirin asked, suddenly sobbing. Her mother did not reply. She looked at Kurin, “North. Cross . . . Narrow River. Now!” The screams were getting louder, and he could distinguish raiders’ curses. They were near. Kurin nodded, and slid his arms beneath his mother’s neck and knees. She cried in pain, “What are you doing?” “I'm not going without you,” “Listen—” she winced, “I saw . . . Those savages . . . one of them . . . hacked Dina’s head with a sword.” She gasped, “she was younger than . . . than Hirin. You have to go. Without me!” Kurin froze, then grabbed his sister's hand as she wept. He stepped outside the hut. The Village was a field of fire. A few dead bodies lay on the streets. Savages, on horses, knocking down the doors of huts. Kurin tightened his grip around his sister’s hand, and gave her mother a final glance. “Protect her, Rin,” she murmured.
2023.03.22 13:26 AnderLouis_ Hail and Farewell (George Moore) - Chapter 7.1
PODCAST: https://ayearofwarandpeace.podbean.com/e/ep1511-hail-and-farewell-george-moore-ave-chapter-71/
PROMPTS: Are we entirely certain we are reading Book 1?
Today's Reading, via Project Gutenberg:
There is no saying that Rothenburg might not produce another Cranach, or, better still, another Luther. And you would not mind sacrificing some red roofs to save Europe from another heresy.
Edward did not like my remark. It proved my soul, he said, a shallow one, for whenever I was being cornered in an argument I tried to banter my way out.
Continue, my dear friend; but I don't see your point.
Nor do I see yours, he answered—I thought somewhat testily. Rothenburg is a Gothic town, and you don't approve of the Gothic. Is your proposal to turn the people out of Rothenburg and keep the place as a museum? You wouldn't destroy it, I suppose?
Destroy it! No, I answered. But if it can be shown that medieval surroundings are not altogether a healthy influence upon children, do you not think that some opportunity should be given to them for contrasting the old with the new, and that some part of the town, for instance, should be modernised?
It is possible that the reader will think that I was rather tiresome that day, but so was the train, and to while away the time there was no resource but to raise the question whether Rothenburg would have produced the same Edward as Galway. But the question did not succeed in provoking any of those psychological admissions that make him so agreeable a travelling companion. He was not in a communicative mood that afternoon, and to draw him out I was obliged to remind him that Bavaria is Protestant and Catholic, and strangely intermixed, for the two sects use the same church—service at eleven and Mass at twelve.
And you might have been brought up a Protestant, Edward, or half and half.
A grave look came into his face, and he answered that if he hadn't been brought up a Catholic, and severely, he might have gone to pieces altogether; and I sat pondering the very interesting question whether Edward would have done better as a Protestant than as a Catholic. Every man knows himself better than any one else can know him, and Edward seemed to think that he needed a stay. Perhaps so, but there is a vein of thought—perhaps I should say of feeling—in him which Catholicism seems to me to have restrained, and which Protestantism, I like to think, would have encouraged. The effect of religion upon character was worth considering, and as there was nothing else to do in the train I set myself to think the matter out.
But it is hard to set bounds on one's thoughts, and mine suddenly turned from Edward, and I found myself wondering if the great genius towards whom we were faring could have written The Ring in Rothenburg. Now this was a question which had to be put to Edward, and at once, and he applied himself to it, pointing out that Bayreuth was nearly as quaint and slumberous as Rothenburg, yet Wagner had written part of The Ring in Bayreuth. True that he had written parts of it all over Europe; some of it was written in Switzerland, some in Italy, some even in Dorset Square.
But if he had been born in Rothenburg and had never left it—
The noise of the train prevented me from catching his answer, and leaning back in my seat, I fell to thinking of the extraordinary joy and interest that Bayreuth had been in my life ever since Edward and I went there for the first time at the beginning of the 'nineties, after hearing a performance of The Ring in London.
It had been the horns announcing the Rhine that re-awakened my musical conscience. The melodies of my own country I had never heard. Offenbach and Hervé stirred me to music when we went to live in London, and I carried to Paris all their little tunes in my head. Painters are often more or less musicians: one such drifted into our studio, and he introduced me to the Circle des Merlitons, where I heard Haydn, Beethoven, Mozart. Classical music ousted operette without difficulty; and as long as there were musical friends about, music was followed with as much interest as could be spared from the art of painting. But when the maladministration of my affairs called me from Paris to Ireland musical interests disappeared with my French friends; they were driven underground when agrarian outrages compelled me to consider the possibility of earning my living. The only way open to me was literature, so I went to London to learn to write, as has been told in a chapter in an earlier book.
In London literature and poverty absorbed me for several years, and I had forgotten music altogether when Edward asked me if I would go to hear The Rhinegold. I had consented, regretting my promise almost as soon as it was given, for Wagner was reputed unmelodious and difficult to all except the most erudite, and fearing that I should be bored for several hours by sounds which would mean nothing to me, I began to seek for excuses, and to ask Edward if he could not dispose of the ticket he had taken for me. He could not do this, and as my plaints did not cease, he said to me, as we walked up King's Bench Walk:
Well, there's no use your coming. All my pleasure will be spoilt.
The dark theatre reminded me of the rooms at exhibitions in which bad pictures are exhibited, no light showing anywhere except on the picture itself; but the moment the horns gave out the theme of the Rhine my attention was arrested, and a few minutes after it was clear that new birth awaited me. A day or two later I heard Tristan, and it so happened that there were performances at Bayreuth that year, so Edward and I went there together, and we have gone there many times since, each visit awakening every little musical faculty in me, and developing it; and though nothing can be created, a seed can be developed prodigiously, and a taste likewise, if the soil be fertile and circumstances fortunate. They were certainly favourable to my picking up this lost interest. Edward is a true melamonaic, loving all good music, and ready to travel anywhere to hear music; then there is Dujardin, who is always talking to me about music; his friends are musicians and whenever I go to Paris I am with musicians, talking about music when not listening to it, and once again my life began to unfold in a musical atmosphere. To feel one's life unfolding is joy. Life should never cease to unfold, and it will be time enough for Death to lower the banner when the last stitch of canvas is reached.
Now I was going to Bayreuth again, determined to understand The Ring a little better than heretofore. But was this possible? I can learn until somebody tries to teach me; all the same every man is at tether, and lying back in my seat in the train from Rothenburg, a little weary of conversation with Edward, I relinquished myself to regrets that my ear only allows me to hear the surface of the music, the motives which float up to the top, the transforming effect of a chord upon a melodic phrase. I can hear that Wagner's melodies arise naturally one out of the other. If I could not hear that every melody in Tristan rises out of the one that preceded it, Wagner would have written in vain, so far as I was concerned. My ear is but rudimentary, an ear that will seem like no ear to those who can hear the whole orchestra together and in detail, seeing in their mind's eye the notes that every instrument is playing. It is well to have their ears, but mere ear will not carry anybody very far; to appreciate music an intelligence is necessary; and those who are not gifted with too much ear can hear the music oftener than those who can read it. Last year in Paris Dukas told me he would not go to hear some music with me because he had read it, and having once read a piece of music there was nothing left in it for him.
So essentially human is Wagner that there is something in his art for everybody, something in his music for me, and a great deal for musicians; and besides the music, some part of which everybody except the tone-deaf can hear, there are the dramas, wonderful in conception and literary art; for him gifted with imagination there are scenes in The Ring as beautiful as any in Shakespeare; and were Dujardin pressed to state his real feeling on the subject he would affirm that nothing has been written in words as moving as the scene in which Brünnhilde tells Siegmund that Wotan is calling him to Valhalla. Not the music, Dujardin cries—it is not the music that counts, but the words. The music is beautiful, of course it is—it couldn't be else; but so intensely aware was Wagner of the poetry that he allowed it to transpire.
One can think about Dujardin and Wagner without the time appearing long; and I had forgotten a very important matter about which there had been a great deal of correspondence, till I was suddenly reminded of it by a slackening in the speed of the train.
At the time I am writing of, Bayreuth was an uncomfortable town to live in; it has changed a good deal within the last ten years, and in the twentieth century we get better food in the restaurants than we did in the nineteenth; bathrooms have begun to appear, the fly-haunted privy is nearly extinct, and this was the important matter that the slackening of the train's speed had reminded me of. We had written many letters, and had many interviews with the agent who apportions out the lodgings, and my last words had been to him, A clean privy! He had promised that he would see to it, but from the direction in which the coachman was driving us, it would seem that the desirable accommodation was not procurable in the town. It was Edward who noticed that our coachman was heading straight for the country, and standing up in the carriage, he began to expostulate—ineffectually, however, for Edward's German is limited and the driver only laughed, pointing with a whip towards a hillside facing the theatre, and there we saw a villa embowered and overlooking a corn-field, a lodging so delightful that I could not but feel interested in Edward's objection to it.
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PROMPTS: Are we entirely certain we are reading Book 1?
Today's Reading, via Project Gutenberg:
VII
Though we could find nothing of interest to say about Rothenburg, we did not wish to leave the town in a slighting silence, so I asked Edward if he thought that living among medieval aspects influenced the children playing, and if it were possible to feel sure that the Rothenburg mind could be as effective in modern life as the Berlin, or the Carlsbad, or the Dresden? Edward replied that he did not know or care whether it would be as effective, but was quite sure that life in a medieval town could not fail to produce a beautiful mind, and a long discussion sprang up between us, I maintaining that it were better to live in a modern town like Düsseldorf, in which there is only one picture—Holbein's Holy Family—then to live in a medieval town like Rothenburg, where there are only roofs and lanterns; Edward declaring that art is traditional, and where there is no tradition there can be no art, and, though it was not likely that Rothenburg would produce an impressionist painter—There is no saying that Rothenburg might not produce another Cranach, or, better still, another Luther. And you would not mind sacrificing some red roofs to save Europe from another heresy.
Edward did not like my remark. It proved my soul, he said, a shallow one, for whenever I was being cornered in an argument I tried to banter my way out.
Continue, my dear friend; but I don't see your point.
Nor do I see yours, he answered—I thought somewhat testily. Rothenburg is a Gothic town, and you don't approve of the Gothic. Is your proposal to turn the people out of Rothenburg and keep the place as a museum? You wouldn't destroy it, I suppose?
Destroy it! No, I answered. But if it can be shown that medieval surroundings are not altogether a healthy influence upon children, do you not think that some opportunity should be given to them for contrasting the old with the new, and that some part of the town, for instance, should be modernised?
It is possible that the reader will think that I was rather tiresome that day, but so was the train, and to while away the time there was no resource but to raise the question whether Rothenburg would have produced the same Edward as Galway. But the question did not succeed in provoking any of those psychological admissions that make him so agreeable a travelling companion. He was not in a communicative mood that afternoon, and to draw him out I was obliged to remind him that Bavaria is Protestant and Catholic, and strangely intermixed, for the two sects use the same church—service at eleven and Mass at twelve.
And you might have been brought up a Protestant, Edward, or half and half.
A grave look came into his face, and he answered that if he hadn't been brought up a Catholic, and severely, he might have gone to pieces altogether; and I sat pondering the very interesting question whether Edward would have done better as a Protestant than as a Catholic. Every man knows himself better than any one else can know him, and Edward seemed to think that he needed a stay. Perhaps so, but there is a vein of thought—perhaps I should say of feeling—in him which Catholicism seems to me to have restrained, and which Protestantism, I like to think, would have encouraged. The effect of religion upon character was worth considering, and as there was nothing else to do in the train I set myself to think the matter out.
But it is hard to set bounds on one's thoughts, and mine suddenly turned from Edward, and I found myself wondering if the great genius towards whom we were faring could have written The Ring in Rothenburg. Now this was a question which had to be put to Edward, and at once, and he applied himself to it, pointing out that Bayreuth was nearly as quaint and slumberous as Rothenburg, yet Wagner had written part of The Ring in Bayreuth. True that he had written parts of it all over Europe; some of it was written in Switzerland, some in Italy, some even in Dorset Square.
But if he had been born in Rothenburg and had never left it—
The noise of the train prevented me from catching his answer, and leaning back in my seat, I fell to thinking of the extraordinary joy and interest that Bayreuth had been in my life ever since Edward and I went there for the first time at the beginning of the 'nineties, after hearing a performance of The Ring in London.
It had been the horns announcing the Rhine that re-awakened my musical conscience. The melodies of my own country I had never heard. Offenbach and Hervé stirred me to music when we went to live in London, and I carried to Paris all their little tunes in my head. Painters are often more or less musicians: one such drifted into our studio, and he introduced me to the Circle des Merlitons, where I heard Haydn, Beethoven, Mozart. Classical music ousted operette without difficulty; and as long as there were musical friends about, music was followed with as much interest as could be spared from the art of painting. But when the maladministration of my affairs called me from Paris to Ireland musical interests disappeared with my French friends; they were driven underground when agrarian outrages compelled me to consider the possibility of earning my living. The only way open to me was literature, so I went to London to learn to write, as has been told in a chapter in an earlier book.
In London literature and poverty absorbed me for several years, and I had forgotten music altogether when Edward asked me if I would go to hear The Rhinegold. I had consented, regretting my promise almost as soon as it was given, for Wagner was reputed unmelodious and difficult to all except the most erudite, and fearing that I should be bored for several hours by sounds which would mean nothing to me, I began to seek for excuses, and to ask Edward if he could not dispose of the ticket he had taken for me. He could not do this, and as my plaints did not cease, he said to me, as we walked up King's Bench Walk:
Well, there's no use your coming. All my pleasure will be spoilt.
The dark theatre reminded me of the rooms at exhibitions in which bad pictures are exhibited, no light showing anywhere except on the picture itself; but the moment the horns gave out the theme of the Rhine my attention was arrested, and a few minutes after it was clear that new birth awaited me. A day or two later I heard Tristan, and it so happened that there were performances at Bayreuth that year, so Edward and I went there together, and we have gone there many times since, each visit awakening every little musical faculty in me, and developing it; and though nothing can be created, a seed can be developed prodigiously, and a taste likewise, if the soil be fertile and circumstances fortunate. They were certainly favourable to my picking up this lost interest. Edward is a true melamonaic, loving all good music, and ready to travel anywhere to hear music; then there is Dujardin, who is always talking to me about music; his friends are musicians and whenever I go to Paris I am with musicians, talking about music when not listening to it, and once again my life began to unfold in a musical atmosphere. To feel one's life unfolding is joy. Life should never cease to unfold, and it will be time enough for Death to lower the banner when the last stitch of canvas is reached.
Now I was going to Bayreuth again, determined to understand The Ring a little better than heretofore. But was this possible? I can learn until somebody tries to teach me; all the same every man is at tether, and lying back in my seat in the train from Rothenburg, a little weary of conversation with Edward, I relinquished myself to regrets that my ear only allows me to hear the surface of the music, the motives which float up to the top, the transforming effect of a chord upon a melodic phrase. I can hear that Wagner's melodies arise naturally one out of the other. If I could not hear that every melody in Tristan rises out of the one that preceded it, Wagner would have written in vain, so far as I was concerned. My ear is but rudimentary, an ear that will seem like no ear to those who can hear the whole orchestra together and in detail, seeing in their mind's eye the notes that every instrument is playing. It is well to have their ears, but mere ear will not carry anybody very far; to appreciate music an intelligence is necessary; and those who are not gifted with too much ear can hear the music oftener than those who can read it. Last year in Paris Dukas told me he would not go to hear some music with me because he had read it, and having once read a piece of music there was nothing left in it for him.
So essentially human is Wagner that there is something in his art for everybody, something in his music for me, and a great deal for musicians; and besides the music, some part of which everybody except the tone-deaf can hear, there are the dramas, wonderful in conception and literary art; for him gifted with imagination there are scenes in The Ring as beautiful as any in Shakespeare; and were Dujardin pressed to state his real feeling on the subject he would affirm that nothing has been written in words as moving as the scene in which Brünnhilde tells Siegmund that Wotan is calling him to Valhalla. Not the music, Dujardin cries—it is not the music that counts, but the words. The music is beautiful, of course it is—it couldn't be else; but so intensely aware was Wagner of the poetry that he allowed it to transpire.
One can think about Dujardin and Wagner without the time appearing long; and I had forgotten a very important matter about which there had been a great deal of correspondence, till I was suddenly reminded of it by a slackening in the speed of the train.
At the time I am writing of, Bayreuth was an uncomfortable town to live in; it has changed a good deal within the last ten years, and in the twentieth century we get better food in the restaurants than we did in the nineteenth; bathrooms have begun to appear, the fly-haunted privy is nearly extinct, and this was the important matter that the slackening of the train's speed had reminded me of. We had written many letters, and had many interviews with the agent who apportions out the lodgings, and my last words had been to him, A clean privy! He had promised that he would see to it, but from the direction in which the coachman was driving us, it would seem that the desirable accommodation was not procurable in the town. It was Edward who noticed that our coachman was heading straight for the country, and standing up in the carriage, he began to expostulate—ineffectually, however, for Edward's German is limited and the driver only laughed, pointing with a whip towards a hillside facing the theatre, and there we saw a villa embowered and overlooking a corn-field, a lodging so delightful that I could not but feel interested in Edward's objection to it.
2023.03.22 13:26 qqqqqqqqppppppp Taking care of a very specific patient at home.
Hello everyone, I am a RN myself and I am making at home visitis for this one really specific patient [65M] so I would like to discuss some things with everyone and get some advice because its hard to google and research things for a person this specific. I have been taking care of this person for around 2 weeks now, they had some type of larynx cancer and had their larynx removed and now they carry tracheostomy tube, they also have an open wound from the operation at the right side of their neck, and among other thing they had brain stroke and now they can't move their right hand and leg. My job is to visit him once a day, change the wound dressing, change tracheostomy cannula, change and take care of nasogastric tube, and help his family change his clothes and look for other things about the patient that need to be adressed and taken care of. Now, I have few questions regarding some things that came up: 1. This person usually and naturaly lays with their head tilted towards left side and recently they developed eyelid edema only on that side they tilt their head towards. I was wondering if it would be okay to put ice or cold saline in a glove and place it on that eyelid for 20 minutes or so. Would that solve that problem? 2. Around the operational wound that's on the side of the neck theres necrotic tissue and that is not a huge problem because wound is redressed few times in a day, but recently some kind of absceses started forming on that necrotic tisse, and I am not really sure what those are and what to do about them? 3. Patient's tongue is really swollen, and theres alot of mucus constantly comming out (its probably comming from that wound, because wound connects to everything else). We constantly clean the toungue and thats not a problem, but I'm wondering what could we do about the toungue being swollen?
If you have any reccomendations about these issues I mentioned please do say so, and if you have some other ideas or concerns please write to me.
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If you have any reccomendations about these issues I mentioned please do say so, and if you have some other ideas or concerns please write to me.
2023.03.22 13:25 Ambitious_Shallot597 [Hiring] Looking for a virtual assistant
I'm hiring a virtual assistant. No experience is required, but there are a few requirements. - Must live in USA - Basic knowledge about software as a user. - Age: 25-45 - Only male The base salary is $500 per month but there will be bonus if you do well. Please send me a message if you are interested.
PS: - It's not a regular company job, just personal one. - Sorry for female candidates but it's not for you. There is a reason. You can think that I have a jealous wife.
submitted by Ambitious_Shallot597 to hiring [link] [comments]
PS: - It's not a regular company job, just personal one. - Sorry for female candidates but it's not for you. There is a reason. You can think that I have a jealous wife.
2023.03.22 13:25 Ok_Efficiency_3750 Travailler en freelance pendant un PVT
Bonjour à tous,
Je pense partir en PVT en Corée du Sud fin 2023/début 2024. Je me penche actuellement sur la question du budget une fois sur le sol coréen.
J'ai un Master en traduction et j'ai une expérience préalable dans ce domaine. Aussi j'aimerais effectuer des missions de traduction en freelance lors de mon séjour à l'étranger pour pouvoir (au moins en partie) subvenir financièrement à mes besoins.
J'ai plusieurs questions à ce sujet :
-Est-ce possible, et si oui, dans quel pays dois-je domicilier mon auto entreprise? -Si mon entreprise est domiciliée en France, vais-je payer uniquement les impôt français, ou je dois aussi déclarer en Corée? -Quand on part en PVT en Corée, il y a un nombre limité d'heures de travail sur le territoire (25 heures ici). Les heures de freelance compteront-elles dans ces 25 heures? Ou puis-je cumuler avec un petit job sur place?
Je vous remercie d'avance pour vos réponses.
submitted by Ok_Efficiency_3750 to vosfinances [link] [comments]
Je pense partir en PVT en Corée du Sud fin 2023/début 2024. Je me penche actuellement sur la question du budget une fois sur le sol coréen.
J'ai un Master en traduction et j'ai une expérience préalable dans ce domaine. Aussi j'aimerais effectuer des missions de traduction en freelance lors de mon séjour à l'étranger pour pouvoir (au moins en partie) subvenir financièrement à mes besoins.
J'ai plusieurs questions à ce sujet :
-Est-ce possible, et si oui, dans quel pays dois-je domicilier mon auto entreprise? -Si mon entreprise est domiciliée en France, vais-je payer uniquement les impôt français, ou je dois aussi déclarer en Corée? -Quand on part en PVT en Corée, il y a un nombre limité d'heures de travail sur le territoire (25 heures ici). Les heures de freelance compteront-elles dans ces 25 heures? Ou puis-je cumuler avec un petit job sur place?
Je vous remercie d'avance pour vos réponses.
2023.03.22 13:25 azureseagraffiti Mildlynomil overstates cleaning she does
So my mil- she’s a mildlynomil. The main problem I have with her is that she stays with me and SO and is not the cleanest person to live with. just a rant..
Whenever she cooks for herself or her friends she leaves grease, crumbs and water pooling at the counters or oily dishes. Each time I find flour, grease, water all over.
Fed up.. i’ve taken to pointing out a few things that she needed to clean better - since we all share the kitchen. Keep in mind- she is a retiree and we only give her 2 jobs: laundry (which she asked to do) and to clean up after herself after she makes any mess. I think it’s pretty reasonable. We don’t ask her to cook.
However, she gets pretty defensive and goes into a laundry list of chores she does for the kitchen- taking care no particles get around (wiping i guess), vacuuming (maybe 1 a week?) and moping (i have the help for that), removing dishes from dish dryer, clean area where mixers are (wiping counters again?), clean fridge door (never asked her and I only do it once a year), clean cupboard doors (i have the help for that), clean floor mats (we have the washing machine), clean windows (we have the help), keeping windows open. Making it all sound like something she does everyday.
But she seems to be overstating the work she does - cause most of the work is not done daily, or even by her . She seems to have forgotten the help we get every 2 weeks was the one doing most of the chores she pointed out. I have also never seen her doing most of these chores.
When only my SO and I were around- it seemed we never spent more than 30mins each day on such chores. Working from home I never noticed there was such work needed to be done, even when I cooked. It seems she is compressing when she does over a few months into a day.
so yeah. rant over..
submitted by azureseagraffiti to Mildlynomil [link] [comments]
Whenever she cooks for herself or her friends she leaves grease, crumbs and water pooling at the counters or oily dishes. Each time I find flour, grease, water all over.
Fed up.. i’ve taken to pointing out a few things that she needed to clean better - since we all share the kitchen. Keep in mind- she is a retiree and we only give her 2 jobs: laundry (which she asked to do) and to clean up after herself after she makes any mess. I think it’s pretty reasonable. We don’t ask her to cook.
However, she gets pretty defensive and goes into a laundry list of chores she does for the kitchen- taking care no particles get around (wiping i guess), vacuuming (maybe 1 a week?) and moping (i have the help for that), removing dishes from dish dryer, clean area where mixers are (wiping counters again?), clean fridge door (never asked her and I only do it once a year), clean cupboard doors (i have the help for that), clean floor mats (we have the washing machine), clean windows (we have the help), keeping windows open. Making it all sound like something she does everyday.
But she seems to be overstating the work she does - cause most of the work is not done daily, or even by her . She seems to have forgotten the help we get every 2 weeks was the one doing most of the chores she pointed out. I have also never seen her doing most of these chores.
When only my SO and I were around- it seemed we never spent more than 30mins each day on such chores. Working from home I never noticed there was such work needed to be done, even when I cooked. It seems she is compressing when she does over a few months into a day.
so yeah. rant over..
2023.03.22 13:25 Wakky_Lyon I will pay you 10% of my weekly pay for 2 months if you help me get a good remote job.
(I apologise if this comes across as wrong to anyone or the channel, I will remove immediately if reproved).
Hi. I'm Wakky, female. I'm based in Nigeria, looking for fully remote jobs I can do from here in any country.
I have a B.Sc degree in Sociology and Anthropology and many other certifications. I'm a C2 Proficient in English language.
I have 8yrs overall work experience, including 2+years of remotely working with global companies in different fields and industries. I'm a writer, Customer service specialist, community manager, virtual assistant, business developer, HR assistant, Real Estate Agent & Broker, QA Tester in view, and work in related roles.
I do remarkable remote work, with dedication, focus, communication, timeliness.
If you happen to find opportunities you can grab for me, I'd really appreciate and pay you 10% of my weekly pay for 2 months. You can ask the company to include that in my agreement if you want, I'll sign it.
My financial situation has been on a consistent decline, I'm not getting any luck finding something lately and I really need to get working. I can work in any time zone.
Kindly send me a DM if this is something you would be willing to do.
Best Regards.
submitted by Wakky_Lyon to remotework [link] [comments]
Hi. I'm Wakky, female. I'm based in Nigeria, looking for fully remote jobs I can do from here in any country.
I have a B.Sc degree in Sociology and Anthropology and many other certifications. I'm a C2 Proficient in English language.
I have 8yrs overall work experience, including 2+years of remotely working with global companies in different fields and industries. I'm a writer, Customer service specialist, community manager, virtual assistant, business developer, HR assistant, Real Estate Agent & Broker, QA Tester in view, and work in related roles.
I do remarkable remote work, with dedication, focus, communication, timeliness.
If you happen to find opportunities you can grab for me, I'd really appreciate and pay you 10% of my weekly pay for 2 months. You can ask the company to include that in my agreement if you want, I'll sign it.
My financial situation has been on a consistent decline, I'm not getting any luck finding something lately and I really need to get working. I can work in any time zone.
Kindly send me a DM if this is something you would be willing to do.
Best Regards.
2023.03.22 13:25 Vipin_writescopy Anyone wanna Collab? (would love to chat)
If you're a webtoon artist and don't currently have a story in your mind but wanna start a webtoon nonetheless, Here's the first chapter of my short story: (if you wanna Collab or illustrate it, I would love to chat)
A hundred eyes stared at him. Kurin kept his pace. He scurried on the rutted alley toward his hut. His legs and arms ached after fishing, yes, but the admonitory peeping didn't let him slow down. He could feel the eyes of his neighbors, scrutinizing him like prey. Their stares had been getting more upfront and perturbing as the days passed. He bowed his head, reaching nearer to his hut. His arm ached as it clasped the fish from its tale, so he placed it on his shoulder. He could only catch one fish today, yet it was bigger than any he had ever caught. He hauled the door and trod inside. It was smaller than others huts in his quarter of the village, but it was enough for two. It had a hollow in the wall for daylight, a pitcher, and his tools. He placed the fishing rod with a soft hand, as he looked down. His little sister, Hirin, snored as she slept spreadeagled on the layer of straw. He knelt beside her. Straw crunched beneath his knees, as he held the fish overhead her face. He whistled softly. She opened her eyes listlessly, then yelped as her realization came. She jerked her body to the mud wall, and moments later giggled. Kurin smiled. “It's bigger than me!” Her eyes widened with amusement. “Because it ate more than you,” “Will I be bigger than you if I eat more?” She grinned. “You didn’t know that?” “Then I could go fishing with you” He stood up smiling, “Have you gathered sticks for fire?” “Yes!” “Wet?” “Yes!” He gave her a silly look. “Dry,” She grinned. He smiled, “Come, let's teach you to cook, today,” “Really?” She jumped to her feet and scurried behind him.
“Turn it around,” Kurin directed his little sister as she clenched the stick of fish over the fire. He had to pare the fish in two pieces as it was too heavy for Hirin to hold. He rolled his fish too; it was nearly cooked. The smell of cooked fish mingled with smoke. He liked that smell. He squinted as the smoke itched in his eyes. “Here, give me that,” He switched his half with his sister. He could tell it by the smell that Hirin had burnt it, “You did well,”
submitted by Vipin_writescopy to webtoons [link] [comments]
A hundred eyes stared at him. Kurin kept his pace. He scurried on the rutted alley toward his hut. His legs and arms ached after fishing, yes, but the admonitory peeping didn't let him slow down. He could feel the eyes of his neighbors, scrutinizing him like prey. Their stares had been getting more upfront and perturbing as the days passed. He bowed his head, reaching nearer to his hut. His arm ached as it clasped the fish from its tale, so he placed it on his shoulder. He could only catch one fish today, yet it was bigger than any he had ever caught. He hauled the door and trod inside. It was smaller than others huts in his quarter of the village, but it was enough for two. It had a hollow in the wall for daylight, a pitcher, and his tools. He placed the fishing rod with a soft hand, as he looked down. His little sister, Hirin, snored as she slept spreadeagled on the layer of straw. He knelt beside her. Straw crunched beneath his knees, as he held the fish overhead her face. He whistled softly. She opened her eyes listlessly, then yelped as her realization came. She jerked her body to the mud wall, and moments later giggled. Kurin smiled. “It's bigger than me!” Her eyes widened with amusement. “Because it ate more than you,” “Will I be bigger than you if I eat more?” She grinned. “You didn’t know that?” “Then I could go fishing with you” He stood up smiling, “Have you gathered sticks for fire?” “Yes!” “Wet?” “Yes!” He gave her a silly look. “Dry,” She grinned. He smiled, “Come, let's teach you to cook, today,” “Really?” She jumped to her feet and scurried behind him.
“Turn it around,” Kurin directed his little sister as she clenched the stick of fish over the fire. He had to pare the fish in two pieces as it was too heavy for Hirin to hold. He rolled his fish too; it was nearly cooked. The smell of cooked fish mingled with smoke. He liked that smell. He squinted as the smoke itched in his eyes. “Here, give me that,” He switched his half with his sister. He could tell it by the smell that Hirin had burnt it, “You did well,”
“Kurin?” She said after some time. “Hm?” “Why Don't We eat with the others anymore?” He didn't want to hide it from her anymore, “Have you noticed something strange about them?” “I don't understand,” He didn't want to scare her either. He sighed, “They have been looking at me differently. like I've committed some sin.” “But they took us into their village. They gave us a home. They're good people, Kurin,” Her face grew apprehensive, “They are, right?” “I don't know, Hirin,” Kurin sighed, “Something just isn't right with this village.” Now she looked scared, “I miss father, Kurin. And mother, too” “I miss them too,” “Do you believe she is alive,” “Yes, she is. I know it,” His father had once told him that, “The raiders take women. They don't kill them.” She nodded. The fire had died, and only ember remained. Its warmth dwindling. Hirin shivered. “Go and sleep,” He said, “I'm coming.” She nodded again, and left. Kurin looked up. The night was cold, and moonless, with the stars less than the number of hair on a bald man’s head. It was an alike night when they came. Kurin and his sister had been sleeping in their hut when the tumult had woken him up. He had looked over at his parents’ empty bed, “Father is still in carouse?” yet something was uncanny. His mother was absent too, and she had loathed carouse. Kurin had jerked his head to specifically nowhere when the turmoil suddenly grew louder. There were shouts, and squalls, and . . . screams? His heart started racing. He moved to his feet and strode toward the door. He suddenly halted. He inhaled a deep breath. There was smoke in the air. He rushed to the door. A raid? He thought. The door ripped open before he could reach it, and his mother fell to the floor. She was gasping in agony. Her robe was torn. Her right thigh was dripping blood from where a spearhead was stuck. She was clutching onto a roll of cloth. “Mother?” He dropped beside her, “What happened to you? Where is father?” She cried in pain as she dropped the cloth. “What is it, mother?” He took it and unfurled it. It was a hand. His father’s hand. Flesh dangled to the tapering bone that jutted out from its wrist. Kurin cringed away. A stream of tears ran down his cheeks. “Listen, Kurin. KURIN!” She groaned. “Yes, I'm listening,” “Where . . . is . . . Hirin?” She gasped. “She’s sleeping right there,” He pointed his finger toward a corner of the hut. And then glanced back. Hirin was hunching with her knees to her chest. Horror-struck. His mother lifted her trembling arm for her, “Come here,” Hirin did not move for a moment, then stood up and shuffled towards her. She had a feeble look as if she didn't know her mother anymore. Tysha gave a wan smile as she raised her quivering arm and brushed her daughter’s hair from her forehead, “go—” She winched, “. . .with your brother,” “Are you okay?” Hirin asked, suddenly sobbing. Her mother did not reply. She looked at Kurin, “North. Cross . . . Narrow River. Now!” The screams were getting louder, and he could distinguish raiders’ curses. They were near. Kurin nodded, and slid his arms beneath his mother’s neck and knees. She cried in pain, “What are you doing?” “I'm not going without you,” “Listen—” she winced, “I saw . . . Those savages . . . one of them . . . hacked Dina’s head with a sword.” She gasped, “she was younger than . . . than Hirin. You have to go. Without me!” Kurin froze, then grabbed his sister's hand as she wept. He stepped outside the hut. The Village was a field of fire. A few dead bodies lay on the streets. Savages, on horses, knocking down the doors of huts. Kurin tightened his grip around his sister’s hand, and gave her mother a final glance. “Protect her, Rin,” she murmured.
2023.03.22 13:24 Spankygank When one chooser meets another
 | submitted by Spankygank to ChoosingBeggars [link] [comments] |
2023.03.22 13:24 KrateAndVape What's the plan?
When I quit, it was important for me to have a plan... a quitting strategy, if you will. I took this approach because I knew if I went "by the seat of my pants" there'd be a lot of room for error and I'd most likely fail. I didn't want to use kratom any more and was determined to quit for good. Nearly 3 years later and I still feel the same way about it.
I wrote out a list of reasons that I wanted to quit. Part of that list was side-effects I was getting as a result of my kratom use. Nowadays I suggest people make a second list... a list of things (hobbies, sports / physical activities, family events, career endeavors, etc.) that they used to do prior to kratom, but no longer do. Added to that list could be new life experiences you'd like to try. More things can be added to this list as the fog clears and new fresh ideas and goals come to you.
Next on my plan was to decide if I wanted to taper or go CT. Then chose a quit date. (When tapering, this could be a bit flexible if I wanted to jump from the taper sooner than anticipated depending on how I felt. But this was not a date to keep pushing back and trying to avoid the inevitable. Although things happen and sometimes we have to reassess in the other direction too.) I chose to taper. I ended up tapering for only 7 weeks. I went from 20-30gpd and jumped from 3gpd. ( I ended up jumping sooner than I expected because of a couple "signs from above", so to speak, which I've described in earlier posts.) I journaled every day during my taper and in my early stages of quitting. I can't remember specifically, but I probably journaled for about my first 3 months clean. I journaled about what my planned tapered doses for that day were and what my actual doses were. I wrote about how I felt physically and mentally. I wrote about anything that came to mind about quitting and where I was at during my quit.
The smart way for most people probably is to prepare themselves for acute withdrawals. i.e. Get whatever supplements you want to use, and / or doctor prescribed helper meds, a heating pad, whatever you need if you're prone to RLS, etc. I, unfortunately, did very little of that. I didn't have the benefit of this subreddit until I was already in the middle of acutes. So, I really didn't know that supplements could help. And I made a choice to not use any meds. That's just my personal choice. In retrospect, do I wish I took something for sleep early on? Yeah, probably. (Insomnia was horrendous for me.) But I somehow powered through without. That "feat" doesn't make me special or heroic or anything like that. It made me sleep deprived though :)
I didn't have a plan for PAWS at first, because again, I didn't know about it until I found this subreddit. As I went along I picked up different "tips" and "tricks" that work for me... a plan for long term "sobriety", I suppose... How I stay quit on a daily basis.
What is (or was) your PLAN FOR QUITTING? For those who've already quit with some time passed, did you stick to your original plan or did you have to make tweaks and changes as you went along? For those who are new (or just coming back from a relapse, do you have a plan you are confident in or do you think you need some help with it? Is there anyone who's quit without a real plan but maybe you developed one later down the road? What were your experiences with having a solid "plan of attack" vs. just kinda' doing it on the fly? Was a plan important for you, or does a "take it as it comes and adjust from there" approach work better for you?
For me, I've found that it helps to write things out (or type them out, in the technologically modern times we live in now). If you've been wanting to quit but you don't have a plan, maybe now is the time to make one. Please share your thoughts and experiences about it. Hopefully this will benefit someone.
You CAN quit kratom. You are stronger than you think. 💪 Quit and stay quit. 👍
submitted by KrateAndVape to quittingkratom [link] [comments]
I wrote out a list of reasons that I wanted to quit. Part of that list was side-effects I was getting as a result of my kratom use. Nowadays I suggest people make a second list... a list of things (hobbies, sports / physical activities, family events, career endeavors, etc.) that they used to do prior to kratom, but no longer do. Added to that list could be new life experiences you'd like to try. More things can be added to this list as the fog clears and new fresh ideas and goals come to you.
Next on my plan was to decide if I wanted to taper or go CT. Then chose a quit date. (When tapering, this could be a bit flexible if I wanted to jump from the taper sooner than anticipated depending on how I felt. But this was not a date to keep pushing back and trying to avoid the inevitable. Although things happen and sometimes we have to reassess in the other direction too.) I chose to taper. I ended up tapering for only 7 weeks. I went from 20-30gpd and jumped from 3gpd. ( I ended up jumping sooner than I expected because of a couple "signs from above", so to speak, which I've described in earlier posts.) I journaled every day during my taper and in my early stages of quitting. I can't remember specifically, but I probably journaled for about my first 3 months clean. I journaled about what my planned tapered doses for that day were and what my actual doses were. I wrote about how I felt physically and mentally. I wrote about anything that came to mind about quitting and where I was at during my quit.
The smart way for most people probably is to prepare themselves for acute withdrawals. i.e. Get whatever supplements you want to use, and / or doctor prescribed helper meds, a heating pad, whatever you need if you're prone to RLS, etc. I, unfortunately, did very little of that. I didn't have the benefit of this subreddit until I was already in the middle of acutes. So, I really didn't know that supplements could help. And I made a choice to not use any meds. That's just my personal choice. In retrospect, do I wish I took something for sleep early on? Yeah, probably. (Insomnia was horrendous for me.) But I somehow powered through without. That "feat" doesn't make me special or heroic or anything like that. It made me sleep deprived though :)
I didn't have a plan for PAWS at first, because again, I didn't know about it until I found this subreddit. As I went along I picked up different "tips" and "tricks" that work for me... a plan for long term "sobriety", I suppose... How I stay quit on a daily basis.
What is (or was) your PLAN FOR QUITTING? For those who've already quit with some time passed, did you stick to your original plan or did you have to make tweaks and changes as you went along? For those who are new (or just coming back from a relapse, do you have a plan you are confident in or do you think you need some help with it? Is there anyone who's quit without a real plan but maybe you developed one later down the road? What were your experiences with having a solid "plan of attack" vs. just kinda' doing it on the fly? Was a plan important for you, or does a "take it as it comes and adjust from there" approach work better for you?
For me, I've found that it helps to write things out (or type them out, in the technologically modern times we live in now). If you've been wanting to quit but you don't have a plan, maybe now is the time to make one. Please share your thoughts and experiences about it. Hopefully this will benefit someone.
You CAN quit kratom. You are stronger than you think. 💪 Quit and stay quit. 👍
2023.03.22 13:23 greentrees999 Anyone else think this is really fucking strange for someone to post? Typical Cosi antics I guess…
 | submitted by greentrees999 to u/greentrees999 [link] [comments] |
2023.03.22 13:23 Jakeadada Potential interview for a school project
Hello sportspsychology! In one of my classes, we’ve been assigned to host an interview in a field we are interested in going into. However, as you’d imagine it can be difficult to find a sports psychologist near me. If anyone here is qualified, please send me a PM if you’re interested, and potentially setting up a 5-10 minute zoom interview.
Thank you!
submitted by Jakeadada to sportspsychology [link] [comments]
Thank you!
2023.03.22 13:23 Situnoestas Have you ever worked with Satoshi?
I may have worked with him once, he was very different from what I thought. He wasn't Japanese, or old. He wasn't a genius programming, or a genius in economy. He was a good listener, and a good learner.
While I was very young and dumb, he tried to teach me a lot of valuable lessons. Most of them I didn't understand, or I forgot as the time passed by but there's one that stick with me:
"Anybody can do my job better than me, while the world needs a Satoshi Nakamoto it doesn't need me. It needs you"
submitted by Situnoestas to Bitcoin [link] [comments]
While I was very young and dumb, he tried to teach me a lot of valuable lessons. Most of them I didn't understand, or I forgot as the time passed by but there's one that stick with me:
"Anybody can do my job better than me, while the world needs a Satoshi Nakamoto it doesn't need me. It needs you"
2023.03.22 13:23 Direct-Royal9822 How long will it take to get stronger?
I've started a physically demanding part-time job that requires me to stand up and lift packages the whole shift. I've noticed that it's a bit heavier than I expected sometimes and the shift basically feels like a workout. I'll get sweaty and sometimes if it's a high-tempo day I feel weak and kinda struggle to keep up. I keep a bottle of water with me but it only helps a bit.
The best thing to do would be to find a better job but I kind of need money right now and not in a few weeks or months. Due to this, I think it's time for me to get in shape in order to not suffer too much at work.
I'm not really looking to change my body aesthetically or becoming a full-on body builder; I just want to be able to do my job without feeling like I wanna pass out lmao. What I want to know is if working out at home 2-3 times a week with body weight and some dumbbells would be enough, and also how long it would take to see results? Can I expect to feel a little stronger quickly or will it take months?
submitted by Direct-Royal9822 to xxfitness [link] [comments]
The best thing to do would be to find a better job but I kind of need money right now and not in a few weeks or months. Due to this, I think it's time for me to get in shape in order to not suffer too much at work.
I'm not really looking to change my body aesthetically or becoming a full-on body builder; I just want to be able to do my job without feeling like I wanna pass out lmao. What I want to know is if working out at home 2-3 times a week with body weight and some dumbbells would be enough, and also how long it would take to see results? Can I expect to feel a little stronger quickly or will it take months?
2023.03.22 13:23 KobeKare are those anxiety attacks?
throwaway acc. a little bit about myself i’m a 23 F, bi in a very religious country, i have 9-5 job, shit family but i’m really used to it.
after several suicidal attempts my last one was 9 months ago, not gonna go into details of how i did it but i had a very bad inflammation and stomach ache! did go to the hospital for “being sick for no reason”, docs told me that my test all came back fine and i should just rest (not really sure how but i was glad).
in the next days i had the worst chest pain i’ve ever experienced and i definitely thought i was gonna have a heart attack and die, one day it got really bad and my heart raced like crazy and i was shaking but no one was around and after a couple of minutes i was ok. i guess it was a panic attack (never had one before) so i brushed it off like nothing happened.
in the next months i have been having these weird chest pain i thought i had a problem with my heart, but as days went by i noticed that the pain gets so much worst when i think about certain things. i’ve done so much to get rid of the pain yet it seems like it only gets worst.
i was watching a video on youtube the other day about a medical case and when they started to describe the symptoms that the patient had I HAD THE WORST CHEST PAIN SO FAR!! my heart was racing and my chest tightened i couldn’t breathe!
googled it and got an “anxiety test”, idk what to do. it really fucked me up i thought i was crazy.
p.s: every time i get the chest pain i would google my symptoms and only get “HEART ATTACK” and “IMMEDIATELY CALL 911”, it makes the pain way worst….
i need tips on how to control my anxiety please!
submitted by KobeKare to Anxiety [link] [comments]
after several suicidal attempts my last one was 9 months ago, not gonna go into details of how i did it but i had a very bad inflammation and stomach ache! did go to the hospital for “being sick for no reason”, docs told me that my test all came back fine and i should just rest (not really sure how but i was glad).
in the next days i had the worst chest pain i’ve ever experienced and i definitely thought i was gonna have a heart attack and die, one day it got really bad and my heart raced like crazy and i was shaking but no one was around and after a couple of minutes i was ok. i guess it was a panic attack (never had one before) so i brushed it off like nothing happened.
in the next months i have been having these weird chest pain i thought i had a problem with my heart, but as days went by i noticed that the pain gets so much worst when i think about certain things. i’ve done so much to get rid of the pain yet it seems like it only gets worst.
i was watching a video on youtube the other day about a medical case and when they started to describe the symptoms that the patient had I HAD THE WORST CHEST PAIN SO FAR!! my heart was racing and my chest tightened i couldn’t breathe!
googled it and got an “anxiety test”, idk what to do. it really fucked me up i thought i was crazy.
p.s: every time i get the chest pain i would google my symptoms and only get “HEART ATTACK” and “IMMEDIATELY CALL 911”, it makes the pain way worst….
i need tips on how to control my anxiety please!
2023.03.22 13:23 Vipin_writescopy Anyone wanna Collab?
If you're a webtoon artist and don't currently have a story in your mind but wanna start a webtoon nonetheless, Here's the first chapter of my short story: (if you wanna Collab or illustrate it, I would love to chat)
A hundred eyes stared at him. Kurin kept his pace. He scurried on the rutted alley toward his hut. His legs and arms ached after fishing, yes, but the admonitory peeping didn't let him slow down. He could feel the eyes of his neighbors, scrutinizing him like prey. Their stares had been getting more upfront and perturbing as the days passed. He bowed his head, reaching nearer to his hut. His arm ached as it clasped the fish from its tale, so he placed it on his shoulder. He could only catch one fish today, yet it was bigger than any he had ever caught. He hauled the door and trod inside. It was smaller than others huts in his quarter of the village, but it was enough for two. It had a hollow in the wall for daylight, a pitcher, and his tools. He placed the fishing rod with a soft hand, as he looked down. His little sister, Hirin, snored as she slept spreadeagled on the layer of straw. He knelt beside her. Straw crunched beneath his knees, as he held the fish overhead her face. He whistled softly. She opened her eyes listlessly, then yelped as her realization came. She jerked her body to the mud wall, and moments later giggled. Kurin smiled. “It's bigger than me!” Her eyes widened with amusement. “Because it ate more than you,” “Will I be bigger than you if I eat more?” She grinned. “You didn’t know that?” “Then I could go fishing with you” He stood up smiling, “Have you gathered sticks for fire?” “Yes!” “Wet?” “Yes!” He gave her a silly look. “Dry,” She grinned. He smiled, “Come, let's teach you to cook, today,” “Really?” She jumped to her feet and scurried behind him.
“Turn it around,” Kurin directed his little sister as she clenched the stick of fish over the fire. He had to pare the fish in two pieces as it was too heavy for Hirin to hold. He rolled his fish too; it was nearly cooked. The smell of cooked fish mingled with smoke. He liked that smell. He squinted as the smoke itched in his eyes. “Here, give me that,” He switched his half with his sister. He could tell it by the smell that Hirin had burnt it, “You did well,”
submitted by Vipin_writescopy to webtoon [link] [comments]
A hundred eyes stared at him. Kurin kept his pace. He scurried on the rutted alley toward his hut. His legs and arms ached after fishing, yes, but the admonitory peeping didn't let him slow down. He could feel the eyes of his neighbors, scrutinizing him like prey. Their stares had been getting more upfront and perturbing as the days passed. He bowed his head, reaching nearer to his hut. His arm ached as it clasped the fish from its tale, so he placed it on his shoulder. He could only catch one fish today, yet it was bigger than any he had ever caught. He hauled the door and trod inside. It was smaller than others huts in his quarter of the village, but it was enough for two. It had a hollow in the wall for daylight, a pitcher, and his tools. He placed the fishing rod with a soft hand, as he looked down. His little sister, Hirin, snored as she slept spreadeagled on the layer of straw. He knelt beside her. Straw crunched beneath his knees, as he held the fish overhead her face. He whistled softly. She opened her eyes listlessly, then yelped as her realization came. She jerked her body to the mud wall, and moments later giggled. Kurin smiled. “It's bigger than me!” Her eyes widened with amusement. “Because it ate more than you,” “Will I be bigger than you if I eat more?” She grinned. “You didn’t know that?” “Then I could go fishing with you” He stood up smiling, “Have you gathered sticks for fire?” “Yes!” “Wet?” “Yes!” He gave her a silly look. “Dry,” She grinned. He smiled, “Come, let's teach you to cook, today,” “Really?” She jumped to her feet and scurried behind him.
“Turn it around,” Kurin directed his little sister as she clenched the stick of fish over the fire. He had to pare the fish in two pieces as it was too heavy for Hirin to hold. He rolled his fish too; it was nearly cooked. The smell of cooked fish mingled with smoke. He liked that smell. He squinted as the smoke itched in his eyes. “Here, give me that,” He switched his half with his sister. He could tell it by the smell that Hirin had burnt it, “You did well,”
“Kurin?” She said after some time. “Hm?” “Why Don't We eat with the others anymore?” He didn't want to hide it from her anymore, “Have you noticed something strange about them?” “I don't understand,” He didn't want to scare her either. He sighed, “They have been looking at me differently. like I've committed some sin.” “But they took us into their village. They gave us a home. They're good people, Kurin,” Her face grew apprehensive, “They are, right?” “I don't know, Hirin,” Kurin sighed, “Something just isn't right with this village.” Now she looked scared, “I miss father, Kurin. And mother, too” “I miss them too,” “Do you believe she is alive,” “Yes, she is. I know it,” His father had once told him that, “The raiders take women. They don't kill them.” She nodded. The fire had died, and only ember remained. Its warmth dwindling. Hirin shivered. “Go and sleep,” He said, “I'm coming.” She nodded again, and left. Kurin looked up. The night was cold, and moonless, with the stars less than the number of hair on a bald man’s head. It was an alike night when they came. Kurin and his sister had been sleeping in their hut when the tumult had woken him up. He had looked over at his parents’ empty bed, “Father is still in carouse?” yet something was uncanny. His mother was absent too, and she had loathed carouse. Kurin had jerked his head to specifically nowhere when the turmoil suddenly grew louder. There were shouts, and squalls, and . . . screams? His heart started racing. He moved to his feet and strode toward the door. He suddenly halted. He inhaled a deep breath. There was smoke in the air. He rushed to the door. A raid? He thought. The door ripped open before he could reach it, and his mother fell to the floor. She was gasping in agony. Her robe was torn. Her right thigh was dripping blood from where a spearhead was stuck. She was clutching onto a roll of cloth. “Mother?” He dropped beside her, “What happened to you? Where is father?” She cried in pain as she dropped the cloth. “What is it, mother?” He took it and unfurled it. It was a hand. His father’s hand. Flesh dangled to the tapering bone that jutted out from its wrist. Kurin cringed away. A stream of tears ran down his cheeks. “Listen, Kurin. KURIN!” She groaned. “Yes, I'm listening,” “Where . . . is . . . Hirin?” She gasped. “She’s sleeping right there,” He pointed his finger toward a corner of the hut. And then glanced back. Hirin was hunching with her knees to her chest. Horror-struck. His mother lifted her trembling arm for her, “Come here,” Hirin did not move for a moment, then stood up and shuffled towards her. She had a feeble look as if she didn't know her mother anymore. Tysha gave a wan smile as she raised her quivering arm and brushed her daughter’s hair from her forehead, “go—” She winched, “. . .with your brother,” “Are you okay?” Hirin asked, suddenly sobbing. Her mother did not reply. She looked at Kurin, “North. Cross . . . Narrow River. Now!” The screams were getting louder, and he could distinguish raiders’ curses. They were near. Kurin nodded, and slid his arms beneath his mother’s neck and knees. She cried in pain, “What are you doing?” “I'm not going without you,” “Listen—” she winced, “I saw . . . Those savages . . . one of them . . . hacked Dina’s head with a sword.” She gasped, “she was younger than . . . than Hirin. You have to go. Without me!” Kurin froze, then grabbed his sister's hand as she wept. He stepped outside the hut. The Village was a field of fire. A few dead bodies lay on the streets. Savages, on horses, knocking down the doors of huts. Kurin tightened his grip around his sister’s hand, and gave her mother a final glance. “Protect her, Rin,” she murmured.
2023.03.22 13:22 ReindeerCommercial28 Should I move out?
It all started nung kinuha ako ni mama dito abroad. First few weeks, okay naman kami. Hanggang sa around august or something, nagkaroon kami ng di pagkaka-unawaan. Tinanong ko lang kung me pharmacy ba malapit para makabili ng gamot ko. Tas ang sabi niya sa akin, “wala ka namang sakit ah. Yang anxiety na yan, wag mo kasing isipin para di sumpungin.” Or something like that. Tas yon medyo sumama loob ko, I decided to go to my room para mapag isa. Tas after two days, pumasok siya sa room ko, kung ano ano sinasabi and umiiyak. Ako raw may kasalanan kung bat inaatake ng sakit bf niya. Sa tuwing nag-aaway kami, yan panlaban niya sa akin, ako may kasalanan kung bat di maayos lagay ng jowa niya. May point na namisikal na siya sa akin. Take note na 18 years old ako non (now 19 turning 20 this year). On and off away namin ni mama.
Hanggang sa kahapon lang, sinisante ako ng jowa niya dahil nakilagpalit ako ng shift sa katrabaho namin dahil di ko kaya magmorning shift at hirap ako sa umaga and may hangover ako (dito sa part na may hangover ako, for sure dito ako mali). Pumayag naman yung katrabaho ko kasi pinag iisipan din niyang magmorning shift para masundo niya anak niya. Di naman naapektuhan yung takbo ng hotel dahil nagswap lang naman kami. Lumabas ng room nila jowa niya, galit na galit tas yun sinisante ako. Sabi rin ni mama sa kaniya na nagswap kami para nga masundo nung katrabaho ko anak niya. Then few hours later, sinabi ni mama na kaya ako nakipagswap dahil may hangover ako. Tas yun kung ano ano sinasabi sa akin. Addict daw ako sa Marijuana, which is di naman. I tried pero di ako addict don.
Ngayon I’m looking for another job. Toxic rin environment dito. Also, nagbabalak na ako magmove out if makahanap ako ng trabaho dahil wala namang nangyayari sa aming maganda pag magkakasama kami. Kaso, ayaw ni mama na mawala ako sa paningin niya. Napakacontrolling sa akin yung magagalit pag naglalock ako ng pinto dahil nagbibihis ako and all the other small things. Idk if I should really move out or not. I can’t decide for myself. I just don’t want to surround myself with toxic and negative energies dahil nakakadrain. Alam ko ring mahirap mag move out pero I will for independency and feel ko di ako naggogrow sa flat dahil they’re still treating me like a kid
submitted by ReindeerCommercial28 to OffMyChestPH [link] [comments]
Hanggang sa kahapon lang, sinisante ako ng jowa niya dahil nakilagpalit ako ng shift sa katrabaho namin dahil di ko kaya magmorning shift at hirap ako sa umaga and may hangover ako (dito sa part na may hangover ako, for sure dito ako mali). Pumayag naman yung katrabaho ko kasi pinag iisipan din niyang magmorning shift para masundo niya anak niya. Di naman naapektuhan yung takbo ng hotel dahil nagswap lang naman kami. Lumabas ng room nila jowa niya, galit na galit tas yun sinisante ako. Sabi rin ni mama sa kaniya na nagswap kami para nga masundo nung katrabaho ko anak niya. Then few hours later, sinabi ni mama na kaya ako nakipagswap dahil may hangover ako. Tas yun kung ano ano sinasabi sa akin. Addict daw ako sa Marijuana, which is di naman. I tried pero di ako addict don.
Ngayon I’m looking for another job. Toxic rin environment dito. Also, nagbabalak na ako magmove out if makahanap ako ng trabaho dahil wala namang nangyayari sa aming maganda pag magkakasama kami. Kaso, ayaw ni mama na mawala ako sa paningin niya. Napakacontrolling sa akin yung magagalit pag naglalock ako ng pinto dahil nagbibihis ako and all the other small things. Idk if I should really move out or not. I can’t decide for myself. I just don’t want to surround myself with toxic and negative energies dahil nakakadrain. Alam ko ring mahirap mag move out pero I will for independency and feel ko di ako naggogrow sa flat dahil they’re still treating me like a kid
2023.03.22 13:22 Eaglenger Update Udemy Paid Courses for Free with Certificate For Wednesday, March 22, 2023
Courses for 22 March 2023
Note : Coupons might expire anytime, so enroll as soon as possible to get the courses for FREE.
submitted by Eaglenger to Udemy [link] [comments]
Note : Coupons might expire anytime, so enroll as soon as possible to get the courses for FREE.
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2023.03.22 13:21 Niekoboko This beauty is for sale near me. Wish I had 20k laying around...
 | submitted by Niekoboko to JDM [link] [comments] |
2023.03.22 13:21 shinynewbike My oldest brother is in a coma.
My oldest brother was involved in a motorcycle accident last week. He's currently in a coma due to moderate anoxia and has lost his arm just above the elbow. It's been 4 days since the accident, and I'm losing hope. I'm here in San Diego with the entire family. I don't know what to do. My wife and kids are back home, and I miss them so much. Finances are getting tight, but it seems like so trivial in the realm of things. My nephew is 7 and can barely comprehend all of this. All he knows is that his father has been in a motorcycle accident and is still sleeping. Things aren't looking good, and we don't know how to prepare him for the worst outcome. At best, my brother will need significant assistance for the rest of his life. We're in a limbo of keeping him alive and considering his quality of life.
The doctors are doing an amazing job of keeping us informed and up to date on his condition, but the nature of the injuries keep it skeptical at best.
I don't know what to do. I'm the youngest of 4 brothers, and I've always been the comedic relief, but I'm not sure if I can keep it up. I feel like a little kid again, hoping that he'll wake up and everything will be OK. But in reality, I know that won't be the case.
I can't lose my brother, but I also don't want to prolong the inevitable. Keeping hope is becoming harder and harder. He is so loved, but the reality of life keeps interfering with what my heart is telling me. I just can't handle it. I'm so conflicted between providing for my own family and his. I'm being split in two.
I don't know if any of y'all have experience with situations like this but I could surely use some insight. I just can't do this on my own, and my other brothers aren't very emotionally open. I feel so alone in my thoughts. Any advice or guidance would be very much appreciated.
Thank you for taking the time to read this.
submitted by shinynewbike to GuyCry [link] [comments]
The doctors are doing an amazing job of keeping us informed and up to date on his condition, but the nature of the injuries keep it skeptical at best.
I don't know what to do. I'm the youngest of 4 brothers, and I've always been the comedic relief, but I'm not sure if I can keep it up. I feel like a little kid again, hoping that he'll wake up and everything will be OK. But in reality, I know that won't be the case.
I can't lose my brother, but I also don't want to prolong the inevitable. Keeping hope is becoming harder and harder. He is so loved, but the reality of life keeps interfering with what my heart is telling me. I just can't handle it. I'm so conflicted between providing for my own family and his. I'm being split in two.
I don't know if any of y'all have experience with situations like this but I could surely use some insight. I just can't do this on my own, and my other brothers aren't very emotionally open. I feel so alone in my thoughts. Any advice or guidance would be very much appreciated.
Thank you for taking the time to read this.
2023.03.22 13:21 lookfine99 Stadium Arcadium Tour 07'
Stadium Arcadium 07' tour
Personally, I really like that period, just like the By the way tour 2003. For me, those were the band's most inspired moments live.
According to RHCP live archive the band made 106 performances, 15 of them appearing on TV or events. Leading to believe that at least 91 shows were performed that year, which is twice as many shows as the band used to do in the first 6 months of the tour.
Anthony said: "It felt like the Stadium Arcadium tour was a year and a half old, the first six months were fun with lots of material to choose from". (An Oral/Visual History)
The band burned through all the gas in 6 months and crawled to the end of the tour.
"Australia was difficult and Anthony had hurt his foot. He couldn't do things his way and it upset him. Flea was getting sick. The excitement went out the window. It became a 'job'. John wasn't enjoying it too much, he played well but we added [guitarist] Josh [Klinghoffer] to play with us." - Chad Smith
I think that at that moment Flea must have thought about that 2-year break and then things started to get unpleasant for John, who as far as I could tell remained at the peak of his game. Obviously, he isolated himself and played more "egocentrically" than collectively, as he soloed the entire show with his wah pedal. It was like the band played so he could do guitar solos at any time.
I have a new perspective on things now. I think it was a sequence of events that led to the near death of the band. The excess of shows saturated everyone and when John was unhappy, the band didn't have the strength to fight it, it was a heavy overload of tension on top of a sick band on tour.
What do you remember from 2007?
submitted by lookfine99 to RedHotChiliPeppers [link] [comments]
Personally, I really like that period, just like the By the way tour 2003. For me, those were the band's most inspired moments live.
According to RHCP live archive the band made 106 performances, 15 of them appearing on TV or events. Leading to believe that at least 91 shows were performed that year, which is twice as many shows as the band used to do in the first 6 months of the tour.
Anthony said: "It felt like the Stadium Arcadium tour was a year and a half old, the first six months were fun with lots of material to choose from". (An Oral/Visual History)
The band burned through all the gas in 6 months and crawled to the end of the tour.
"Australia was difficult and Anthony had hurt his foot. He couldn't do things his way and it upset him. Flea was getting sick. The excitement went out the window. It became a 'job'. John wasn't enjoying it too much, he played well but we added [guitarist] Josh [Klinghoffer] to play with us." - Chad Smith
I think that at that moment Flea must have thought about that 2-year break and then things started to get unpleasant for John, who as far as I could tell remained at the peak of his game. Obviously, he isolated himself and played more "egocentrically" than collectively, as he soloed the entire show with his wah pedal. It was like the band played so he could do guitar solos at any time.
I have a new perspective on things now. I think it was a sequence of events that led to the near death of the band. The excess of shows saturated everyone and when John was unhappy, the band didn't have the strength to fight it, it was a heavy overload of tension on top of a sick band on tour.
What do you remember from 2007?