Chinese bakeries near me
Mneumonese--The Language of Memory, Logic, and Agápe
2015.01.06 00:40 justonium Mneumonese--The Language of Memory, Logic, and Agápe
Mneumonese (etymologically mnemonically derived from "mnemonic", "von Neumann", and "-ese") is an a priori, oligosynthetic, philosophical, logical, psychological, self-referential, recursively defined, programmatic constructed language that is constructed completely out of mnemonics. Mne(u)monese is a philosophical language. Mnemonese is a language spoken by a society on a planet that had its information technology boom in the pre-writing age rather than at the creation of compupers. hyu
2023.06.01 20:25 YARR1N 17 y/o WTF do I do?
So I've been watching the market for over a year now, learned a lot in the progress. But I'm still fucking clueless. Over here you got people saying the end is near and a big crash is coming, but over there you got people without a care in the world just buying stocks that they think are undervalued. Like should I wait for a crash that might still be 20 years off and miss out on all the potential gains? How certain is it that a crash is coming and how far off are we? I can't believe holding my money in cash is the best option right now. I know I still got my whole life ahead of me, but then why do they say time is money in the market? A crash is bound to happen though, right??
submitted by YARR1N to StockMarket [link] [comments]
2023.06.01 20:25 lstnfnd Need advice on exiting a business
I’m hoping someone could share some thoughts as I feel pretty hopeless at the moment.
I currently own part of a business that has run into cash flow issues from self inflicted wounds from our majority owner. Who unfortunately really isn’t doing his job and even has negatively impacted us through his actions.
Our business relies on cash flow week to week to stay afloat. Without telling me or my other partner he pulled $50k out 2 weeks ago. Fast forward to today that had a huge impact in that we just missed a major payment to our corporate entity as a result of this. Flat out we didn’t have $50K to pull.
On top of this since we get paid as a draw and have struggled the last few years our account suggested showing our “salaries” as a draw/loan to the business. Which now we’re in a position where paying that back feels nearly impossible.
My question is: can I return or trade my equity to a partner to cover my “loan” and just walk away? At this point I’m just trying to move on if I can. Or am I screwed? If it’s the latter I get it.
submitted by lstnfnd to AskAnAccountant [link] [comments]
I currently own part of a business that has run into cash flow issues from self inflicted wounds from our majority owner. Who unfortunately really isn’t doing his job and even has negatively impacted us through his actions.
Our business relies on cash flow week to week to stay afloat. Without telling me or my other partner he pulled $50k out 2 weeks ago. Fast forward to today that had a huge impact in that we just missed a major payment to our corporate entity as a result of this. Flat out we didn’t have $50K to pull.
On top of this since we get paid as a draw and have struggled the last few years our account suggested showing our “salaries” as a draw/loan to the business. Which now we’re in a position where paying that back feels nearly impossible.
My question is: can I return or trade my equity to a partner to cover my “loan” and just walk away? At this point I’m just trying to move on if I can. Or am I screwed? If it’s the latter I get it.
2023.06.01 20:24 YARR1N 17 y/o, wtf do I do?
So I've been watching the market for over a year now, learned a lot in the progress. But I'm still fucking clueless. Over here you got people saying the end is near and a big crash is coming, but over there you got people without a care in the world just buying stocks that they think are undervalued. Like should I wait for a crash that might still be 20 years off and miss out on all the potential gains? How certain is it that a crash is coming and how far off are we? I can't believe holding my money in cash is the best option right now. I know I still got my whole life ahead of me, but then why do they say time is money in the market? A crash is bound to happen though, right??
submitted by YARR1N to dividends [link] [comments]
2023.06.01 20:24 phosxcinnabar just wanted to give my 2 cents on haikaveh
there's been a lot of discussion posts as of late on kaveh as a character and his relationship with alhaitham and I just wanted to provide another perspective. I've seen psychologists try and analyze Kaveh's situation and I still don't think they got it quite right. I'm also just a little tired of all of the ship hating and the "Why can't you guys just let guys be friends? Why do you have to ship them?" Which is blatant homophobia most of (not all!) but most of the time.
I feel like it is very obvious to me that the developers and storywriters coded Kaveh and Alhaitham as having a more than a friendship relationship with one another. I think many people get thrown off by their relationship though because it isn't a stereotypical "aww baby anime yaoi boys" thing.
The way I've always seen things is that Kaveh and Alhaitham met while they were studying at the Akademiya (as per the interdarshan championship event story they worked on a project together i think) and they got into a relationship with one another. I think we see them in the sorry state they are now because the relationship simply never worked out. Kaveh is more of an empathetic, quick to show his feelings type person and I think it's obvious that Alhaitham doesn't know how to communicate in a relationship with someone like that because he is not very emotional / empathetic. I feel like the reason Kaveh is always talking about Haitham and fixating on how much he bothers him is because Kaveh has always liked Alhaitham but never quite felt it was reciprocated bc of Haitham's personality. This is why Kaveh and Alhaitham bicker with each other so much, not because they just hate each other's guts, but because there is SO much bitterness between them as a result of their conflicting personalities. Kaveh being the person he is probably thought he could get a second chance through having an opportunity to room with Haitham and quickly found out that wasn't the case.
I don't think straight men or men who just don't care for each other at all would be so taken up with eachother the way that they are. I think their relationship is a depiction of an unhealthy relationship between two guys who really like one another but can't work things out because their personalities conflict so tremendously. Also I mean Kaveh's dad passed at a young age and there is probably some Freudian type projection shit going on there too. I wish I could explain it better but to me it's so obvious that it's a bitter non platonic relationship born out of major character / psychological conflict. Kaveh wants Alhaitham to meet his needs so badly but Haitham can't and that's why they are so bitter and scorned with each other.
I don't really understand some arguments against the ship bc they are conflicting. Some people say they just hate eachother and others say they are just friends. I don't "ship" them, I just feel like to me personally it is very obvious that they ARE two queer guys in a really bad relationship. Kind of like a Nintendo Flick and Cj thing where they're so obviously mlm but the developer won't say it for obvious or less obvious reasons. To dismiss them by saying "why can't they just be friends!!? why do you all have to make everything gay!!" without having a good argument I think is just ignoring the story substance. Maybe other than Cynari I don't think there's any other mlm ship that actually presents itself as near canon in the game.
submitted by phosxcinnabar to KavehMains [link] [comments]
I feel like it is very obvious to me that the developers and storywriters coded Kaveh and Alhaitham as having a more than a friendship relationship with one another. I think many people get thrown off by their relationship though because it isn't a stereotypical "aww baby anime yaoi boys" thing.
The way I've always seen things is that Kaveh and Alhaitham met while they were studying at the Akademiya (as per the interdarshan championship event story they worked on a project together i think) and they got into a relationship with one another. I think we see them in the sorry state they are now because the relationship simply never worked out. Kaveh is more of an empathetic, quick to show his feelings type person and I think it's obvious that Alhaitham doesn't know how to communicate in a relationship with someone like that because he is not very emotional / empathetic. I feel like the reason Kaveh is always talking about Haitham and fixating on how much he bothers him is because Kaveh has always liked Alhaitham but never quite felt it was reciprocated bc of Haitham's personality. This is why Kaveh and Alhaitham bicker with each other so much, not because they just hate each other's guts, but because there is SO much bitterness between them as a result of their conflicting personalities. Kaveh being the person he is probably thought he could get a second chance through having an opportunity to room with Haitham and quickly found out that wasn't the case.
I don't think straight men or men who just don't care for each other at all would be so taken up with eachother the way that they are. I think their relationship is a depiction of an unhealthy relationship between two guys who really like one another but can't work things out because their personalities conflict so tremendously. Also I mean Kaveh's dad passed at a young age and there is probably some Freudian type projection shit going on there too. I wish I could explain it better but to me it's so obvious that it's a bitter non platonic relationship born out of major character / psychological conflict. Kaveh wants Alhaitham to meet his needs so badly but Haitham can't and that's why they are so bitter and scorned with each other.
I don't really understand some arguments against the ship bc they are conflicting. Some people say they just hate eachother and others say they are just friends. I don't "ship" them, I just feel like to me personally it is very obvious that they ARE two queer guys in a really bad relationship. Kind of like a Nintendo Flick and Cj thing where they're so obviously mlm but the developer won't say it for obvious or less obvious reasons. To dismiss them by saying "why can't they just be friends!!? why do you all have to make everything gay!!" without having a good argument I think is just ignoring the story substance. Maybe other than Cynari I don't think there's any other mlm ship that actually presents itself as near canon in the game.
2023.06.01 20:23 dieSchleiereule7362 Bottom Dysphoria & The Decreasing of Gender Dysphoria throughout Transition: Something I'd like Transmeds to Consider
I need to preface this post with the fact I'm not a Transmedicalist.
I'd also like to note I recognize that gender dysphoria cannot be completely eliminated via medical and/or surgical transition for many trans people. Additionally: When I say the phrase "no longer gender dysphoric" I am not referring to "one realizing their gender aligns with their natal sex and thus wishes to detransition", I mean "one's gender and sex are now aligned—thanks to transition—to the point they no longer feel gender dysphoria".
I started my medical transition at 19, though I've known I was a guy since ~5 years old. My parents are financially supportive of my transition; my mother being semi-emotionally-supportive as well. I've been incredibly lucky to have been able to change the name & sex marker on all of my documents, start HRT, and undergo two transition-related surgeries (a total hysterectomy in mid-2022 and Top Surgery 5 weeks ago). I have a wonderful gf who has been with me throught all the ups and downs.
For those curious: Yes, I was diagnosed with gender dysphoria when I was ~15 [it was "GID" or "gender identity disorder" at the time].
I'll also note I born into and raised in Mormonism/the LDS church (the area I lived in bordered on being near-FLDS in terms of the culture). I am [unofficially, unfortunately] no longer Mormon.
Since medically and surgically transitioning, my gender dysphoria has lessened to a degree that it feels non-existent. This state of being was something I couldn't even imagine back when I was, say, 13. I struggled with my mental health...quite a bit...back then. (Hell, I used to think I wouldn't make it to 18.) The difference between my mental state then versus now is like night and day.
There have been a few changes within the community over the years, with the biggest being the increased acceptance towards non-binary people.
However, there's one particular controversial sentiment that has remained unaltered by time. I'd like to talk about it here while sharing a bit of my personal transition journey. My hope is that it—at the very least—gets some within the Transmed community reevaluating how they think/speak about "trans people who do not have gender dysphoria".
Before I begin, I'd like to take a moment to state the only uniting belief among Transmeds is the belief that "a trans person must experience gender dysphoria in order to be trans". Outside of this single belief, I acknowledge Transmeds can be diverse in their views.
The "controversial sentiment" I'm talking about has a few branching & overlapping parts to it (as well as different "flavors"), but, generally speaking: It is the belief that a 'real' trans person wouldn't/shouldn't be sexual—in any way—until undergoing genital SRS; that desiring/having genital SRS is a must in order to be considered 'truly' trans.
Below, I'll list some of the ways this belief is often expressed and comment with a few of my thoughts on each.
As someone who grew up in a religion where masturbation and sex [before marriage] were "sins", fuck that. Nobody is "less"/not trans for having a sex drive. There is nothing wrong with desiring sex & wanting to feel good.
Three words: It doesn't matter.
What feels good, feels good—and people want to feel good. What people get up to behind closed doors isn't any of our business.
To suggest that using one's genitals sexually means someone must not be gender dysphoric over them is not only rude, but also misunderstanding how dysphoria and sex can interact, different ways of managing gender dysphoria, and it's ignoring the fact gender dysphoria can fluctuate. There are both mental and physical ways trans people with bottom dysphoria can have sex while keeping their gender dysphoria at bay.
As a post-transition guy myself, I'd like to mention [binary] trans people—at the same or similar point in their transitons—may no longer feel they have any gential-specific gender dysphoria [for a plethora of reasons].
This does not, inherently, mean said [binary] trans people are "not"/"no longer" trans or binary trans. I find this belief especially insulting because it nearly aligns with the transphobic belief that in order to be a "real" man or woman, one must have a specific set of genitalia. Now, this isn't to imply a vulva can be male or a penis can be female; but I will say it's ignorant to base the "real-ness" of a [binary] trans person on whether or not they have had [or desire] bottom surgery, and/or if they use their genitals sexually, and/or if they have no gender dysphoria over their genitalia.
In a roundabout sort of way, it almost feels as if some transmeds don't consider what life is/can be like for trans people who are post-transition, without bottom surgery, and/or no longer gender dysphoric. I see it in the way "not having dysphoria" is talked about within Transmed spaces; nobody seems to consider post-transtion "non-dysphoric" trans people.
In other words: If it would change, how would the way you frame/state "gender dysphoria is required to be trans" if you took into consideration post-transition trans people who are no longer gender dysphoric?
I'm curious to hear your throughts on this.
submitted by dieSchleiereule7362 to truscum [link] [comments]
I'd also like to note I recognize that gender dysphoria cannot be completely eliminated via medical and/or surgical transition for many trans people. Additionally: When I say the phrase "no longer gender dysphoric" I am not referring to "one realizing their gender aligns with their natal sex and thus wishes to detransition", I mean "one's gender and sex are now aligned—thanks to transition—to the point they no longer feel gender dysphoria".
Introduction & Background
I'm a 23 year old, post-transition, non-disclosing/"stealth" [save for when necessary] dude currently living within a red state in the US.I started my medical transition at 19, though I've known I was a guy since ~5 years old. My parents are financially supportive of my transition; my mother being semi-emotionally-supportive as well. I've been incredibly lucky to have been able to change the name & sex marker on all of my documents, start HRT, and undergo two transition-related surgeries (a total hysterectomy in mid-2022 and Top Surgery 5 weeks ago). I have a wonderful gf who has been with me throught all the ups and downs.
For those curious: Yes, I was diagnosed with gender dysphoria when I was ~15 [it was "GID" or "gender identity disorder" at the time].
I'll also note I born into and raised in Mormonism/the LDS church (the area I lived in bordered on being near-FLDS in terms of the culture). I am [unofficially, unfortunately] no longer Mormon.
Since medically and surgically transitioning, my gender dysphoria has lessened to a degree that it feels non-existent. This state of being was something I couldn't even imagine back when I was, say, 13. I struggled with my mental health...quite a bit...back then. (Hell, I used to think I wouldn't make it to 18.) The difference between my mental state then versus now is like night and day.
It isn't Always so Black and White
I've been both in and around the [online] Transmed/"Truscum" community since 2014.There have been a few changes within the community over the years, with the biggest being the increased acceptance towards non-binary people.
However, there's one particular controversial sentiment that has remained unaltered by time. I'd like to talk about it here while sharing a bit of my personal transition journey. My hope is that it—at the very least—gets some within the Transmed community reevaluating how they think/speak about "trans people who do not have gender dysphoria".
Before I begin, I'd like to take a moment to state the only uniting belief among Transmeds is the belief that "a trans person must experience gender dysphoria in order to be trans". Outside of this single belief, I acknowledge Transmeds can be diverse in their views.
The "controversial sentiment" I'm talking about has a few branching & overlapping parts to it (as well as different "flavors"), but, generally speaking: It is the belief that a 'real' trans person wouldn't/shouldn't be sexual—in any way—until undergoing genital SRS; that desiring/having genital SRS is a must in order to be considered 'truly' trans.
Below, I'll list some of the ways this belief is often expressed and comment with a few of my thoughts on each.
1.) "A 'real' trans person would/should never ['want to use' or 'use'] their pre-op genitals sexually."This assumes every trans person shares the same "level" [for lack of better word] of gender dysphoria as well as declares that being completely abstinent from sex & masturbation is the only "correct/real" way one can be trans without bottom surgery.
As someone who grew up in a religion where masturbation and sex [before marriage] were "sins", fuck that. Nobody is "less"/not trans for having a sex drive. There is nothing wrong with desiring sex & wanting to feel good.
2.) "Gender dysphoria prevents a 'real' trans person from having a sex life and/or masturbating."This is true for some trans people. There are people out there [trans or not] who have the ability to mentally "seperate" sex/masturbation from everyday life. The way someone thinks/acts/feels when they're turned on isn't always a reflection of how they think/act/feel when they're not; someone who is into being insulted in the bedroom may not like being insulted in the workplace, etc, etc. Some people can create that mental divide between pleasure & who-they-are-as-an-actual-person, others can't, and there's nothing inherently "wrong" with either.
3.) "Any trans man who enjoys 'front hole' penetration isn't a 'real'/'complete' man." / "Any trans woman who enjoys penetrating others isn't a 'real'/'complete' woman."I'm going to comment on both 3 and 4 simultaneously, as they tend to go hand-in-hand.
4.) "If a binary trans person has no genital gender dysphoria, they are not 'full' men/women; they are non-binary."
Three words: It doesn't matter.
What feels good, feels good—and people want to feel good. What people get up to behind closed doors isn't any of our business.
To suggest that using one's genitals sexually means someone must not be gender dysphoric over them is not only rude, but also misunderstanding how dysphoria and sex can interact, different ways of managing gender dysphoria, and it's ignoring the fact gender dysphoria can fluctuate. There are both mental and physical ways trans people with bottom dysphoria can have sex while keeping their gender dysphoria at bay.
As a post-transition guy myself, I'd like to mention [binary] trans people—at the same or similar point in their transitons—may no longer feel they have any gential-specific gender dysphoria [for a plethora of reasons].
This does not, inherently, mean said [binary] trans people are "not"/"no longer" trans or binary trans. I find this belief especially insulting because it nearly aligns with the transphobic belief that in order to be a "real" man or woman, one must have a specific set of genitalia. Now, this isn't to imply a vulva can be male or a penis can be female; but I will say it's ignorant to base the "real-ness" of a [binary] trans person on whether or not they have had [or desire] bottom surgery, and/or if they use their genitals sexually, and/or if they have no gender dysphoria over their genitalia.
Closing Thoughts
It's strange to me that the possibility of lessening/eliminating genital dysphoria and/or having a sex life—with no bottom surgery—due to a decrease in gender dysphoria (via transitioning in other departments [HRT, other surgeries, etc.]) isn't at the least acknowledged among most transmeds in a positive light. The topic only ever seems to be brought up with a twinge of skepticism behind every word (as in, questioning if the trans person is "really" a man/woman if they're no longer dysphoric while having an "incomplete" transition/no bottom surgery). It's so bizarre to me because the whole point in transition is to decrease feelings of gender dysphoria.In a roundabout sort of way, it almost feels as if some transmeds don't consider what life is/can be like for trans people who are post-transition, without bottom surgery, and/or no longer gender dysphoric. I see it in the way "not having dysphoria" is talked about within Transmed spaces; nobody seems to consider post-transtion "non-dysphoric" trans people.
In other words: If it would change, how would the way you frame/state "gender dysphoria is required to be trans" if you took into consideration post-transition trans people who are no longer gender dysphoric?
I'm curious to hear your throughts on this.
2023.06.01 20:23 srrrrrrrrrrrrs From bloody nipples, slow supply & combo feeding to EBF! We did it!
FTM and the first few weeks of breastfeeding were absolute torture. I couldn't get my pain under control, my nipples were inflamed and bleeding and I felt like I was trying everything I could but each feed (especially night feeds) put me in a darker place. She lost a significant amount of weight and my supply took what felt like forever to come in. I knew she wasn't eating enough but all I got from the lactation consultant was "you're doing great mama (:". Oh! And the time the nurse grabbed my aching boob like a ham sandwich without warning and shoved it in my daughters face even after just telling her how much pain I was in. Her first pediatrician visit showed that she was loosing weight and would need to supplement soon if my supply didn't come in quick
I would feed for 45 minutes to an hour, pump for another 40 minutes, and give her the expressed milk and she would still be screaming for more. I was trying my best but I just couldn't tolerate the pain as I was in tears every single feed and it was clear what I was doing wasn't enough. I was scared of feeding her with how much pain I was experiencing. I felt like a failure, I felt like I didn't deserve to be her mother, I felt like I was starving my child into sickness.
The morning of her 2nd weigh in I couldn't help but start bawling every time I looked at my daughter because I felt so ashamed of myself. I just remember feeling like she would be so much better off without me.
Dad stepped in and helped me come to terms with it all and kept me from sinking any lower. We started combo feeding to give my poor nipples a break and to keep me from falling into an even worse mental state. Weeks later I was trying to pump more and more, testing different herbs/supplements, eating oatmeal with tablespoons of chia and flax seeds and chugging coconut water. And still, I would only see about 5-10ml of expressed milk each session which was no where near what she needed. The workload of pumping was taking a toll on me with little to nothing to show for it. That on top of trying to heal my own body was just exhausting.
Around month 2-3, I started to be more adamant about breastfeeding her as much as possible because pumping was just too depressing and my pain was much more manageable. We cut formula down and would only use it when absolutely necessary. We slowly transferred more and more into breastfeeding. Our bond was growing stronger and I was starting to see the effects of BF both on her and myself.
14 weeks in and this is our first whole week EBF! I've got a small stash going in the freezer for when I need to leave the house and I have a happy healthy baby on my boob (,:
Thank y'all for helping me get this far, scrolling through everyone's own stories and suggestions helped tremendously & I felt less alone during my darkest times!!
submitted by srrrrrrrrrrrrs to breastfeeding [link] [comments]
I would feed for 45 minutes to an hour, pump for another 40 minutes, and give her the expressed milk and she would still be screaming for more. I was trying my best but I just couldn't tolerate the pain as I was in tears every single feed and it was clear what I was doing wasn't enough. I was scared of feeding her with how much pain I was experiencing. I felt like a failure, I felt like I didn't deserve to be her mother, I felt like I was starving my child into sickness.
The morning of her 2nd weigh in I couldn't help but start bawling every time I looked at my daughter because I felt so ashamed of myself. I just remember feeling like she would be so much better off without me.
Dad stepped in and helped me come to terms with it all and kept me from sinking any lower. We started combo feeding to give my poor nipples a break and to keep me from falling into an even worse mental state. Weeks later I was trying to pump more and more, testing different herbs/supplements, eating oatmeal with tablespoons of chia and flax seeds and chugging coconut water. And still, I would only see about 5-10ml of expressed milk each session which was no where near what she needed. The workload of pumping was taking a toll on me with little to nothing to show for it. That on top of trying to heal my own body was just exhausting.
Around month 2-3, I started to be more adamant about breastfeeding her as much as possible because pumping was just too depressing and my pain was much more manageable. We cut formula down and would only use it when absolutely necessary. We slowly transferred more and more into breastfeeding. Our bond was growing stronger and I was starting to see the effects of BF both on her and myself.
14 weeks in and this is our first whole week EBF! I've got a small stash going in the freezer for when I need to leave the house and I have a happy healthy baby on my boob (,:
Thank y'all for helping me get this far, scrolling through everyone's own stories and suggestions helped tremendously & I felt less alone during my darkest times!!
2023.06.01 20:23 Glue-Hedges TD-3 trouble getting sound
I bought this second hand in mint condition. Everything was sealed in the plastic wrap nothing had been used save for the unit itself which also by all appearances was in mint/near unused condition. However, when I plug it in, I’m unable to get any sound out of it. Because it is used I suspect that there is some setting That I don’t know about preventing me from getting audio by playing the chromatic keys. Does anyone have any experience with this, or know how to fix it? Many thanks in advance, your boy is sad… disclaimer. I don’t know what the hell I am doing with synthesizers - noob.
submitted by Glue-Hedges to synthesizers [link] [comments]
2023.06.01 20:23 AsheronRealaidain Farming and Persistence…
Hey all,
So I’m doing my first play through in a while and have a quick question about farming. I know that persistence in this game is only a thing when you’re x number of times away. IE if you leave a generator running across the map it won’t burn any fuel until you get within x tiles of it. It’s one of the few things that really bothers me
However. Does this apply to farming? I was out driving around exploring around my base and it was raining most of the time. But when I came back to base it had stopped. The ground was soaking wet but the bucket I left outside was empty
Does this mean my plants won’t get watered by rain unless I’m near them? Similarly, if my plants are fully watered but I got to an outpost for a week - will my plants stop growing during that time?
Thanks for the help!
submitted by AsheronRealaidain to projectzomboid [link] [comments]
So I’m doing my first play through in a while and have a quick question about farming. I know that persistence in this game is only a thing when you’re x number of times away. IE if you leave a generator running across the map it won’t burn any fuel until you get within x tiles of it. It’s one of the few things that really bothers me
However. Does this apply to farming? I was out driving around exploring around my base and it was raining most of the time. But when I came back to base it had stopped. The ground was soaking wet but the bucket I left outside was empty
Does this mean my plants won’t get watered by rain unless I’m near them? Similarly, if my plants are fully watered but I got to an outpost for a week - will my plants stop growing during that time?
Thanks for the help!
2023.06.01 20:21 yowsu123 29 (M4F) 1NS near or around PASIG
Cheating is a choice and I choose to cheat now to spiced up our relationship. Minsan nakakasawa na din kaya gusto kong mag explore ng ibang sex life. It sounds bad pero this is my first time to cheat after 11years of being together. Gusto ko lang ma-experience yung ibang feeling please don't get me wrong and I know na open-minded naman mga tao dito. 😊
About me:
submitted by yowsu123 to PHhandsgonewild [link] [comments]
About me:
- Medium size (dadbod)
- 5'7 height
- With tattoos
- Cute smile
- Moreno
- Neat and clean
2023.06.01 20:21 Flaky-Event-3979 I want to have an animal centered career but I’ve been out of the game for so long I don’t know where to start.
I’m 27F and live in Southern California, 4 years ago I was going to school at San Francisco State attempting to get a bachelors in biology and hoping to eventually get to veterinary school. Although this is not an excuse, school was incredibly tremulous for me and bc of some financial, mental and emotional issues I dropped out. Throughout that entire time though, the most enjoyable thing I found about my academic career was all the volunteer work I did in animal hospitals and animal shelters. I was incredibly fortunate to have an animal hospital near me that let me be incredibly hands on, sitting in on surgeries, assisting with blood draws, waking patients from surgeries, preparing patients for surgeries and the like. I volunteered for around 6 months but it was definitely the best six months of my entire schooling, now I’m home and a real estate agent and have a few other part time jobs to save money. I do enjoy being a realtor but animals still definitely hold a special place. I enjoy real estate bc it’s giving me the opportunity to set up a better future for my family, I have no kids but my dad works incredibly hard and I want to build a better future for him and my other immediate family. Unfortunately I’ve noticed that other than veterinary work, animal based careers don’t pay much and while money isn’t everything it is important to the future I’m trying to create for my family. I do however want to get back into the field one way or another. I love working with animals, especially exotics. Along with my boyfriends dog, I own two snakes, a crested gecko, and a tarantula and working with animals such as these would be an absolute dream some day. I’m simply looking for advice at this point as to where to go next, I’m at a loss as to what my next steps should be to work where I want. I want to see if maybe I could replace some of my current part times with more animal based ones, however I know that a lot of them take schooling and I don’t know how to start that. I’ve looked into volunteer opportunities at zoos and such however their previous experience sections are very dense and much less than what I have. I’ve worked in dog daycares and reception at animal hospitals but this still isn’t enough. Through my past years I’ve learned that a desk based job where I need to sit and do logistical work for long hrs isn’t for me. I learned that I thrive in fast, hands on work. I state this simply to give you an idea of the work environment that is more cooperative for me. If anyone could offer advice please feel free, I greatly appreciate it.
submitted by Flaky-Event-3979 to findapath [link] [comments]
2023.06.01 20:20 JacobviBritannia I don't know how to explain what happened to me at Sunset Grove
For a long time, I thought there was no greater feeling of dread than clocking into a job you hate. Three days a week after school and every other weekend, there I was, standing in front of the time clock at Sunset Grove. By the time I was sixteen, my parents told me that I had to find a job and start working. Unfortunately, there weren’t many options for a sixteen-year-old looking for work in Driftwood. It was either fast food, retail, or a retirement home. For whatever reason, I chose the retirement home.
It’s not that I had a problem with starting work at that age, it’s just that scrubbing pureed vegetables and mashed potatoes off fifty plates a night, with the cook yelling over my shoulder to pick up the pace, wasn’t exactly fulfilling work. The pocket money was nice, though. There’s nothing better than being a teenager with almost nothing but disposable income.
I watched the digital clock tick over from 3:59 to 4:00, begrudgingly typed in my employee ID, and made my way to the kitchen. As always, there was a stack of dishes left over from the shift before mine that would leave me playing catch-up for the rest of the night.
Becca, a thirty-something waitress with pale skin and a slim figure, swept through the doors as I was working through my stack. She was the only member of the wait staff I knew who could manage to keep a sunny disposition no matter how bad the day got.
Her shoulders seemed to relax a little when she saw me. “Hey, Arty, I need glasses.”
“Got it,” I replied.
“Thank you!” she said in a sing-song voice as she picked up a tub of silverware and rushed back out the doors. The wait staff was always in a rush this time of day. They only had about a half-hour to set the tables before some of the early-birds started showing up for dinner.
I loaded a tray with glasses and sent them through the commercial steam washer to my left, pulling the hood down with a heavy metal clunk. Once they were done, Becca came through and took the tray out to the dining room.
Before long, the cook began setting out room service trays. I never understood why it was the dishwasher’s job to deliver room service, but nevertheless, I began loading the trays into my cart. Most room service orders came from the same residents, which meant I’d long since worked out the most efficient way to load the cart. As I was loading, I noticed one of my regulars, room 2H, was missing. It could have been that she just decided to have dinner in the dining room today, but as long as I’d been working at Sunset Grove, I’d never known 2H to have dinner anywhere but her room.
As I walked down the hallway past 2H, I realized why. There on the door was a small laminated sign with a photo of the woman who’d lived in 2H.
Lilith Holmes 1928 - 2014
That was it. Just a name and a pair of dates. Not even a “Rest in Peace.” But it got the point across. I felt a tinge of guilt at the fact that I hadn’t known the woman’s name. I’d been working at Sunset Grove for a year, and I still referred to most of the residents by their room numbers.
This wasn’t the first of these types of signs I’d seen. There had been two or three deaths in the past year, each one memorialized with a cheap laminated sign that would be taken down after a week or two. It may sound callous, but I was never bothered by the deaths. They were simply a fact of life working in a place full of people entering the final phase of their lives. It helped that I didn’t make much effort to get close to the residents. I never wanted this place to bleed into what I considered to be my real life, so whenever I was at Sunset Grove, I was in “work mode.” I would put on a kind face, greet coworkers and residents with a smile, and otherwise speak only when spoken to. It was easier that way.
Room 2H stayed empty for a month. The sign, as they always do, disappeared after a while. I wondered if that meant they’d already cleaned out all of Mrs. Holmes’s belongings or if they were still entombed behind that locked door.
Eventually, the day came that I had a room service tray for room 2H again. It seemed so sudden. I hadn’t heard anything about a new resident moving in. I shrugged it off and loaded the tray onto my cart, thinking it must have happened on one of my days off. I hoped the new tenant wouldn’t be a handful. I may not have known Mrs. Holmes well, but she was always nice and courteous to me when I brought her her food. It’s more than I could say for some of the other residents.
I rode the elevator up to the second floor. Room 2H was my second stop from there. I knocked and pushed open the door into the dimly lit room. The blinds were all drawn, and there was only a single table lamp turned on in the corner across the room. I could see the new tenant sitting in a recliner on the opposite wall. It was a woman, with curled white hair that fell to her hunched shoulders. In the dark, I couldn’t make out her face, but her form was familiar. As I got closer, I realized it was Mrs. Holmes sitting in the chair.
I faltered. “I... have your dinner here for you, ma’am,” I stammered.
“Oh, good,” she said. “Set it on the table here, dear.” Her tone was jovial like always, though it felt strained. As if she were forcing it.
I set the tray down on the end table beside her. As she turned to look at it, her eyes seemed to catch the tiny amount of light in the room and glowed for a split second.
“Thank you,” she chimed.
“You’re welcome,” I said, turning on my heel and heading for the door.
I stopped by the second floor nurse’s station on my way down the hall and found Ted inside. He was a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair, known around the facility for his eccentric taste in scrubs. Today’s were navy blue with a messy pattern of stars. Ted was the only nurse I knew by name, mostly because he gave me no other choice. It was common knowledge at Sunset Grove that if Ted wanted to chat you up, there was nothing you could do to stop it.
“Hey, Ted,” I said, poking my head around the door.
“Arthur!” he called, sitting back in his chair. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I saw Mrs. Holmes is back,” I said. “What happened? Why was she gone?”
“Sorry, bud, I shouldn’t really be gossiping about that.”
“I understand. It’s just... there was that sign on her door a while ago. I thought she died.”
“Oh, that,” Ted laughed. “That was a little misunderstanding. But as you saw, she’s alive and well.”
“Right,” I said. “I should go. I’ve still got a cart full of meals to deliver.”
“Best not keep ‘em waiting!” Ted joked as I left the nurse’s station.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Mrs. Holmes for the remainder of my shift that night. How could the nurses make such a drastic mistake, confusing a resident for dead? And where exactly had Mrs. Holmes been for the past month? At the hospital? With family? The whole thing irked me more than it probably should have. I didn’t like thinking about this place during my time off, but thoughts of Mrs. Holmes stuck with me all week.
I delivered room service to her the rest of the week. Each time I entered 2H, the blinds were drawn, the room kept dark. As always, I set her tray down on the end table next to the recliner, she thanked me, and I moved on to the next room.
The next stop on my route was 2K, Ms. Ganz, whose name I only knew because she had a reputation around the building for being very outwardly spoken. There was rarely a week that went by where I wasn’t overhearing the nurses laughing about something Ms. Ganz had said that day.
Most days, Ms. Ganz left her door open. I knocked anyway and passed through the open frame. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, rubbing her temples before she looked up and saw me.
“Set it down right there,” she instructed, pointing to the rolling TV stand where she took her dinner every day.
I did as she said and set the food down on the stand, forcing a smile for good measure. She scooted off the bed and hobbled over to the chair to sit down. I pushed the stand closer to her and lowered it down so she could reach. She examined the tray, then picked up the pudding cup and handed it to me.
“You take that,” she said. “I don’t need it.”
“That’s alright,” I protested. “I don’t need it either.”
Ms. Ganz pawning her desserts off on me was beginning to become a habit. As I tried to set the pudding cup back on the tray, she pushed it back toward me. It clearly wasn’t a fight I was going to win, so I relented and accepted the pudding.
Ms. Ganz got to work preparing her coffee, which she had with every meal. I always loaded her tray with three creams and three sugars, but I’d learned in time to wait until she finished mixing before I left because, more often than not, she’d ask for more.
“Is this decaf?” she asked.
“That’s right,” I said.
She grumbled. “I need caffeine. People keeping me up all night. Knocking on my door.”
“Knocking on your door?”
“Middle of the night,” Ms. Ganz exclaimed. “They come, they knock, I open the door, and they’re gone. My family doesn’t pay $2000 a month for me to get pranked all night long.”
“Have you talked to the nurses about it?” I asked.
She snorted. “They’re probably the ones doing it.” Ms. Ganz winced and reached for her forehead. “Now, I’ve had this headache all day thanks to them.”
“Sorry about that. I hope you feel better,” I said as I made my way out of the room.
It became apparent very quickly Ms. Ganz wasn’t the only resident dealing with these problems. I overheard the nurses talking about multiple residents on the second floor complaining about someone knocking on their door at night. It only got worse throughout the week, with even more residents complaining. There were more complaints of headaches, too. Some residents even started exhibiting symptoms of fever.
When I came to serve Ms. Ganz her dinner a week later, her door was shut. I knocked and turned the handle. It wasn’t locked, so I went inside. Ms. Ganz was lying in bed, a fresh sheen of sweat shimmering in the light across her forehead. She hadn’t even touched her lunch. I quietly swapped the trays, trying not to disturb her and tip-toed out of the room, stopping by the nurses’ station before I got back to work. Ted was there again, wearing a loud, floral-patterned set of scrubs this time.
“Hey, Ted, is Ms. Ganz alright?” I asked.
“She’s just a little under the weather,” he said. “She’s not the only one. There’s some kind of bug going around.”
Ted scooted his chair across the room and pulled something out of a box. He tossed me a medical mask.
“You should probably wear one of these while you’re goin’ into rooms,” he said.
I nodded and put the mask on, leaving Ted to his work. There were four more residents laid up in bed on the second floor. Weirdly, no one on the first or third floor seemed to be affected.
Things only seemed to get worse as the days went on. More and more residents were laid up with fevers. Soon enough, no one on the second floor was healthy enough to go to the dining room, which meant my room service runs were getting longer by the day. Now that I had to deliver trays to every room on the second floor, there was no way I could get it done on my own, but even with Becca helping me with runs, I was still clocking out of work an hour late most nights.
As we rolled the cart up to room 2H, Becca hesitated.
“Do you mind getting this one?” she asked.
I raised an eyebrow. “Sure.”
I had no problem bringing Mrs. Holmes her food. What caught me off guard was the way Becca seemed to give the room a wide berth as we passed and the trepidation in her voice as she spoke.
“Thanks, Arty,” Becca said. “Something about her just creeps me out. Don’t you feel that?”
“It’s a little weird how she sits in the dark all the time,” I admitted, “but I wouldn’t call it creepy.”
“So brave,” Becca teased. “I’ll bring Ms. Ganz her tray and meet you down the hall.”
“Sounds good.”
I knocked on the door and went into 2H. As expected, Mrs. Holmes was seated in her recliner with the blinds drawn and the single lamp on in the corner. Sometimes I wondered if she ever even moved from that spot.
“How are you feeling, Mrs. Holmes?” I asked through the medical mask I was now required to wear at all times while on the second floor.
“Are you a nurse now?” She asked. Her tone seemed intended to be joking, but it came across more accusatory.
“No, it’s just that we can’t seem to get rid of this bug going around. I was just curious if you were still feeling alright.”
“I’m fine,” she said flatly.
Mrs. Holmes was the only resident on the second floor who wasn’t sick. The bug hadn’t spread to any of the staff members either. A thought occurred to me.
“Have you heard anyone knocking on your door at night?” I asked.
Mrs. Holmes’s eyes shot to mine, momentarily glowing in the light as they had once before. She stared at me with wide eyes that seemed to be studying me.
Finally, her tight lips peeled apart and she simply said, “I have not.”
Suddenly, I understood why Becca hadn’t wanted to come in here. I could feel the goose flesh spreading across my arm and a shiver run down my spine. I didn’t want to linger here any longer than I had to.
“Have a good night,” I said, mimicking my usual tone, before hustling out of the room.
I grabbed the cart and pushed it quickly down the hall toward Ms. Ganz’s room where I would find Becca, but as I rounded the corner, I saw a crowd of nurses surrounding the door. Becca was standing off to the side, a distraught look on her face.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I went in to give her her food,” Becca choked out. “Her eyes were open, so I thought she was awake. So, I asked her if she had enough cream and sugar for her coffee, but she didn’t respond.”
“Oh no,” I realized.
“That’s never happened to me before,” Becca said. “I’ve never seen one of them after... after they died. Sorry, Arty, I need to take five. Do you think you can finish this yourself today?”
“That’s fine. I’ve got it.”
Becca laid her hand on my shoulder as she walked away, her other hand combing through her hair.
Becca didn’t come in the next day. With the wait staff being short handed, I had to do the room service deliveries myself. I hesitated before going into 2H, but when I reached for the handle, I was relieved to find that it was locked. Some of the nurses must have been inside, so I left the tray by the door and went on my way.
As I passed by Ms. Ganz’s room, I saw the sign.
Mallory Ganz 1939 - 2014
She was about ten years younger in the photo, smiling next to her daughter. I felt a tug inside my gut and suddenly realized I wanted to know what was happening. Where was this sickness coming from? Why wasn’t it affecting the residents on the first or third floors or the staff? And why was Mrs. Holmes the only resident on the second floor who was still healthy?
I finished delivering trays and stashed the cart in the corner. I figured I had at least ten more minutes before my boss would start wondering where I was, so I found Ted in the nurse’s station.
“Hey, Ted, are you busy?” I asked.
“Never not busy, Arthur,” he grinned. “What can I do for you?”
“You’ve heard the residents complaining about someone knocking on their doors at night, right? Do you have any idea what that might be about?”
He sighed. “Yeah, I’ve heard all about it. Best I can figure, it’s someone screwin’ around on the night shift.”
“Well, there are cameras, right? Couldn’t we find out who’s doing it?”
Ted’s brow furled. “Why are you so interested?”
“I don’t know,” I lied. “I guess it’s just that, whoever it was, they were bothering Ms. Ganz. I thought maybe we could find them and get them to stop to, like, honor her in a way.”
Ted pushed an office chair toward me with his foot. “Sit down a minute. I’ll pull up the footage.”
“Thank you.”
I sat down and watched Ted scrub through last night’s security footage. It was strange seeing the hallway so empty. During the daytime hours, there were constantly nurses or housekeepers coming up and down the halls, but at night, they were dead.
Suddenly, there was a flash of movement on the screen. Ted let go of the mouse and let the footage play out in real-time. I felt my chest tighten as I recognized the figure on the screen. Mrs. Holmes. I watched her walk down the hall, moving with an unnatural weightlessness for her age. She stopped in front of Ms. Ganz’s room and knocked on the door. Then, all of a sudden, she just faded away.
I leaned in closer to the screen. Ted sat upright in his chair.
“Was that a glitch?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “The timecode looks normal, but it must’ve been. Either way, I guess we know who’s been causin’ trouble at night. I’ll have a word with Mrs. Holmes.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I blurted out.
Ted looked at me quizzically. I didn’t know how to explain it, but I knew something was off about Mrs. Holmes. There was no telling what would happen if someone confronted her, but how was I supposed to convince Ted of that?
“Sorry,” I said. “Thanks for the help, Ted.”
I left the nurse’s station without saying another word. I could only hope that my initial warning would be enough to make Ted hesitate until I could figure out what to do next.
My heart dropped when I couldn’t find Ted the next day. He was always there. Every single weekday, he was there.
None of the other nurses had seen him either. Apparently, he hadn’t called out sick or anything. As far as anyone knew, he simply hadn’t shown up for work. But I knew better. I knew he’d gone and talked to Mrs. Holmes, and she’d done something to him. Could he still be there, inside room 2H? Was he still alive? Had he mentioned me?
I worked the first hour of my shift constantly looking over my shoulder. By 5:00, the cook started lining up room service trays. I was on my own again. Apparently, Becca was taking some time off after what she’d been through. I couldn’t blame her, but I found myself desperately wishing I didn’t have to be alone.
My heart thumped with dread every step I took toward room 2H. I prayed the door would be locked again, but no such luck. I pushed the door open slowly and let the light from the hall flood into the dim room. Mrs. Holmes was in her recliner, but as I got closer, I noticed her eyes were shut. She was asleep.
I set the tray down quietly and made for the door, but before I left, I felt curiosity tug me back. I wanted to know what happened to Ted. If there was any trace of him in the room, this might be my only chance to find it.
I inched heel-toe back through the entryway and into the bedroom. I found an antique lamp on the nightstand and flipped it on, bathing the room in a hazy yellow light. The room was pristine, not even a crease in the bedding. I didn’t know what I was looking for. Blood? A body? Just anything that would confirm the insane thoughts that were running through my mind.
I moved to the bathroom, but, like the bedroom, it was spotless. I checked every inch of it, even getting down on my hands and knees to inspect the bath mat for blood stains. I was starting to feel like a lunatic. Maybe everything that was happening was exactly what it seemed, and the rest of it was all just in my head.
Feeling a little ridiculous, I stepped out of the bathroom, gently closing the door behind me.
“What were you doing in there?” Mrs. Holmes’s voice was sharp and sent a jolt of fear through my body.
I turned and saw her standing in the corner by her recliner. She looked tall—her shoulders not slumped like usual, and her eyes were glowing in the light again.
I didn’t know what to say. “S-sorry,” I spat out, then hurried for the door. Mrs. Holmes stood motionless, watching me go.
Thanks to my little investigation, dinner was nearly over by the time I got back to the kitchen, and there was a mountain of dishes waiting for me by the sink. I shook off the unsettling thoughts plaguing my mind and got to work. It was going to be another late night, and it only got worse when the cook brought over a stack of burnt pans that would take ages of scrubbing to get clean.
It was nearly an hour past the end of my shift by the time I’d finally finished all the dishes. The wait staff had clocked out thirty minutes ago. That was fine. I was used to being the last one in the kitchen. It was the dishwasher’s job to clean the floors at the end of the night after everyone else had gone home. That night, though, I should have been scared, but the weight of being alone hadn’t hit me yet. My mind was too preoccupied with work.
I finished mopping the floor, meaning all that was left was to take the trash out to the dumpster. I gathered up all the bags and took them out into the hallway, then out the back door. I set the bags down and propped the door open with a pen. After 8:00, the building locked down, and I would need a keycard to get back in, something the facility didn’t grant to dishwashers.
I hoisted the garbage bags into the dumpster and turned back toward the building. Before I could even take a step back toward the door, though, I heard it clunk into place. I ran over and tugged on the handle. Locked. I’d have to walk all the way around the building and come in the front entrance, probably scaring the hell out of the secretary at the reception desk, who certainly wouldn’t be expecting anyone to come in at this hour.
Crickets chirped loudly in the fields around the parking lot as I rounded the building. There was no one at the reception desk when I walked in. The secretary was probably out having a cigarette somewhere. I walked through the dining room and back into the kitchen, letting the door swing freely behind me. I heard it brush across the frame once, twice, then suddenly stop. I didn’t think much of it until I heard a knock on the door.
My heart froze, fear tightening an ice-cold grip around my throat. I turned and, through the window, saw a pair of glowing eyes on the other side of the door. Ever so slowly, the door started to push inward as Mrs. Holmes crept inside. I felt like I should have screamed in that moment, but nothing came to me. It felt as though my lungs had completely deflated at the sight of her.
She stepped toward me. I stepped back until I felt my back press against the counter behind me. I wanted to run, but something told me I couldn’t outrun whatever was standing in front of me. My hands reached onto the counter and felt for anything I could use to defend myself. I felt the lukewarm touch of the porcelain plates and wrapped my fingers around the rim of one. I waited as Mrs. Holmes inched closer until, finally, I whipped my arm around and smashed the plate against her head.
She wailed and faltered a few steps, buying me enough time to run deeper into the kitchen, toward the knives. She was on me again before I could reach them. I felt a wet sting on my calf and looked down to see her there, latched on with her teeth sinking deep into my flesh.
I fell onto the concrete floor, my left shoulder taking the brunt of the impact. I tried to crawl away but couldn’t break free of her inhuman weight. With my free leg, I kicked at her head as hard as I could until she released me. Her bloodstained mouth hissed at me as I scrambled to my feet.
I ripped the largest knife I could find out of the block and spun around, ready to drive it into Mrs. Holmes’s chest, but she was gone. My eyes flicked frantically around the room, looking for any sign of her. Then I felt something drip onto my cheek. In the reflection of the knife blade, I could see the drop of blood rolling down my cheek. I looked up, and there she was.
She wasn't suspended from the ceiling; she was floating. As soon as I laid eyes on her, she dropped, falling right on top of me. I managed to raise the knife high enough and felt it pierce her gut as she landed on me. I think that was the only thing that saved me from her teeth sinking into my neck.
Mrs. Holmes reeled from the knife wound. She swung her arm out, and I felt the tremendous weight and strength behind it as it crashed into my side and threw me across the room. Pain shot through my back as I collided with the stainless steel of the dishwasher. I knew I couldn’t afford to waste time licking my wounds. I pulled myself up to my feet just as Mrs. Holmes ripped the knife free of her gut. Coagulated blood seeped out of the gaping wound like thick mud.
Mrs. Holmes hunched over like a predator waiting to pounce. My heart raced, waiting for the moment. Like a bolt of lighting, it came. She leapt across the room at me. My instincts kicked in, and I ducked to the right. I heard a loud metallic crash as Mrs. Holmes’s body slammed into the dishwasher. I looked up and saw her top half lodged in the machine. Without even thinking about it, I yanked the lever, sending the hood down just far enough over Mrs. Holmes’s thin body to activate the machine.
She howled and screeched as the steam inside the dishwasher boiled her skin. I didn’t wait around for the cycle to finish. I saddled the pain in my back and my leg and ran out of the kitchen before she had a chance to escape. I didn’t dare look back.
Sunset Grove closed down last year, three years after I left for good that night. I never found out what became of Mrs. Holmes, but I don’t think she ever left. The article detailing Sunset Grove’s closure cites financial difficulty after a spike in mortality rates, and there had been more than one story about staff members going missing over the years. Ted was the first of them. I would have been the second.
For a long time, Sunset Grove haunted me. I would dream about being back in room 2H, cowering under Mrs. Holmes’s impossibly tall form, her skin blistered and rubbery from the burns I gave her. In time, those dreams faded. It hadn’t seemed possible, but my life started to return to a sense of normalcy.
Reading the article on Sunset Grove brought those memories crashing back. I tried to tell myself that I was safe, but... I don’t think I am anymore. Not since I heard a knock on my door the other night. I wanted so badly to believe it was nothing, just neighborhood kids messing around, but my head has been pounding ever since I heard it, my stomach twisted in knots, my breath short. I can’t sleep through the night anymore. I find myself staring out the window, watching. Sometimes, among the twinkling fireflies at the edge of the woods, I could swear I see a pair of glowing eyes watching me in the dark.
submitted by JacobviBritannia to nosleep [link] [comments]
It’s not that I had a problem with starting work at that age, it’s just that scrubbing pureed vegetables and mashed potatoes off fifty plates a night, with the cook yelling over my shoulder to pick up the pace, wasn’t exactly fulfilling work. The pocket money was nice, though. There’s nothing better than being a teenager with almost nothing but disposable income.
I watched the digital clock tick over from 3:59 to 4:00, begrudgingly typed in my employee ID, and made my way to the kitchen. As always, there was a stack of dishes left over from the shift before mine that would leave me playing catch-up for the rest of the night.
Becca, a thirty-something waitress with pale skin and a slim figure, swept through the doors as I was working through my stack. She was the only member of the wait staff I knew who could manage to keep a sunny disposition no matter how bad the day got.
Her shoulders seemed to relax a little when she saw me. “Hey, Arty, I need glasses.”
“Got it,” I replied.
“Thank you!” she said in a sing-song voice as she picked up a tub of silverware and rushed back out the doors. The wait staff was always in a rush this time of day. They only had about a half-hour to set the tables before some of the early-birds started showing up for dinner.
I loaded a tray with glasses and sent them through the commercial steam washer to my left, pulling the hood down with a heavy metal clunk. Once they were done, Becca came through and took the tray out to the dining room.
Before long, the cook began setting out room service trays. I never understood why it was the dishwasher’s job to deliver room service, but nevertheless, I began loading the trays into my cart. Most room service orders came from the same residents, which meant I’d long since worked out the most efficient way to load the cart. As I was loading, I noticed one of my regulars, room 2H, was missing. It could have been that she just decided to have dinner in the dining room today, but as long as I’d been working at Sunset Grove, I’d never known 2H to have dinner anywhere but her room.
As I walked down the hallway past 2H, I realized why. There on the door was a small laminated sign with a photo of the woman who’d lived in 2H.
Lilith Holmes 1928 - 2014
That was it. Just a name and a pair of dates. Not even a “Rest in Peace.” But it got the point across. I felt a tinge of guilt at the fact that I hadn’t known the woman’s name. I’d been working at Sunset Grove for a year, and I still referred to most of the residents by their room numbers.
This wasn’t the first of these types of signs I’d seen. There had been two or three deaths in the past year, each one memorialized with a cheap laminated sign that would be taken down after a week or two. It may sound callous, but I was never bothered by the deaths. They were simply a fact of life working in a place full of people entering the final phase of their lives. It helped that I didn’t make much effort to get close to the residents. I never wanted this place to bleed into what I considered to be my real life, so whenever I was at Sunset Grove, I was in “work mode.” I would put on a kind face, greet coworkers and residents with a smile, and otherwise speak only when spoken to. It was easier that way.
Room 2H stayed empty for a month. The sign, as they always do, disappeared after a while. I wondered if that meant they’d already cleaned out all of Mrs. Holmes’s belongings or if they were still entombed behind that locked door.
Eventually, the day came that I had a room service tray for room 2H again. It seemed so sudden. I hadn’t heard anything about a new resident moving in. I shrugged it off and loaded the tray onto my cart, thinking it must have happened on one of my days off. I hoped the new tenant wouldn’t be a handful. I may not have known Mrs. Holmes well, but she was always nice and courteous to me when I brought her her food. It’s more than I could say for some of the other residents.
I rode the elevator up to the second floor. Room 2H was my second stop from there. I knocked and pushed open the door into the dimly lit room. The blinds were all drawn, and there was only a single table lamp turned on in the corner across the room. I could see the new tenant sitting in a recliner on the opposite wall. It was a woman, with curled white hair that fell to her hunched shoulders. In the dark, I couldn’t make out her face, but her form was familiar. As I got closer, I realized it was Mrs. Holmes sitting in the chair.
I faltered. “I... have your dinner here for you, ma’am,” I stammered.
“Oh, good,” she said. “Set it on the table here, dear.” Her tone was jovial like always, though it felt strained. As if she were forcing it.
I set the tray down on the end table beside her. As she turned to look at it, her eyes seemed to catch the tiny amount of light in the room and glowed for a split second.
“Thank you,” she chimed.
“You’re welcome,” I said, turning on my heel and heading for the door.
I stopped by the second floor nurse’s station on my way down the hall and found Ted inside. He was a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair, known around the facility for his eccentric taste in scrubs. Today’s were navy blue with a messy pattern of stars. Ted was the only nurse I knew by name, mostly because he gave me no other choice. It was common knowledge at Sunset Grove that if Ted wanted to chat you up, there was nothing you could do to stop it.
“Hey, Ted,” I said, poking my head around the door.
“Arthur!” he called, sitting back in his chair. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I saw Mrs. Holmes is back,” I said. “What happened? Why was she gone?”
“Sorry, bud, I shouldn’t really be gossiping about that.”
“I understand. It’s just... there was that sign on her door a while ago. I thought she died.”
“Oh, that,” Ted laughed. “That was a little misunderstanding. But as you saw, she’s alive and well.”
“Right,” I said. “I should go. I’ve still got a cart full of meals to deliver.”
“Best not keep ‘em waiting!” Ted joked as I left the nurse’s station.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Mrs. Holmes for the remainder of my shift that night. How could the nurses make such a drastic mistake, confusing a resident for dead? And where exactly had Mrs. Holmes been for the past month? At the hospital? With family? The whole thing irked me more than it probably should have. I didn’t like thinking about this place during my time off, but thoughts of Mrs. Holmes stuck with me all week.
I delivered room service to her the rest of the week. Each time I entered 2H, the blinds were drawn, the room kept dark. As always, I set her tray down on the end table next to the recliner, she thanked me, and I moved on to the next room.
The next stop on my route was 2K, Ms. Ganz, whose name I only knew because she had a reputation around the building for being very outwardly spoken. There was rarely a week that went by where I wasn’t overhearing the nurses laughing about something Ms. Ganz had said that day.
Most days, Ms. Ganz left her door open. I knocked anyway and passed through the open frame. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, rubbing her temples before she looked up and saw me.
“Set it down right there,” she instructed, pointing to the rolling TV stand where she took her dinner every day.
I did as she said and set the food down on the stand, forcing a smile for good measure. She scooted off the bed and hobbled over to the chair to sit down. I pushed the stand closer to her and lowered it down so she could reach. She examined the tray, then picked up the pudding cup and handed it to me.
“You take that,” she said. “I don’t need it.”
“That’s alright,” I protested. “I don’t need it either.”
Ms. Ganz pawning her desserts off on me was beginning to become a habit. As I tried to set the pudding cup back on the tray, she pushed it back toward me. It clearly wasn’t a fight I was going to win, so I relented and accepted the pudding.
Ms. Ganz got to work preparing her coffee, which she had with every meal. I always loaded her tray with three creams and three sugars, but I’d learned in time to wait until she finished mixing before I left because, more often than not, she’d ask for more.
“Is this decaf?” she asked.
“That’s right,” I said.
She grumbled. “I need caffeine. People keeping me up all night. Knocking on my door.”
“Knocking on your door?”
“Middle of the night,” Ms. Ganz exclaimed. “They come, they knock, I open the door, and they’re gone. My family doesn’t pay $2000 a month for me to get pranked all night long.”
“Have you talked to the nurses about it?” I asked.
She snorted. “They’re probably the ones doing it.” Ms. Ganz winced and reached for her forehead. “Now, I’ve had this headache all day thanks to them.”
“Sorry about that. I hope you feel better,” I said as I made my way out of the room.
It became apparent very quickly Ms. Ganz wasn’t the only resident dealing with these problems. I overheard the nurses talking about multiple residents on the second floor complaining about someone knocking on their door at night. It only got worse throughout the week, with even more residents complaining. There were more complaints of headaches, too. Some residents even started exhibiting symptoms of fever.
When I came to serve Ms. Ganz her dinner a week later, her door was shut. I knocked and turned the handle. It wasn’t locked, so I went inside. Ms. Ganz was lying in bed, a fresh sheen of sweat shimmering in the light across her forehead. She hadn’t even touched her lunch. I quietly swapped the trays, trying not to disturb her and tip-toed out of the room, stopping by the nurses’ station before I got back to work. Ted was there again, wearing a loud, floral-patterned set of scrubs this time.
“Hey, Ted, is Ms. Ganz alright?” I asked.
“She’s just a little under the weather,” he said. “She’s not the only one. There’s some kind of bug going around.”
Ted scooted his chair across the room and pulled something out of a box. He tossed me a medical mask.
“You should probably wear one of these while you’re goin’ into rooms,” he said.
I nodded and put the mask on, leaving Ted to his work. There were four more residents laid up in bed on the second floor. Weirdly, no one on the first or third floor seemed to be affected.
Things only seemed to get worse as the days went on. More and more residents were laid up with fevers. Soon enough, no one on the second floor was healthy enough to go to the dining room, which meant my room service runs were getting longer by the day. Now that I had to deliver trays to every room on the second floor, there was no way I could get it done on my own, but even with Becca helping me with runs, I was still clocking out of work an hour late most nights.
As we rolled the cart up to room 2H, Becca hesitated.
“Do you mind getting this one?” she asked.
I raised an eyebrow. “Sure.”
I had no problem bringing Mrs. Holmes her food. What caught me off guard was the way Becca seemed to give the room a wide berth as we passed and the trepidation in her voice as she spoke.
“Thanks, Arty,” Becca said. “Something about her just creeps me out. Don’t you feel that?”
“It’s a little weird how she sits in the dark all the time,” I admitted, “but I wouldn’t call it creepy.”
“So brave,” Becca teased. “I’ll bring Ms. Ganz her tray and meet you down the hall.”
“Sounds good.”
I knocked on the door and went into 2H. As expected, Mrs. Holmes was seated in her recliner with the blinds drawn and the single lamp on in the corner. Sometimes I wondered if she ever even moved from that spot.
“How are you feeling, Mrs. Holmes?” I asked through the medical mask I was now required to wear at all times while on the second floor.
“Are you a nurse now?” She asked. Her tone seemed intended to be joking, but it came across more accusatory.
“No, it’s just that we can’t seem to get rid of this bug going around. I was just curious if you were still feeling alright.”
“I’m fine,” she said flatly.
Mrs. Holmes was the only resident on the second floor who wasn’t sick. The bug hadn’t spread to any of the staff members either. A thought occurred to me.
“Have you heard anyone knocking on your door at night?” I asked.
Mrs. Holmes’s eyes shot to mine, momentarily glowing in the light as they had once before. She stared at me with wide eyes that seemed to be studying me.
Finally, her tight lips peeled apart and she simply said, “I have not.”
Suddenly, I understood why Becca hadn’t wanted to come in here. I could feel the goose flesh spreading across my arm and a shiver run down my spine. I didn’t want to linger here any longer than I had to.
“Have a good night,” I said, mimicking my usual tone, before hustling out of the room.
I grabbed the cart and pushed it quickly down the hall toward Ms. Ganz’s room where I would find Becca, but as I rounded the corner, I saw a crowd of nurses surrounding the door. Becca was standing off to the side, a distraught look on her face.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I went in to give her her food,” Becca choked out. “Her eyes were open, so I thought she was awake. So, I asked her if she had enough cream and sugar for her coffee, but she didn’t respond.”
“Oh no,” I realized.
“That’s never happened to me before,” Becca said. “I’ve never seen one of them after... after they died. Sorry, Arty, I need to take five. Do you think you can finish this yourself today?”
“That’s fine. I’ve got it.”
Becca laid her hand on my shoulder as she walked away, her other hand combing through her hair.
Becca didn’t come in the next day. With the wait staff being short handed, I had to do the room service deliveries myself. I hesitated before going into 2H, but when I reached for the handle, I was relieved to find that it was locked. Some of the nurses must have been inside, so I left the tray by the door and went on my way.
As I passed by Ms. Ganz’s room, I saw the sign.
Mallory Ganz 1939 - 2014
She was about ten years younger in the photo, smiling next to her daughter. I felt a tug inside my gut and suddenly realized I wanted to know what was happening. Where was this sickness coming from? Why wasn’t it affecting the residents on the first or third floors or the staff? And why was Mrs. Holmes the only resident on the second floor who was still healthy?
I finished delivering trays and stashed the cart in the corner. I figured I had at least ten more minutes before my boss would start wondering where I was, so I found Ted in the nurse’s station.
“Hey, Ted, are you busy?” I asked.
“Never not busy, Arthur,” he grinned. “What can I do for you?”
“You’ve heard the residents complaining about someone knocking on their doors at night, right? Do you have any idea what that might be about?”
He sighed. “Yeah, I’ve heard all about it. Best I can figure, it’s someone screwin’ around on the night shift.”
“Well, there are cameras, right? Couldn’t we find out who’s doing it?”
Ted’s brow furled. “Why are you so interested?”
“I don’t know,” I lied. “I guess it’s just that, whoever it was, they were bothering Ms. Ganz. I thought maybe we could find them and get them to stop to, like, honor her in a way.”
Ted pushed an office chair toward me with his foot. “Sit down a minute. I’ll pull up the footage.”
“Thank you.”
I sat down and watched Ted scrub through last night’s security footage. It was strange seeing the hallway so empty. During the daytime hours, there were constantly nurses or housekeepers coming up and down the halls, but at night, they were dead.
Suddenly, there was a flash of movement on the screen. Ted let go of the mouse and let the footage play out in real-time. I felt my chest tighten as I recognized the figure on the screen. Mrs. Holmes. I watched her walk down the hall, moving with an unnatural weightlessness for her age. She stopped in front of Ms. Ganz’s room and knocked on the door. Then, all of a sudden, she just faded away.
I leaned in closer to the screen. Ted sat upright in his chair.
“Was that a glitch?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “The timecode looks normal, but it must’ve been. Either way, I guess we know who’s been causin’ trouble at night. I’ll have a word with Mrs. Holmes.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I blurted out.
Ted looked at me quizzically. I didn’t know how to explain it, but I knew something was off about Mrs. Holmes. There was no telling what would happen if someone confronted her, but how was I supposed to convince Ted of that?
“Sorry,” I said. “Thanks for the help, Ted.”
I left the nurse’s station without saying another word. I could only hope that my initial warning would be enough to make Ted hesitate until I could figure out what to do next.
My heart dropped when I couldn’t find Ted the next day. He was always there. Every single weekday, he was there.
None of the other nurses had seen him either. Apparently, he hadn’t called out sick or anything. As far as anyone knew, he simply hadn’t shown up for work. But I knew better. I knew he’d gone and talked to Mrs. Holmes, and she’d done something to him. Could he still be there, inside room 2H? Was he still alive? Had he mentioned me?
I worked the first hour of my shift constantly looking over my shoulder. By 5:00, the cook started lining up room service trays. I was on my own again. Apparently, Becca was taking some time off after what she’d been through. I couldn’t blame her, but I found myself desperately wishing I didn’t have to be alone.
My heart thumped with dread every step I took toward room 2H. I prayed the door would be locked again, but no such luck. I pushed the door open slowly and let the light from the hall flood into the dim room. Mrs. Holmes was in her recliner, but as I got closer, I noticed her eyes were shut. She was asleep.
I set the tray down quietly and made for the door, but before I left, I felt curiosity tug me back. I wanted to know what happened to Ted. If there was any trace of him in the room, this might be my only chance to find it.
I inched heel-toe back through the entryway and into the bedroom. I found an antique lamp on the nightstand and flipped it on, bathing the room in a hazy yellow light. The room was pristine, not even a crease in the bedding. I didn’t know what I was looking for. Blood? A body? Just anything that would confirm the insane thoughts that were running through my mind.
I moved to the bathroom, but, like the bedroom, it was spotless. I checked every inch of it, even getting down on my hands and knees to inspect the bath mat for blood stains. I was starting to feel like a lunatic. Maybe everything that was happening was exactly what it seemed, and the rest of it was all just in my head.
Feeling a little ridiculous, I stepped out of the bathroom, gently closing the door behind me.
“What were you doing in there?” Mrs. Holmes’s voice was sharp and sent a jolt of fear through my body.
I turned and saw her standing in the corner by her recliner. She looked tall—her shoulders not slumped like usual, and her eyes were glowing in the light again.
I didn’t know what to say. “S-sorry,” I spat out, then hurried for the door. Mrs. Holmes stood motionless, watching me go.
Thanks to my little investigation, dinner was nearly over by the time I got back to the kitchen, and there was a mountain of dishes waiting for me by the sink. I shook off the unsettling thoughts plaguing my mind and got to work. It was going to be another late night, and it only got worse when the cook brought over a stack of burnt pans that would take ages of scrubbing to get clean.
It was nearly an hour past the end of my shift by the time I’d finally finished all the dishes. The wait staff had clocked out thirty minutes ago. That was fine. I was used to being the last one in the kitchen. It was the dishwasher’s job to clean the floors at the end of the night after everyone else had gone home. That night, though, I should have been scared, but the weight of being alone hadn’t hit me yet. My mind was too preoccupied with work.
I finished mopping the floor, meaning all that was left was to take the trash out to the dumpster. I gathered up all the bags and took them out into the hallway, then out the back door. I set the bags down and propped the door open with a pen. After 8:00, the building locked down, and I would need a keycard to get back in, something the facility didn’t grant to dishwashers.
I hoisted the garbage bags into the dumpster and turned back toward the building. Before I could even take a step back toward the door, though, I heard it clunk into place. I ran over and tugged on the handle. Locked. I’d have to walk all the way around the building and come in the front entrance, probably scaring the hell out of the secretary at the reception desk, who certainly wouldn’t be expecting anyone to come in at this hour.
Crickets chirped loudly in the fields around the parking lot as I rounded the building. There was no one at the reception desk when I walked in. The secretary was probably out having a cigarette somewhere. I walked through the dining room and back into the kitchen, letting the door swing freely behind me. I heard it brush across the frame once, twice, then suddenly stop. I didn’t think much of it until I heard a knock on the door.
My heart froze, fear tightening an ice-cold grip around my throat. I turned and, through the window, saw a pair of glowing eyes on the other side of the door. Ever so slowly, the door started to push inward as Mrs. Holmes crept inside. I felt like I should have screamed in that moment, but nothing came to me. It felt as though my lungs had completely deflated at the sight of her.
She stepped toward me. I stepped back until I felt my back press against the counter behind me. I wanted to run, but something told me I couldn’t outrun whatever was standing in front of me. My hands reached onto the counter and felt for anything I could use to defend myself. I felt the lukewarm touch of the porcelain plates and wrapped my fingers around the rim of one. I waited as Mrs. Holmes inched closer until, finally, I whipped my arm around and smashed the plate against her head.
She wailed and faltered a few steps, buying me enough time to run deeper into the kitchen, toward the knives. She was on me again before I could reach them. I felt a wet sting on my calf and looked down to see her there, latched on with her teeth sinking deep into my flesh.
I fell onto the concrete floor, my left shoulder taking the brunt of the impact. I tried to crawl away but couldn’t break free of her inhuman weight. With my free leg, I kicked at her head as hard as I could until she released me. Her bloodstained mouth hissed at me as I scrambled to my feet.
I ripped the largest knife I could find out of the block and spun around, ready to drive it into Mrs. Holmes’s chest, but she was gone. My eyes flicked frantically around the room, looking for any sign of her. Then I felt something drip onto my cheek. In the reflection of the knife blade, I could see the drop of blood rolling down my cheek. I looked up, and there she was.
She wasn't suspended from the ceiling; she was floating. As soon as I laid eyes on her, she dropped, falling right on top of me. I managed to raise the knife high enough and felt it pierce her gut as she landed on me. I think that was the only thing that saved me from her teeth sinking into my neck.
Mrs. Holmes reeled from the knife wound. She swung her arm out, and I felt the tremendous weight and strength behind it as it crashed into my side and threw me across the room. Pain shot through my back as I collided with the stainless steel of the dishwasher. I knew I couldn’t afford to waste time licking my wounds. I pulled myself up to my feet just as Mrs. Holmes ripped the knife free of her gut. Coagulated blood seeped out of the gaping wound like thick mud.
Mrs. Holmes hunched over like a predator waiting to pounce. My heart raced, waiting for the moment. Like a bolt of lighting, it came. She leapt across the room at me. My instincts kicked in, and I ducked to the right. I heard a loud metallic crash as Mrs. Holmes’s body slammed into the dishwasher. I looked up and saw her top half lodged in the machine. Without even thinking about it, I yanked the lever, sending the hood down just far enough over Mrs. Holmes’s thin body to activate the machine.
She howled and screeched as the steam inside the dishwasher boiled her skin. I didn’t wait around for the cycle to finish. I saddled the pain in my back and my leg and ran out of the kitchen before she had a chance to escape. I didn’t dare look back.
Sunset Grove closed down last year, three years after I left for good that night. I never found out what became of Mrs. Holmes, but I don’t think she ever left. The article detailing Sunset Grove’s closure cites financial difficulty after a spike in mortality rates, and there had been more than one story about staff members going missing over the years. Ted was the first of them. I would have been the second.
For a long time, Sunset Grove haunted me. I would dream about being back in room 2H, cowering under Mrs. Holmes’s impossibly tall form, her skin blistered and rubbery from the burns I gave her. In time, those dreams faded. It hadn’t seemed possible, but my life started to return to a sense of normalcy.
Reading the article on Sunset Grove brought those memories crashing back. I tried to tell myself that I was safe, but... I don’t think I am anymore. Not since I heard a knock on my door the other night. I wanted so badly to believe it was nothing, just neighborhood kids messing around, but my head has been pounding ever since I heard it, my stomach twisted in knots, my breath short. I can’t sleep through the night anymore. I find myself staring out the window, watching. Sometimes, among the twinkling fireflies at the edge of the woods, I could swear I see a pair of glowing eyes watching me in the dark.
2023.06.01 20:19 Jestersage Macaroni Soup and Conservative Chinese Christian
One of the questions my Indigenous Friends like to ask is: Why do so many Chinese people like to go to church, especially conservative churches? Now back when I was a churchgoer, I will explain various concept in Christian terms, pulling it from Christian apologetics, but of course they didn't accept it.
Now that I stay out of church, I think I found a good explaination: the Hong Kong Style Macaroni Soup. While technically fusion, if you are forced to define it in binary term as either Chinese or Western, would you consider it Chinese food or Western food?
For me, I will define it as Chinese, but utilize western ingredient - namely due to the unami flavor profile. Traditional noodles replaced with Macaroni; various meats and veggies replaced with the spam and mixed veggie. But the unami flavor is still vary Chinese. Similar Chinese-flavor-using-western ingredients is common; for example: "Stir-fried Black Pepper beef and spaghetti" is another common tea restraurant flavor (tend to have more green bell peppers, btw). If I look beyond Hong Kong, I can see Korean's Budae Jjigae is similar in concept; still very Korean (though granted, they add their chilli paste and Kimchi)
Obviously if one dig deep in the actual words of Confucian Canons and the Bible, one will notice various difference; some even has opposite thinking. However, if you compare between what is actually preached from the pulprit to Confucian Canons - especially if one utilize "neo-confucian", which emphasize hierarchy so much that "If a servant do not suicide when his lord ask for it he has no loyality", then what is the difference? In day to day life, where the deity is merely a justification to how we act toward others, isn't what acted out more important?
I cannot help to think that, just as the cooks in Hong Kong utilized western ingredients to compose a Chinese dish, the various conservative Chinese Christians are merely using a western religion to retain as much Chinese philosophy - especially in day to day life.
submitted by Jestersage to DeepThoughts [link] [comments]
Now that I stay out of church, I think I found a good explaination: the Hong Kong Style Macaroni Soup. While technically fusion, if you are forced to define it in binary term as either Chinese or Western, would you consider it Chinese food or Western food?
For me, I will define it as Chinese, but utilize western ingredient - namely due to the unami flavor profile. Traditional noodles replaced with Macaroni; various meats and veggies replaced with the spam and mixed veggie. But the unami flavor is still vary Chinese. Similar Chinese-flavor-using-western ingredients is common; for example: "Stir-fried Black Pepper beef and spaghetti" is another common tea restraurant flavor (tend to have more green bell peppers, btw). If I look beyond Hong Kong, I can see Korean's Budae Jjigae is similar in concept; still very Korean (though granted, they add their chilli paste and Kimchi)
Obviously if one dig deep in the actual words of Confucian Canons and the Bible, one will notice various difference; some even has opposite thinking. However, if you compare between what is actually preached from the pulprit to Confucian Canons - especially if one utilize "neo-confucian", which emphasize hierarchy so much that "If a servant do not suicide when his lord ask for it he has no loyality", then what is the difference? In day to day life, where the deity is merely a justification to how we act toward others, isn't what acted out more important?
I cannot help to think that, just as the cooks in Hong Kong utilized western ingredients to compose a Chinese dish, the various conservative Chinese Christians are merely using a western religion to retain as much Chinese philosophy - especially in day to day life.
2023.06.01 20:18 CoqEnthusiast How to Expedite Passport Within 3-4 Weeks?
The bureaucracy of applying for a new passport has officially driven me insane.
I received a passport when I was 15. I know I need a new adult passport, not a renewal. I need a new passport before July 1st (as of posting this, the date is June 1st). There aren't many appointments for passport application approval available in the area but my tickets for the trip have already been purchased.
I understand I can wait until 2 weeks before we leave to go in person to apply for the passport. I also understand that I can have the passport shipping expedited once I have submitted the application through a service that would run upwards of $500-700. I understand all this can be done through federal establishments like libraries and post offices, but none near me have appointments and I want to make sure I've exhausted my options before driving several hours to other cities to do this.
Am I missing something? A potential government service I could be using? Or is everything genuinely this convoluted.
For context: I live within a 5 hour drive of Miami, Tampa, and Orlando International Airports, all of which have passport centers to my understanding.
submitted by CoqEnthusiast to howto [link] [comments]
I received a passport when I was 15. I know I need a new adult passport, not a renewal. I need a new passport before July 1st (as of posting this, the date is June 1st). There aren't many appointments for passport application approval available in the area but my tickets for the trip have already been purchased.
I understand I can wait until 2 weeks before we leave to go in person to apply for the passport. I also understand that I can have the passport shipping expedited once I have submitted the application through a service that would run upwards of $500-700. I understand all this can be done through federal establishments like libraries and post offices, but none near me have appointments and I want to make sure I've exhausted my options before driving several hours to other cities to do this.
Am I missing something? A potential government service I could be using? Or is everything genuinely this convoluted.
For context: I live within a 5 hour drive of Miami, Tampa, and Orlando International Airports, all of which have passport centers to my understanding.
2023.06.01 20:17 cerbaby Am I wrong for being upset over my Girlfriend being unavilable?
Me(19F) and my girlfriend(19f) have been together for nearly 2 years but we're childhood best friends. We've had many ups and down in our relationship, but usually persevere over promises to get better for one another. Lately, I've agreed to act as her manager as she is an aspiring idol. It has all been fine and I don't mind the work it takes, even on top of my own group that I'm a part of. But lately she has been super standoffish and distant, treating me as if I'm not there. I wake up around 8-9am everyday but she doesn't get up or message me until about 2-4pm. And by then, half of my day is already done or I'm going into work. It's starting to really bother me as I'm someone who tends to enjoy company and talking to those I love. The both of us have BPD and are codependent on each other which is never am issue until she randomly withdraws and treats me like I mean nothing, despite everything I do. I voiced my concerns about her behavior last night and she explained that she's just been stressed which I completely understand; I just couldn't tell if I did something wrong or not. However, she said "there's things I have to say but I'll say them wrong right now". And that scares me and I'm freaking out. She, self-admitally, isn't very rational or logical at all when it comes to conflicts or issues. And it has led to major arguments between us where I've felt like I've had to drop how I feel and force myself to defend against the nonsense she would send my way. It has always been like this and she knows it upsets me. Our relationship nearly ended a month ago but since then we've been doing better and as weird as it sounds, my recent experience with being raped has drawn her closer to me. It's weird, maybe it's a guilt thing. But I cannot wrap my head around what it is she has to say to me, as it usually means I'm doing something she doesn't like. The only recent thing I can think of is when we were waiting for the bus and a message popped up from this "gay guy" she met on omegle where he said "hey my sexy little baby" and she swiped it away. Obviously, I demanded to see her messages with him and while she never spoke like that in return, she allowed him to continue. I asked her to block him and she did. I kinda shut down and went nonverbal, me being autistic and that's how I regulate myself and calm down. I later apologized for shutting down as I felt really guilty for assuming she was cheating. But even in this situation, I was justified in that reaction. I'm just really really struggling. I can't really ever talk to her about how I feel without her blowing it out of proportion and telling her friends how I'm in the wrong or abusive or manipulative, WHEN I GENUINELY WHOLEHEARTEDLY DID NOTHING WRONG.
submitted by cerbaby to amiwrong [link] [comments]
2023.06.01 20:17 Prettypearls88 Need a real sd no fees no fake checks or nothing
 | Hi looking for real sd near me area sf california please no back and forth txts and asking for pics for no help im tired wasting my time and not finding someone real who will help weekly submitted by Prettypearls88 to SugarBabyGroups [link] [comments] |
2023.06.01 20:17 lee714 Past Lives
Is anyone else not able to see the show times for Past Lives? I'm usually able to order tickets a few days or the week of the movies release date. But I don't see any local theaters near me with any showtimes.
I'm assuming its not showing around me. Or is there an issue going on?
submitted by lee714 to AMCsAList [link] [comments]
I'm assuming its not showing around me. Or is there an issue going on?
2023.06.01 20:16 Okish-Breadfruit Options for toxic coworkes
Hei all,
I am seeking advices on handling toxic behavior oh coworkes.
In my Position, teamleader ans project Manager, i handle around 8 people in a department of nearly 35.
There is another coworkes, also teamlead, who is constantly talking BS about me, when around other people. E.g. That i am managing my Team poorly, Not taking actions or other Things.
I got the Information from 3rd parties, like my teammembers. Also the other teamlead is Setting up afterwork events and other stuff, where I and other colleagues are activly excluded.
Now to my question on how to handle this situation. I see the only feasable Option to me is quitting. Our Boss also got notified on the BS that was talked about. He only stated, its Not okay to do so and then moved on. He also takes part in all the afterwork events so I do not expect any action from him, If i would talk to him about this issue.
Is there any other way or action I could take?
submitted by Okish-Breadfruit to careeradvice [link] [comments]
I am seeking advices on handling toxic behavior oh coworkes.
In my Position, teamleader ans project Manager, i handle around 8 people in a department of nearly 35.
There is another coworkes, also teamlead, who is constantly talking BS about me, when around other people. E.g. That i am managing my Team poorly, Not taking actions or other Things.
I got the Information from 3rd parties, like my teammembers. Also the other teamlead is Setting up afterwork events and other stuff, where I and other colleagues are activly excluded.
Now to my question on how to handle this situation. I see the only feasable Option to me is quitting. Our Boss also got notified on the BS that was talked about. He only stated, its Not okay to do so and then moved on. He also takes part in all the afterwork events so I do not expect any action from him, If i would talk to him about this issue.
Is there any other way or action I could take?
2023.06.01 20:14 mobilityshop_ Roma Reno Elite Power Chair - Buy Online
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submitted by mobilityshop_ to u/mobilityshop_ [link] [comments]
https://www.mobilityshop.co.uk
#themobilityshop #themobilityshopforall #themobilityshop4all #mobilityshop #mobilityshopforall #mobilityshop4all #mobilityaids #mobilityaidsforall #mobilityaids4all #livingaids #bedroomaids #bathroomaids #kitchenaids #wheelchairs #transitwheelchair #selfpropelledwheelchair #bariatricwheelchair #childrenswheelchair #transportwheelchair #recliningwheelchair #electricwheelchair #powerchair #wheelchairaccessories #powerpack #incontinence
2023.06.01 20:14 HelmsleyHunterHearst First time dog owner adopted a half lab half pitbull
Hey everyone,
I’ve been lurking in this sub a long time. I’ve always loved dogs and have been around other peoples dogs my whole life. One month ago, I was told that somebody had a half lab half pitbull puppy that was only 10 months old, that they were about to give to the shelter or sell online. Long story short I ended up getting this guy for free from them. Took him to the vet, got his vaccines updated, and I’m getting him neutered and insured too.
In the beginning, he was a wild boy. His old owners would keep him tied up in the backyard, so he would jump on everyone and go wild when he was near people. In just three weeks of being with us, he knows not to jump on my elderly uncle or my little niece. He only jumps on me or my dad.
We taught him how to sit, stay, and how to act on walks. However, he is treat/toy motivated and often it takes repetitive commands for him to listen. When we’re on a walk, he won’t listen at all.
He also barks a lot when he’s in the backyard. If he sees us through a window or something he will bark for up to twenty minutes.
This is the first dog I’ve ever owned and I love him and I’m willing to do anything for him. I want him to be well behaved enough to listen to my mother and and stuff but it seems he only listens to me.
He also tried to run away twice
At 11 months old, can you give me tips and advice on how to go about training him properly? If anyone has any questions for me I can answer those as well
Thank you
submitted by HelmsleyHunterHearst to puppy101 [link] [comments]
I’ve been lurking in this sub a long time. I’ve always loved dogs and have been around other peoples dogs my whole life. One month ago, I was told that somebody had a half lab half pitbull puppy that was only 10 months old, that they were about to give to the shelter or sell online. Long story short I ended up getting this guy for free from them. Took him to the vet, got his vaccines updated, and I’m getting him neutered and insured too.
In the beginning, he was a wild boy. His old owners would keep him tied up in the backyard, so he would jump on everyone and go wild when he was near people. In just three weeks of being with us, he knows not to jump on my elderly uncle or my little niece. He only jumps on me or my dad.
We taught him how to sit, stay, and how to act on walks. However, he is treat/toy motivated and often it takes repetitive commands for him to listen. When we’re on a walk, he won’t listen at all.
He also barks a lot when he’s in the backyard. If he sees us through a window or something he will bark for up to twenty minutes.
This is the first dog I’ve ever owned and I love him and I’m willing to do anything for him. I want him to be well behaved enough to listen to my mother and and stuff but it seems he only listens to me.
He also tried to run away twice
At 11 months old, can you give me tips and advice on how to go about training him properly? If anyone has any questions for me I can answer those as well
Thank you
2023.06.01 20:14 nccarcoup Replace/fix coupler
 | I have a 1971 airstream that needs parts to the couple. No trailer shop near me knows or has anything like this. I don't want to weld on a new one as the current one has the vin. submitted by nccarcoup to airstream [link] [comments] |
2023.06.01 20:13 Few-Show4596 Need to make £1K ASAP
I'm a 19 year old male who lives in the UK. I'm planning to go back to my native country for the summer holidays and spent the past few years saving up to build a holiday home. I'm nearly done with it but due to miscommunication the builders are starting working on the final aspects a month earlier than planned which has me in a bit of a pickle. Anything would be helpful
submitted by Few-Show4596 to MakeMoney [link] [comments]
2023.06.01 20:12 Deep-Sea-9197 Question about administration
Hi! So I’m not a teacher, but I’m an aide in a special ed classroom in upstate NY. Not entirely sure if this is the best place to ask, but here goes anyway. Our class is a 12:1:1 class, there’s a teacher, a TA, and I’m in there for support for most of the day. My coworkers in the classroom and myself have all received an email from administration saying they want to meet with everyone who’s used a significant amount of sick/personal days. I previously spoke to this particular member of the administration after she observed me and gave me a low score for the “dependability” part of the rubric, pointing out that I don’t take time off unless I really need to, I flat out told her that I took a significant amount of days because I suffered a miscarriage in addition to being sick more than once (it’s impossible not to get sick when working with special needs kids!) She was very apologetic and assured me that everyone was scored on their attendance, and she bumped my score up for that portion. I guess all that detail wasn’t necessary for you to know, but my question is, are they allowed to ask people why they took PTO days that are part of our benefits package? Seems unprofessional to say the least. If they didn’t want us using the days they give us, then they shouldn’t have given them to us. They’re there for us if we need them, and myself and my coworkers definitely needed them, otherwise we wouldn’t have taken them. I know I’m ranting and I appreciate anyone who reads this whole thing, I just feel like I don’t get paid nearly enough to deal with this crap!! 😂
submitted by Deep-Sea-9197 to Teachers [link] [comments]