My hands are shaking as I write this, I have to document my story incase something happens to me in the next few days. I'm not sure where to begin but I suppose here is better than anywhere.
I've always had this weird feeling, this sensation inside of me that I was older than I actually was. By the time I was twelve, my soul felt as though it was forty. By the time I reached twenty, I felt like an old woman. I would watch people around my age acting foolish, and I always thought, "What a bunch of children." So it was no surprise to anyone that when I turned twenty-one, I left my hometown and college and decided to spend the summer alone by renting an old farmhouse in an insignificant town on the edge of an even more insignificant border.
When I told my mother, she had a veritable fit, unable to find the words. She spluttered and raged around me for days before I finally left early one morning to avoid her guilt and frustration with my choices. I was not sure why I craved solitude at such a young age, why I found solace in being alone and removed from society.
In high school, I had changed unexpectedly, cutting my long blonde hair short and dying it black, getting piercings that my mother loathed and claimed no young lady should have. You see, my mother was raised proper, as she called it. Good family, good husband, and finally a good life. She despised her perfect life being squashed by my alternative looks and feelings of the same world. She just didn't understand me or the world as it changed around her. I felt like I was just a trophy to her and my father, her perfect angel who had been tainted by my own demented thoughts.
I never told my parents where I was staying, one last rebellious mission before leaving for a few months, and it took me only a few hours to arrive at the farmhouse where I would be staying for the next few months. The land around the farm was dead or dying, old crops rose out of the dry dusty earth and had turned black and forgotten, as if this land was the example of dreams long forgotten and empty. A single dreary lane connected this desolate farmhouse to the rest of the world. On the outside, it was drab and looked as though it would fall apart. It had two stories but still seemed cramped and small, as if it were a single floor tied to the ground.
Across from the house, bordering the tall weeds that had reclaimed much of the farmland, stood a maudlin-looking faded red barn, one door propped open in a dejected manner revealing naught to me but shadows, dust, and a little mystery.
Next to the barn, staked into the ground on an old-looking cross, was a ragged scarecrow. It had drab brown clothing, but its face was oddly realistic, like it was watching me with a disapproving manner. Straw poked through its joints at odd angles like they were trying to break free from their confines. The scarecrow obviously didn't do its job as it was covered in no less than three crows.
I parked my car next to the barn and stepped out into the dusty yard before the farmhouse that I would make my home for the next few months. I checked under the front mat for the key and put it in the lock.
With a satisfying click, the door fell inward into the farmhouse. Surprisingly, the inside of the farmhouse was modern, clean, and looked quite inviting. I could smell the fresh paint on the walls, and everything was so white. The realtor had told me she would stop by tomorrow to collect the rent, and she had tried to chat my ear off on the phone about all the renovations she and her son were doing on the place.
I sighed with contentment and tossed my bags beside the door. I dug around in my bag and removed my camera, my father's old film shooter as he called it. I had taken up the hobby years ago for what I called capturing the oddity in the world.
I explored the small house a little more; the ground floor consisted of a single room and small bathroom with a shower. The bedroom was upstairs and was the only room, the stairs connected directly to the white and pink monstrosity that was the master bedroom. The pillows had laces on them and almost made me gag from the cuteness. There was even cute white lace curtains on the window with little flowers stitched onto them.
Out of the only window of the room, I could see the barn and the scarecrow. I aimed my camera at the pair and snapped a photo. From this angle, the scarecrow appeared to be staring straight at me. It stood next to the left side of the barn in a dejected manner like a chastised child.
A shudder involuntarily ran through me at the sight, but I moved on back downstairs. It was getting close to dinner time now, and I had brought some food with me.
After a few minutes, I had my dinner on the stove cooking and the crickets chirping outside the open window. As I sat down to eat next to the window, I felt at peace for one of the first times in years. The solitude of this old farm was exactly what I needed. The window supplied a nice breeze that wafted through the place, it smelled of grass and warm summer nights, made me feel at peace. The simple dish of spaghetti with tomato sauce and a glass of wine was all that I needed right here, right now in this moment.
That night I climbed into the frilly laced bed and sunk into the claustrophobic mattress. I felt like Goldilocks in the mama bear's bed as it was altogether too soft. From my perfumed bed, I had a good view out the window. I had left the porch light on, and it cast an eerie glow across the yard. The barn loomed ominously, stalwart against the light of the porch, like it was protecting the shadows from the battering ram of light. The somber scarecrow leaned against the left side of the barn.
With a small jump, I thought I saw its arm move slightly. I peered through my camera using the zoom to get a better view of the scarecrow. It was completely still in the night, and I laughed quietly to myself at my silliness. I had always enjoyed horror movies, but there was no chance I was living in one. I settled back into bed and put my camera down. Within a few minutes, I fell into sleep's warm embrace.
What felt like only a few minutes later, I sat up in bed. It was still dark out, I could hear crickets chirping through the open window, and I strained my ears for a moment.
I thought something had woken me up. I felt a cold shiver run down my spine as a cold breeze wafted in through the window. I pulled the frilly blanket up around myself when I heard it. A thud sounded below me, shaking the whole world into silence. The crickets stopped chirping, and my heart felt like it had stopped beating. Someone was in the house. I hadn't locked the door or closed the kitchen window, and now someone was downstairs. A second thud sounded like a boot on the staircase. Then another and another as something was slowly moving up the stairs towards the room.
I don't know why I did it, but something came over me. I wasn't big or especially brave, but my normal cowardice in social situations changed instantly. With a dash, I tore across the room, flicking on the lights, ready to face my attacker, to defend myself against male or female. I would fight, and I would win.
But as the lights turned on, ready to strike with my foot, nothing was there. The staircase was empty, and upon further inspection, the entire house was empty. The kitchen window was open, and I shut and locked it securely before checking the door. Nothing. I sat down on the couch, my heart pounding out of my chest, as I tried to make sense of what had just happened.
"I must have still been half-asleep," I said aloud to the room in a thinly veiled attempt to calm my nerves. It failed horribly, but I went with it. What else could you do in a situation like that?
After locking up the house, I went back up to that frilly four-poster bed in the bedroom and stared out the window. Nothing was in the yard except my car, the barn, and the same old sad-looking scarecrow staring across the yard.
Day 2
The next morning, I woke up to the soft light filtering through the lace curtains. Despite the strange events of the previous night, I felt strangely refreshed, as if the morning sun had chased away the shadows that lingered in my mind.
I descended the stairs, the wooden steps creaking softly under my weight, and headed to the kitchen. As I brewed a pot of coffee, my mind wandered back to the events of last night. Was it just a figment of my imagination, or was there really someone in the house?
Shaking off the unease, I decided to explore the farmhouse in the daylight. I wandered through the room, admiring the modern renovations that clashed with the rustic exterior. The farmhouse had a charm to it, despite its eerie surroundings.
As I made my way outside, the cool morning air greeted me, and I took a deep breath, letting the serenity of the countryside wash over me. The barn stood tall against the backdrop of the morning sky, and the scarecrow seemed to watch me as I crossed the yard.
I approached the barn, curiosity getting the better of me. Pushing open the creaky door, I stepped inside, the musty scent of hay filling my nostrils. The interior was dimly lit, the sunlight filtering through the cracks in the wooden walls.
I explored every nook and cranny of the barn, but found nothing out of the ordinary. As I turned to leave, something caught my eye. In the corner of the barn, hidden beneath a pile of old blankets, was a small wooden chest.
My heart racing with anticipation, I lifted the lid of the trunk and peered inside. What I found took my breath away. It was a collection of old photographs, yellowed with age, depicting scenes from a bygone era. They were of a man with his family, two young kids, and a beautiful young wife. The man had yellow blonde hair, almost like straw in texture, but he smiled so happily with his family.
I sifted through the photographs, my fingers trembling with excitement. Who had left these behind, and why? Each photograph seemed to tell a story, a glimpse into the past of this forgotten farmhouse.
As I sat there, lost in thought, a sudden noise jolted me back to reality. It was the sound of footsteps coming from outside the barn.
"Hello?" The dreamy voice of a woman called to me from the entrance to the barn.
I slammed the lid of the trunk shut, closing the memories up in a flurry as I spun around to be greeted by a quite pretty woman with blonde hair and a pink suit skirt combo. She had bright pink lipstick, that seemed to be a permanent fixture on her face, and quite shiny and sparkly blue eye shadow on her lids. I myself only wore black eyeliner. This woman was like Barbie in her proportions, thin waist, long hair, and large tracts of land, as my father would have said.
"Oh, hello," I said simply, always awkward in normal social situations.
If she noticed anything odd about me, she breezed over it in an easy manner. Taking me by the shoulders, she led me out of the dusty barn and into the yard.
"You must be Polly. We have been waiting a while for you to come. I simply must know what you think of the renovations to the house. Aren’t they just to die for?" The lady said all in one breath, as if she didn’t need air to speak.
"Yes, they are quite nice..." I started before she cut me off, not in a rude manner but instead in one that she would have continued on even if I had just told her I was not Polly and instead I was a mass murderer looming for my next victim.
"You see, me and my son Eli—yes, Eli, you stop lurking in the shadows over there," she said, continuing on as I noticed a younger man leaning up against the barn. He wore simple clothes of jeans and a white t-shirt but had a handsome face. His hair was brown and hung slightly over his eyes.
"I hope you don’t mind if my son here continues working on some renovations while you stay here? Strictly on the outside of the house, mind you. A fresh coat of white paint would make this little beauty shine. We would have finished by now if not for the accidents," she continued, completely unabashed by my silence.
"Sorry. But you are the realtor?" I said, trying to regain my feet under me.
"Oh my god, I am so sorry, dear!" she said with an affable cackle.
"Yes, yes, I am Barbara, but all my friends call me Barb. That over there is Eli. Eli, come say hi," Barb said while her painted talons rested firmly on my shoulder.
Eli stomped over, keeping his eyes low, in a sort of moody way that actually intrigued me, sort of.
When he glanced up at me, I noticed he drank in me from head to toe, and for the first time, I realized what I was wearing. An old rock t-shirt of one of my favorite bands and, of all things, my black pajama bottoms with cartoon bats on them that said "happy halloween."
I felt my face blush crimson as he made eye contact with me. He had very mysterious eyes of blue that seemed to cut right through my soul.
"Nice shirt," he said while gesturing to me. His voice was quiet and uncertain, as if he didn’t get much practice with the art. Knowing his mother, it seemed highly accurate.
"Thanks. Do you like them?" I asked.
"Oh, he likes all sorts of things, don’t you, Eli? Honestly, you two can gab on forever. But miss, I believe we have a small matter of payment," Barb said, drawing the conversation back to herself.
"Of course. Let me go get it," I said as I went back into the house and retrieved the envelope with the rent money in it.
Barb grabbed the envelope in her bright pink talons and snapped a piece of bubblegum between her teeth. With quick fingers, she leafed through the cash, counting it. As she counted, her normal bubbly personality seemed to disappear, giving way to what I gleaned was her true thoughts and feelings before the facade slipped on once again.
"Mmkay, perfect honey, this is the right amount. Now you have my number, so you call if you need anything. Like I said earlier, Eli will stop by from time to time to work on painting the house. I promise you he won’t be an imposition, just pay him no mind," Barb said in a sweet voice as she popped her gum in between each word.
"Eli, come on, please, I have an appointment in town," Barb said to her son, and they both climbed into a garish pink convertible with jewels hanging from the mirror wrapped in a gold chain.
Barb waved one last time as she sped off out of the driveway, covering me in dust as she spun the wheel around.
With their departure, I went inside and retrieved my camera. I spent a few minutes shooting a few pictures I thought were worthy. I re-entered the barn and pulled the old trunk out into the sunshine. Inside was only a handful of photos, some old clothes, and what looked like some old heirlooms. A beautifully old candlestick and a few leather-bound books lay at the bottom, covered by an old tablecloth. The tablecloth was a nice white with intricate swirling patterns inlaid around the edges.
Why would these things be packed away in here? They were so beautiful. I decided to bring the stuff inside for further inspection. As I lifted the trunk, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw something move in the tall grass at the edge of the property. I stared for a minute, but nothing moved again. I must be getting jumpy being alone like this. After last night and then this, I was just imagining things.
I brought the items inside and spread them out. I put the tablecloth on the table, and it hung low to the ground. I placed the candlestick by the window and took out the photos again, spreading them out.
The photos told me a story of a loving family that obviously lived in the farmhouse before me. They had a photo next to the barn, with a brand new looking scarecrow in the back. The man even had his arm around it; it looked so much cleaner and proper in this photo. I stared outside at the sad-looking scarecrow.
I took my camera and the photo and went outside to stand next to the scarecrow. His post hung kind of crooked in the earth like it was weighed down by the scarecrow.
I snapped a photo of the scarecrow as it was, then examined the original photo. I began resettling the post in the ground, but it kept sagging. I decided to pull him out of the ground and move him while I added more dirt to his hole. With some effort, I reseated him into his original hole. He already looked better, but I straightened his clothes and pulled out the last bits of straw that stuck out of his clothes. When I was finished, I looked back at him and took a photo, smiling while I did so at my work.
I then spent some time sweeping the front porch and banging the dust out of the cushions before I curled up on a wicker chair with plump cushions for a few hours reading a book I had brought with me.
I felt quite content at this place. The sounds of the crickets began again, putting me at ease as the sun began to descend. I had spent the entire day just relaxing, and it was perfect. I sat sprawled out in the chair, too lazy to go and make dinner or even move. My bladder was full, but I waited until the last moment before dashing inside and relieving myself.
That's when I noticed it, out in the yard. It seemed as if the scarecrow had moved closer. Once shrouded by the barn slightly, it now had moved a few steps into the light from the porch. My heart dropped at the sight. Not again, I must be asleep on the porch in the chair. I pinched myself, trying to wake up, but all I received was a sore arm.
I closed my eyes, then rubbed them, hoping to dispel whatever plagued my mind, but when I opened my eyes, I noticed the scarecrow was even closer. Halfway across the yard now, it sat menacingly, hanging crooked in the dirt. The scarecrow seemed to be staring at me with an intense gaze. The slits in its face were open now, and in the porch light, I swear I could see human eyes underneath the mask.
I moved towards the front door, locking it in a swift motion. I was shaking now, and it took me a minute to relax. I never took my eyes off the scarecrow for fear of it moving again.
My cellphone was upstairs, so I couldn't flee without the scarecrow moving again. I breathed out slightly and unlocked the door, letting it swing in with a creak. The night outside was silent, as if everything was holding its breath. The usual crickets that plagued me with their song day and night had fallen quiet. I stepped out onto the porch; I needed to go confront this demonic entity. Something about this still made me think this was a prank.
"Eli, is that you?" I called out to the scarecrow.
No response, of course. I steeled myself and put one foot off the porch, never taking my eyes off the scarecrow before me. Something seemed to be dripping from its head as I approached, a dark slime that seemed to be melting from its joints as it stood there silently, except for the constant drip of the liquid on the dry dirt before me.
I walked around the scarecrow, determined to figure out what was going on. As I circled it, my vision darkened for a moment as I faced towards the light of the house. I jumped as the scarecrow's head turned to face me as I looked away. The black liquid drained faster from the being, forming a shallow pool at its feet.
I'm not proud of what I did next, but I fled, taking my eyes off the scarecrow. I made a mad dash for the farmhouse. Behind me, I could hear the pounding of feet. I screamed as loud as my lungs would let me. My voice rang through the silence as I grabbed the door handle and wrenched open the door as I felt a strong grip fall on my shoulder.
I turned to defend myself, but nothing was there. The scarecrow was gone, the wooden cross had vanished, as had the pool of dark liquid in the dirt. The world sprung back to life; the crickets began chirping loudly, and my heart restarted. I slammed the door, and the air from my force scattered the photographs on the table. I ran upstairs, leaving the lights on in the house, and dove onto the bed, wrapping myself in the frilly blanket like a set of frilly armor.
I snatched my camera from the bedside table and held it close, determined to document the rest of the night. I held it in shaking hands as the noise downstairs began—the sound of boots crossing the floor to the stairs and the careful but heavy steps of ascension as they climbed closer and closer to me.
This time, I didn't lunge forward as the light was already on. I glanced out the window, but the scarecrow was still gone. I focused my camera on the stairs and waited as the steps came closer and closer. A shape began to form as the head of whatever was coming up the stairs crested the floor. Then a plain brown mask with slits where the eyes would be. It froze for a moment, then slowly turned its head towards me. Inside the slits were human eyes that seemed to be leaking dark red blood.
In the light, I could see it now. I snapped a photo of the beast, the flash setting off a reaction in the beast. The scarecrow moved so fast up the stairs it was a blur. My scream echoed throughout the house as it lunged at me. Filthy hands pinned me down, and the deep crimson liquid began pouring out of every joint of the scarecrow. It began covering my face, my eyes, and getting into my open mouth. I spluttered and kicked at the beast, but my blows had no purchase, as if the scarecrow on top of me had no substance to itself.
I coughed and spluttered on the liquid as it began to fill my mouth faster and faster. I tried not to swallow any, but it tried to find purchase as I was held down.
"Polly?" A nervous voice called from below.
Suddenly, as if the angels had called, the pressure dissipated, and I crashed to the floor in a heap, trying to spit the blood out, but nothing came—it was gone. Footsteps pounded up the stairs again, and I flew back in fear, closing my eyes.
"Oh my god. Polly, are you okay?" A voice said, and gentle hands grabbed my arm.
My eyes shot open at the human touch, and I grabbed Eli into a tight hug, where I promptly began sobbing in fear, my whole body shaking as Eli awkwardly hugged me.
"Don't worry, it's going to be okay," Eli said patiently to me as he hugged me back gently and began stroking my back.
I shivered in a choking sob and fell into his arms, desperately wanting to believe him, and for some reason, I did.

As the title states my car keeps eating wheel bearing in the same spot it is worth noting I was having some fun with the handbrake when I hit a curb and fucked up the rim and wheel bearing so I fixed those by getting new wheels all around and tires and replacing the bearing but a couple months down the road and I start hearing a lot of road noise again so I said screw it I got a warranty let’s take it off and see so I did and sure enough it came off in two separate pieces and the bearings were dust JUST LIKE THE FIRST ONE so I came to the conclusion that SOMETHING must be causing it to go bad so I checked and checked and checked and didn’t see anything wrong with nothing along the way besides the bearing of course so here I am asking what the next step is I am willing to take pictures and send them but I just wanna stop eating wheel bearings so I can fix other stuff 😭
EDIT: My Golf is a BASE Golf NOT a GTI if that makes a difference I don’t know I also would like to mention it is the drivers rear if that means anything

Hi. I have a 2019 Honda accord for which I am trying to replace the side mirror. I went to the dealership and they were asking for 400 for the part itself. I found something on eBay for 70, but the wire’s aren’t lining up. I mistakenly got the 3 wire before, and then ordered the 7 (what I thought was correct).
Bear with me, I’m new at this. I don’t usually do this stuff myself, but I am trying to save some money on the labor and part if I can.
Picture attached shows the wires. The left is the new one and the right is what I’m trying to replace (busted).
My question is if the wires absolutely have to match up or is there something I can get away with since only one is out of place?
If I can’t get away with it, would you know where I can find this exact assembly (not dealership). I am not having any luck.
Thank you!

I posted this on RBI, but maybe someone here will be able to help me.
My grandfather served in the US Army Quartermaster Corps during World War II, and was stationed in (among other places) the Netherlands. While he was there, he got to know a couple of Dutch Marines who were being shipped to the United States at the end of the war for some reason. My grandfather, who was still stationed in Europe, told them that if they got to America before he did, they should look up his family.
According to family lore, they did just that: three strapping Dutchmen appeared one day at the doorstep of my great-grandparents' apartment in the Bronx, bearing greetings from Luigi. They apparently caused a big stir in the family, especially among my grandfather's three sisters, who were all in their early twenties at the time.
My grandfather died in 2009, and I only recently heard this story. I'd love to find out more about these men if I can — ideally, I'd be interested in reaching out to their families, but I'd even appreciate just learning who these guys were and how they wound up in New York City immediately after the war.
Here are all the clues I have, drawn from my grandfather's papers that my uncle inherited:

• A photo (front and back) of an unknown man in uniform. He's not one of my relatives, and I assume he's one of the Dutch soldiers who visited my grandfather's family. The back reads, "From Cpl. M.G Nijs, for the girl for souvinier." It was taken at a photo studio in Jacksonville, NC.
• This list of locations (written on the back of his ship ticket) showing where my grandfather was stationed between November 1944 and April 1945. He was in Maastricht in May-April 1945, then in Geleen.
• This photograph (front and back) of a young woman. The back reads: "Cory Baggen, Jeleen, Hol. John + Joe's sister — Scotty took picture from inside trench — the dope!" Scotty was my grandfather's best friend who he served with in the Army.
• A letter sent to my grandfather by "Jeff" from Tilburg, Netherlands, in May 1946. The author's English is pretty rough, and there's a line I can't make out, but they were clearly very close.

I know this is a long shot, but if anyone has any ideas or clues, I'd really appreciate it!

I’m applying for composition contests. Sometimes I’m asked by “anonymous” contests to provide composer biographies, compositional activities, et cetera.
One contest specifically required a list of “awards, degrees, ect.” I can guarantee that if degrees and exclusive summer music camps have any bearing on the winner of the competition, I won’t win.
I’m sure that there are plenty of spoiled trust fund babies whose parents paid for the best teachers and sent them to the WASPiest music schools while paying for all their tuition and expenses.
Shouldn’t composition contests be about the music? Why is it necessary for me to provide this unnecessary information?
If these contests were truly fair and anonymous, none of this information should matter. Shouldn’t the competition be about judging the quality of the music?
If competitions discriminate based on degrees, they unfairly advantage artists who came from privilege and silence the voices of the diverse artists who did not. Maybe straight white male trust fund baby No. #41 who lives in Long Island and who’s grandparents are in the social register has that expensive Juilliard degree his parents paid for and a picture perfect resume. Is he the only one who deserves accolades and awards? Is he the only composer who deserves to be heard?
If a composition contest is truly anonymous or fairly judged, there’s no reason I should have to provide any of this information. The only thing that should matter is the quality of the music that was submitted to the contest.
That being said, if I were to try an exercise in futility because I’m a desperate composer and submit these PDFs anyways, how long should they be and what sort of information should they include? Are there any examples online of a good composer bio or list of compositional activities?

This is all short form as I can make it. When I was 15 years old, I was a little skinny skater kid, was bullied a lot. It was my first year of highschool. (Grade 9, Ontario.) I was bullied horrendously. The county kids would golf club shotgun shells at my face while I would skateboard down the hill after lunch break. It bugged me, but I always had the picture perfect mother and father household to return to. I grew up with perfect parents. I was polite, I was determined, I didn’t let anybody stop me. Then my father starts acting strange. He starts acting childish. And while our humour together is immature, this was a grown man acting like a child. It was scary and started kind of suddenly. I come to find he has a brain tumour as my mom tells me. She always would bring me in to help her fold clothes when she had bad news. Anyways, some time goes by. We learn it is a brain tumour. Some times goes by, we learn it is stage 4 cancer. He didn’t smoke, he would only drink during cookouts with neighbours or watching new episodes of the clone wars animated tv show with me on Fridays. Anyways, he progresses, it becomes nightmarish. The man I knew was already dead at one point. It was like his brain cancer was a parasite. I started to become very dark as a person, and detached. He would watch me play Nintendo 64 with his legs shaking violently, not understanding why I was shooting stormtroopers in the game. I told him they are stormtroopers dad remember? The empire? Over time it became a blur from this point. From what I remember that my brain lets me, he was in hospice, sickly, moon faced, like I was watching cancer take over his body and taunt me. I became addicted to crack cocaine , I didn’t take school seriously anymore, I was around violence, meth, constantly partying and hanging with people twice my age or more and started owing debts. I somehow always managed to weasel my way out with sales from my beatmaking hobby. I completely destroy myself for years, stopped attending school, my mother and I were a team, but I constantly worried her. Hard drugs had taken me over. I lost my sense of reality because I didn’t want to think about my father being wheeled out lifeless. Hugging his cold body one last time at the funeral before he was buried. Fast forward, I have been discharged from the phych ward due to a suicide attempt at 18. I still have my cheo bear even though I was old it brings me comfort. His name is Gus. Years of alcoholism follow. Because after my cheo incident weed would make me shake violently. We now come to present day. I am 24. My mother has remarried with a stepfather. He has learned to ease up around us as he grew up a different way. I started adult high-school last year and just passed my math exam. The alcoholism still exists but only once a weekend. It seems I may have developed diabetes from it but it’s not concrete. It’s hard especially with women explaining how you are starting your fifteen year old life at 23-24 but you know what? It’s never too late. Life certainly has a lot more pain in the future as any adult life does. But a life of being a man completely formed by a traumatic event is rough, underneath that is all of the great heart my father taught me. His last words he spoke were “be grape” it sounds silly but that’s his brain cancer. You could tell there was a frustrated man beneath who could no longer express himself. And he meant be great as my mother said. And I will not die until I am. It is never too late, to be great. ❤️

Everthing I've read online about the pandas MultiIndex makes it seem like a counterpart to a SQL composite index. Is this the correct understanding?
Additionally, MultiIndex is often described as hierarchical. This disrupts the analogy with a composite index. To me, that means a tree structure, with parent keys and child keys, possibly with a depth greater than 2. A composite index doesn't fit this picture. In the case of MultiIndexes, what are the parent/child keys?

Finally i've finished reading every volume and, as someone who loves writing, here i am writing this review just to share my thoughts.
So, it's undeniable that COTE is edgy as hell. Just take a look at Tsukishiro randomly talking about a guy he just killed, BUT at the same time i feel like it makes sense for the series to have edgy elements when you consider the target audience and the elements the story has. It's not an happy story if you dive deep enough in it and can be rather depressive at times. Either way it's better to fully embrace the edge and just enjoy the series how it is since it's a very enjoyable story if you turn off your brain
The characters are what i think is the main appeal of the series. The cast is huuuuuuge as frick and most of the characters, while not very developed, are each flashed out on their own way, which makes them and their interactions with others very enjoyable and fun to read. Just look at a character like Kito who went from a random dude with a scary face to a full-ass character in y2v8 who was a blast to read alongside his interactions with Ryuen. We have the same with other characters like Ishizaki who went from a random Ryuen's pawn to a whole bro, Sudo who went from the everage short-tempered guy to a chad and Ibuki who went from a girl with anger issues to still a girl with anger issues but entertaining to read with her intractions with Horikita and sometimes Kushida. I won't call the cast deep or amazingly written. The only characters who have a superior level of writing are probably Koji and Ryuen but even they aren't that amazing, but that's okay. You don't need to write Guts 2.0 to make an enjoyable character. But now, alongside the characters, two problems surface. One about the community and one about the author. The first one, the one about the community, is that people seem to care only about feats. No one is gonna talk about a character who doesn't outsmart everyone in a single volume just for him to get humbled by Koji five seconds later. And this is what i consider to be an huuuge problem. I get that they are less amazing inside the story but if they're fun to read then aren't they good characters? I get the shit with Yagatwink because he had a disastrous end but with the rest? Why call Nagumo a fraud in the end? The way he lost made sense with his character. I feel like the fact that people only care about feats is what makes more minor characters Kanzaki, Hashimoto or heck even Matsushita, Ibuki or Morishita to be less talked about. I get it when a character is straight up annoying like Ichinose, Yagatwink, Airi, Yagabitch, Ecchinose, Yagamid or Ichinose but the rest feels a bit unnecessary. The second problem lies in the author and his inability to focus on one character properly. I like a large cast, and it's normal not to develop every character but it doesn't make sense to have important characters like Ichika, Kei or even Fuka to not get development because they're important to the story and are even fam favourites. Ichika was abandoned and was left to be a simp, while there was an huge room for development when it comes to her inability to make friends. Kei will probably develop in year 3 but for now she's an NPC and Kiryuin sadly has few appearances and don't get me started on the first years. I'll leave characters like Ishigami, Tsubaki and Koenji out of the picture because it makes sense for them to be a mystery at this point in the story
I shall avoid talking about fanservice because i want to preserve the few mental stability that i currently have
COTE also does a good job with its antagonists. While sadly year 2 was a bit lacking with Tsukishiro amd Yagami, the rest were great. Ryuen was a threat and you wanted to see him continue and take Koji out in the open and GOSH that fight in y1v7 was amazing even in the light novel. Arisu was great with more of an anti-hero type of character? She'll clearly have more screentime as a villain in y3 but for now she still did a great job. Then we have Nagumo who, at least for me, was defeated almost perfectly for his character and it was even sad. You can see the difference from Nagumo in the beginning and in the end. Then there are other characters who will probably become antagonists. The one i'm looking forward the most is clearly Koenji, who's probably better than Koji physically, and could leave a mark. Then there's Ishigami who will absolutely be an antagonist even if not for long and they better not mess that up or istg. Then Tsubaki, the one who probably has the lowest chances to be an antagonist but someone who could still be interesting to see. And then Horikita who will be almost 100% an antagonist for Koji if he ever switches classes. Then there's Atsuomi who i don't wanna talk about because he's a bit disappointing unless he really doesn't wanna Koji to be expelled
I won't really focus on the special exams, not because they're bad but because even today i still don't understand how 90% of them work so bear with me
Going back to character interactions, i feel like that's something the anime, or at least season 1, kinda nailed. S1E7 is one of the main proves of this. I felt as if the pool scene was better in the anime (fanservice excluded) than in the light novel. That was one of the few times i felt the characters mostly acted like kids who wanted to have fun (fanservice excluded) and that small and faint smile they gave to Koji, even if technically nonsensical and not canon, felt great and feels even better the more i read and come to understand him more. Same thing for the time he smiled in y2v10. That scene was very short but it felt amazing to read nonetheless. Character interactions are also the reasons why i love volumes like y1v8, y2v8 or some scenes in the .5 volumes. They just feel fun to read. Seeing Koji skiing with Kushida and Ryuen, even if they wanna see him in the ground and then take a selfie on his grave, felt great and even more after reading about Ryuen chuckling after seeing Koji fall. Or even the scene with Arisu and Koji eating the cake, something so simple but great to me
Now i'd like to talk a bit about Koji's character because he's probably the deepest and most well written in the series. Due to the anime, those yt videos and the Ayanokoji wannabe he became the epitome of the "oh my god he's literally me" and the average edgy character, which i find to be horrendous. I like the jokes about that but i can't stand when one is serious. We all know Koji's main motive in that school is probably just live a quiet life in peace just like a normal high schooler and when you stop and think about him... Goddammit his story is depressing. He never had a normal childhood and he developed a toxic mindset while being in the WR which ruined his life. He's so depressed and traumatised he can't even smile properly and his normal and mundane happy life is constantly ruined by troubles and sabotages by his father (if he really wants to expel him). I know he clearly doesn't have a problem with any of that because he's perfect and all, but having to deal with all of that consistently must suck even for him. Dude can't catch a break and i won't be surprised if we see him breaking at some point in the story (something i'm looking forward to). I just want someone to defeat him just so his father could leave him the fuck alone
Now that we're here, i think i can finally end this. It was short, yeah, but it was fun. COTE is what i consider to be a flawed masterpiece due to the way it keeps you reading but also make you question what the author is doing at times. It's good but it's also bad and i expected much worse in y2. There are obviously many disastrous nitpicks in the series. Ichinose is a whole damn example, but other than those problems, this series is amazing to me. But maybe i have written all wrong stuff and i've completely missed the point in the story, but i don't mind viewing it like this. It's a fun story that i hope won't fall from grace

This is the first track from Panda Bear's sixth album ''Buoys'. What are your thoughts regarding this song? How do you think it compares to the rest of the discography(AnCo included)? How would you rate it out of 10?(decimals allowed)
SUGGESTED SCALE:1-4: Not good. Regularly skip.5: It’s okay, but I might have to be in the right mood to listen to it.6: Slightly better than average. I won’t skip it, but I wouldn’t choose to put it on.7: This is a good song. I enjoy it quite a bit.8-9: Really enjoyable songs. I rank them pretty high overall.10: Masterpiece, magnum opus, or similar terminology.
Sorry guys for not making it so daily anymore, doing IB right now and school just always gets in the way.
Google Sheet with all of the results thus far:

1. Dolphin:

So here's the story, at least as far as I've been told:
My grandfather served in the US Army Quartermaster Corps during World War II, and was stationed in (among other places) the Netherlands. While he was there, he got to know a couple of Dutch Marines who were being shipped to the United States at the end of the war for some reason. My grandfather, who was still stationed in Europe, told them that if they got to America before he did, they should look up his family.
According to family lore, they did just that: three strapping Dutchmen appeared one day at the doorstep of my great-grandparents' apartment in the Bronx, bearing greetings from Luigi. They apparently caused a big stir in the family, especially among my grandfather's three sisters, who were all in their early twenties at the time.
My grandfather died in 2009, and I only recently heard this story. I'd love to find out more about these men if I can — ideally, I'd be interested in reaching out to their families, but I'd even appreciate just learning who these guys were and how they wound up in New York City immediately after the war.
Here are all the clues I have, drawn from my grandfather's papers that my uncle inherited:

• A photo (front and back) of an unknown man in uniform. He's not one of my relatives, and I assume he's one of the Dutch soldiers who visited my grandfather's family. The back reads, "From Cpl. M.G Nijs, for the girl for souvinier." It was taken at a photo studio in Jacksonville, NC.
• This list of locations (written on the back of his ship ticket) showing where my grandfather was stationed between November 1944 and April 1945. He was in Maastricht in May-April 1945, then in Geleen.
• This photograph (front and back) of a young woman. The back reads: "Cory Baggen, Jeleen, Hol. John + Joe's sister — Scotty took picture from inside trench — the dope!" Scotty was my grandfather's best friend who he served with in the Army.
• A letter sent to my grandfather by "Jeff" from Tilburg, Netherlands, in May 1946. The author's English is pretty rough, and there's a line I can't make out, but they were clearly very close.

I know this is a long shot, but if anyone has any ideas or clues, I'd really appreciate it!

Every year I’m confronted with the decision of whether to talk about the Met Gala. And it can be a tough decision if I’m being totally honest - on one hand, it’s always easy to point and laugh at rich Leftists wearing weird costumes and making fools out of themselves; on the other hand, it’s gotten way too easy to do that, and as far as celebrity freak shows go, the Met Gala is sort of like the Oscars at this point: its supposed “unpredictability” is now cliche, its zaniness is now boring. Unless mayhem breaks out—say, like an actor slaps the presenter live on-stage or something like that—then the truth is that no one really cares about any of these events anymore - in fact, I’m still not even sure what the Met Gala is. All I know is that the celebrities dress strangely and then go into I guess a big museum. What do they do inside the museum? Is there some kind of award ceremony? Is it a dance? Is it like celebrity prom or something? Do they sacrifice a live goat and drink its blood while chanting satanic curses? Is it some combination of these things? Nobody knows for sure. And most of all, nobody cares.
But fortunately, something interesting did happen at the Met Gala last week, or at least outside of it. Mobs of pro-Palestine demonstrators, apparently bored of their tent cities on college campuses, slowly marched through Manhattan towards the Met, and when they arrived, they tore down the police barricades and flooded the street.
Just for fun, here’s Lizzo dressed like something that you might find inside an unflushed toilet at Panda Express, and that’s what she wore to the Met Gala while riots raged outside in a clash of poor commies versus rich commies, as Peachy Keenan put it. These riots should also bring to mind I think some immediate logistical considerations that the Democratic Party now has to think about - for one thing, it’s safe to say that planning for the Democratic National Convention is going through some last-minute revisions right about now. Just imagine being in charge of security for the DNC; you’re gonna need bigger barricades than they had at the Met, and probably a lot more cops.
But more barricades and cops aren’t gonna fix the underlying problem that the Democratic Party has created here. There’s now a full-on uprising on the Left against the elitism that Democrats have long embraced - and the media is getting involved, too. Yahoo, for example, has already turned on the Met Gala; they just published a piece declaring, “The Met Gala’s Opulence Is Always Gross. This Year, It’s Obscene.”
Now, the whole article is a rant that hits a crescendo with this paragraph, which is probably the single-longest run-on sentence I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Here it is, this whole thing is one sentence, just so you know:

Even in an era filled with the horrors of late-stage capitalism run amok—bipartisan support for genocide; rolling back of reproductive, civil, and voting rights; a threadbare social safety net; decades of wage stagnation; tax cuts for the the rich; the crushing of unions and labor rights; expansion of the militarized police surveillance state; creeping techno-authoritarianism; untested, unregulated, and unchecked A.I.; entrenched racial inequality and injustice; right-wing and white supremacist extremist violence; and Boeing jet parts falling from the sky like so many dead whistleblowers—that kind of frivolous urgency promises that this year’s event nonetheless will stand out as a vainglorious display of self-congratulatory decadence and tone-deaf extravagance.

Now, first of all, just as a stylistic matter, if you’re going to make a sentence that long, it needs to be coherent. And “Boeing jet parts are falling from the sky like so many dead whistleblowers?” That doesn’t even make sense; the dead whistleblowers didn’t fall from the sky. I mean, they’re not being pushed out planes. One of them shot himself allegedly and the other died of an illness. Now, even if you subscribe to the theory that Boeing’s hitmen killed these whistleblowers—which, who knows, maybe they did—the fact remains that they didn’t fall from the sky. They died on the ground, so the metaphor just doesn’t work. And this is the problem you get into with 100-word sentences: eventually, you just lose track of what you’re saying.
In any event, that whole massive paragraph could be summed up as saying, “We’re living through late-stage capitalism right now.” That’s what the Left-wing media is saying. That’s the way that they are framing this, and of course, “late-stage capitalism” is one of their favorite phrases to use these days. And they used to celebrate the Met Gala, but not anymore. Now they’re saying the same thing the demonstrators are, which is that the frivolous elite are partying while Rome burns—which they are, of course—and they’re furious about it, or pretending to be.
Now, what the media and these demonstrators don’t want to admit is that the elitists at this gala—all the celebrities who are dressed like slutty Star Wars villains and so on—are on their team. The celebrities are part of the ruling class, the protesters and media critics are its products and in some cases quite literally its offspring. Now, to be sure, the celebrities and college administrators and the politicians are reluctant to acknowledge that their own Frankenstein monster is turning against them, but that’s exactly what’s happening.
Remember that it was two years ago that AOC showed up to the Met Gala with a “Tax the Rich” gown. There were a bunch of sympathetic news stories highlighting her bravery at the time, and here’s how AOC justified showing up to an event that costs $300,000 per table while equipped with a custom dress, handbag, shoes and jewelry costing more than $2,000.

REPORTER: “You know this dress has a message for this Met Gala, tell me about what that is.”
AOC: “You know, I made a message, it says ’Tax the Rich’ right there, uh, it’s really about having a real conversation about fairness and equity in our system, and I think that this conversation is particularly relevant as we debate over budget and reconciliation down. What we’re talking about, providing working families with child care, healthcare, and meeting the climate crisis [unintelligible]* it deserves. … I think that ultimately, you know, we’re at a very critical point. I think there are some folks who are starting to really understand that this is a very critical conversation for us to be having right now. Other folks have invested interest in not having that conversation, but our point is to keep organizing and keep it going.”*

It’s a really important conversation, AOC says, some people aren’t ready to hear it, but we need to punish rich people, we need to make them as uncomfortable as possible, we need to take their money, and that was the message from AOC, who not incidentally, grew up in a very well-off suburb.
Her whole schtick was always hypocritical and disingenuous, of course, but it turns out that Leftist activists were listening to this rhetoric, I guess, they were taking it seriously, we’ve seen this a lot lately. When Chuck Schumer threatened Supreme Court justices, Leftists showed up at the justices’ homes; when the White House claimed that “trans kids” were being abused, a Leftist shot and killed Christians; when Democrats accused Israel of “genocide,” college students occupied university buildings; now two years after AOC attacked the Met, leftist gathered outside of the building.
This is the escalation that Democrats have primed this country for; it’s now in progress, whether Democrats intended it to happen to THEM or not—which, of course, they didn’t—but that’s not to say that ruling elites are going to roll over and let this happen. I mean, as you saw in that footage, the cops showed up in force and started making arrests the very second that protestors trespassed through the barricades in front of the Met. They were on the scene immediately.
Now, that’s kind of a noticeable contrast when compare it to other things like when these people set up encampments on college campuses, they were given in most cases a few days, maybe a week, before the cops moved in; when they looted and burned poor neighborhoods, they were given about three months to inflict carnage before anyone did anything about it; but when they showed up at the Met Gala, they were given three SECONDS before the arrests started. So it really shows you kind of how the hierarchy works.
The Democrats can’t protect the rest of the country from these mobs, nor do they intend to. So last night, in addition to creating a scene at the Met Gala, Leftists also vandalized a World War I memorial in New York and torched an American flag in front of it.
So please note, again, the contrast, the hierarchy, and the fact that this was happening at the exact same time as the Met Gala thing - REALLY shows you where the priorities are when you notice what kinds of illegal demonstrations the police will stop and which demonstrations they’ll allow to continue. The mob can deface World War I memorials all they want because in doing so, they’re communicating their hatred for this country and everything it stands for. So the Democrats who run New York aren’t going to stop them. But the mob isn’t allowed to inconvenience celebrities at the Met under any circumstances.
The point is that this is the hierarchy that Democrats clearly want to enforce. The trouble is getting the mob to RESPECT the hierarchy, and the Democrats are having trouble with that at the moment.
Yet they still seem oblivious, the Democrats are—or acting oblivious, at least—to the fact that they created this monster themselves, and that’s why inside the Met, as chaos unfolded outside, the party continued uninterrupted, and so did all of this associated weirdness, which was as off-putting as it’s ever been - take for example this decoy costume worn by someone using the name “Karol G.” Now, apparently she wanted to keep her real costume a secret, so earlier in the evening, she sported this beige umbrella-looking lampshade thing instead.
Now, imagine being a hardcore, AOC-loving Leftist who sees this - Democrats have spent the last several years telling you to despise rich people and commit crimes in the name of political activism, and then down the street from your hippy commune at the local university, some celebrity is walking around in a lampshade costume which probably costs $50,000 or something, and the entire Democratic Party establishment is pretending that it’s all normal. What do you do? How would you view the Democratic Party establishment after seeing this?
Now, as for the costume itself, of course, it’s clearly a bid for attention, and I guess it worked—I’m talking about it—but it’s not even an original idea - as a lot of people have pointed out, the outfit bears a striking resemblance to a certain shower curtain costume from the film “Karate Kid,” only with different colors, so there’s really no redeeming qualities whatsoever here, it’s a total debacle all around.
But to be fair, there was at least some originality on display last night - for example, this celebrity apparently walked through a wind tunnel full of roses somewhere before arriving at the Met, and for her trouble, Vogue named her as one of the best-dressed women of the evening.
We can assume again that this… woman?… paid many thousands of dollars for that outfit, which is just a trench coat with flower peddles and glitter glued onto it. It really looks like something a four-year-old girl might make. As everybody knows, in the mind of a four-year-old girl, anything and everything can be made prettier with copious amounts of glitter and flowers, which is a fine mentality for a small child; doesn’t translate very well in this case. And as self-congratulatory as it is, again, there’s no self-awareness whatsoever - it’s almost as if the entire purpose of the event is to celebrate the elites’ total inability to detect how preposterous, self-absorbed, and laughable they are.
An this is nothing new, it’s been the case since the Met Gala was established, it’s always been a mini-theater of the absurd. What’s changed is that the voting base of the Democratic Party isn’t laughing along with these clowns as much anymore. They turned against the universities; now they’ve turned against Hollywood. What the protesters of course don’t understand is that they have inherited their own worldview and everything they believe from these very institutions and these very people.
Hollywood and Academia don’t realize that they’re being attacked by their own Frankenstein, but the Frankenstein monster also doesn’t realize that it IS the Frankenstein monster. And if Frankenstein ever wakes up to that fact, well then the ruling class will really be in trouble.

You know what they say, if at first you don't succeed....... something or another (P.S. pictures of me on my profile)
Searching for the "one" isnt easy, but what can we do aye? First things first, to throw some random bits of info out there about me! (Info dump incoming 😂)
I'm 24 and biracial! Half Irish and half African/northern Indian, and I'm living in the UK!
I'm approximately 6'0"-6'1" in height and id say an average/kept build. I also have somewhat long-ish hair for a guy, going near my shoulders, it's naturally straight! I also have a well kept somewhat shorter and neat beard :) I also have very fair skin. I guess I took physically more from one side of my heritage 😂🤌 I'm also a Muslim lad! So just putting that out there too for the sake of it.
I do enjoy binging on junk food but between my high metabolism and my physically active job working as an electrician (which I'm trying to fully establish myself in) I tend to never put any weight on 🤷
So! What am I looking for? Well it's a long shot. I'd like to imagine something like the female version of myself. My other half. Someone I find attractive, kind, easy going, fun to get along with, can hold a conversation without making it feel like a one sided effort and chore. Etc!
Important note!!!
IF you are not from the UK. Be aware relocating doesn't appear to be an option for me currently 😅 so bear that in mind please. I am open to a potential long distance but again. There's that.
I guess I'm the hopeless romantic type. Fantasising about soulmates, something real, serious, natural and everything great. Is that easy to obtain these days? Bruh. HECK no 😭 but can a guy try? Well, here's to hoping I suppose. Guess only time will tell
Anyone between the ages of 20-27 is welcome! Anyone who wants to actually get to know each other and dreams about something sincere and real! (With some fun stupidity and jokes thrown in there of course, that banter is a must🗿👍)
I like a woman with a little bit of confidence ya know? Probably one of the most attractive personality traits, who can hold a conversation and engage with the other person you know? Nothing more off putting than someone who gives single worded dead replies lol
Here's a bit more about me. My hobbies! my hobbies are various. I'd argue I'm an ambivert. Though my main hobbies lean towards something a little more introverted. You have hiking and the likes as well as going out with friends and driving around at night with them, but then you also have gaming which is a huge hobby of mine!!
So yeah! There's my shot being let out. I'd say I consider myself to be an honest and open book and would like someone who is open, honest and sincere in the same way!
Oh! And my preferred platform is Snap (:
So. Here's to hoping!

You know what they say, if at first you don't succeed....... something or another (P.S. pictures of me on my profile)
Searching for the "one" isnt easy, but what can we do aye? First things first, to throw some random bits of info out there about me! (Info dump incoming 😂)
I'm 24 and biracial! Half Irish and half African/northern Indian, and I'm living in the UK!
I'm approximately 6'0"-6'1" in height and id say an average/kept build. I also have somewhat long-ish hair for a guy, going near my shoulders, it's naturally straight! I also have a well kept somewhat shorter and neat beard :) I also have very fair skin. I guess I took physically more from one side of my heritage 😂🤌 I'm also a Muslim lad! So just putting that out there too for the sake of it.
I do enjoy binging on junk food but between my high metabolism and my physically active job working as an electrician (which I'm trying to fully establish myself in) I tend to never put any weight on 🤷
So! What am I looking for? Well it's a long shot. I'd like to imagine something like the female version of myself. My other half. Someone I find attractive, kind, easy going, fun to get along with, can hold a conversation without making it feel like a one sided effort and chore. Etc!
Important note!!!
IF you are not from the UK. Be aware relocating doesn't appear to be an option for me currently 😅 so bear that in mind please. I am open to a potential long distance but again. There's that.
I guess I'm the hopeless romantic type. Fantasising about soulmates, something real, serious, natural and everything great. Is that easy to obtain these days? Bruh. HECK no 😭 but can a guy try? Well, here's to hoping I suppose. Guess only time will tell
Anyone between the ages of 20-27 is welcome! Anyone who wants to actually get to know each other and dreams about something sincere and real! (With some fun stupidity and jokes thrown in there of course, that banter is a must🗿👍)
I like a woman with a little bit of confidence ya know? Probably one of the most attractive personality traits, who can hold a conversation and engage with the other person you know? Nothing more off putting than someone who gives single worded dead replies lol
Here's a bit more about me. My hobbies! my hobbies are various. I'd argue I'm an ambivert. Though my main hobbies lean towards something a little more introverted. You have hiking and the likes as well as going out with friends and driving around at night with them, but then you also have gaming which is a huge hobby of mine!!
So yeah! There's my shot being let out. I'd say I consider myself to be an honest and open book and would like someone who is open, honest and sincere in the same way!
Oh! And my preferred platform is Snap (:
So. Here's to hoping!

I’m not very knowledgeable about the usual “manly” stuff, so please bear with me. What type of pipe is used to make the blowgun in this picture? I believe it’s just a Cold Steel blowgun, but I’m not positive. Does anyone have recommendations, a contact or know how I can get some pieces of bamboo from the Philippines, or other places? I’d love to try and make my own! Thanks!

i figured this would be the best sub to ask, but if not please direct me to the right one!
i was at work earlier today & saw a woman with a rlly cool shirt with amanda on it, i wanted to ask her where she got it from but she had earphones in & had her music loud enough that i could hear it so i didnt wanna bother her & figured i'd js be able to find it online lmao
i cant fully remember the front design, but im pretty sure it had a pic of amanda in the reverse bear trap? ik for a fact it had a couple spirals too, but unfortunately thats all i can remember for the front :(. the back was more memorable tho, it was amanda standing facing forward with the pig mask on, but the picture was all in red. the shirt itself was black
ive been searching online for over an hour & can't find it, if anyone recognizes my (bad) description pleaseeee lmk i want it so bad!!! thank you!

Hello there!
I'm a (very, very, very,) traditionally minded man with a passion for our Lord above all else.
White, blue eyes, short dark hair, long dark beard, healthy build. I've never been married, and I have no children. I'm looking for the woman I'll marry and have children with, that I can love, protect, provide, and guide. Seems reasonable to me. The Lord has someone out there for me so I'm making it as easy as I can for her to find me. Assuming, of course, that she visits here and reads posts.
I live a pretty quiet life and I like it that way. I moved here from Florida last year to be closer to the parents as they get older, so for the foreseeable future I'm in the area with no intention of leaving it. Even if I live in a city now when, in Florida, I lived in the forest with bears who regularly came to visit. So, it’s been a pretty big change. Most of the time I am either at home, church, or work. Unfortunately I work alone (night shift, but I'm not asleep the whole entire day, don't worry,) and if you've ever been to an Orthodox church... Well, there's a reason I'm on here, after all.
I don't watch many TV shows or modern films nor do I play video games so if screen time is a big part of your life then we likely won't have a lot in common. Prayer, reading (usually a fiction and nonfiction going at the same time,) saying "stop that" to the animals, playing music (guitar,) and working out is my normal daily routine. I have no social media. I don't even use reddit beyond posting here. I am pretty much the definition of "what you see is what you get." I am who I am, for better or worse.
I wouldn't say that I'm particularly picky about who messages, but I do have certain morals and values (what is an isn't appropriate, premaritally speaking, is a common one...) that I'm unwavering with. Again: very traditionally minded. The top things I look for are kindness and respect. It will be about 2 messages before I bring him up anyway, so if you're at all familiar with St. John Chrysostom and his writings on marriage and finding a spouse, that's pretty much what I'm after and offering.
100% willing to trade pictures with you. Less comfortable putting my face up on a public post like this.
I don't generally care where you are from... Though, it should go without saying that given my intention to find love and eventual spouse, there should be a real possibility for meeting, if we reach that point. Open to meeting on the internet, not so much if it stays that way forever, you know? That could cause some logistical issues. So, if you live in California or Siberia and have no plans to visit my general vicinity and relocate (and are unable/unwilling to make those plans,) in the future, it probably won't work out.
So, feel free to introduce yourself if you feel yourself wanting to! Worst case scenario, we're not right for one another. Best case? It's the beginning of something wonderful. Married, children, animals, blessings from the Lord.
Either way, I wish you nothing but the best on your journey.

Hello and welcome to a very special installment of The Great Spice Off! What is The Great Spice Off?
I love the scent of Old Spice, so much so that it's the only aftershave I use as I don't really feel a need to splash anything else on. But, as we all know, Old Spice no longer makes shaving soap. They do still make a cream but that's hardly a great soap and it doesn't actually smell like Old Spice. As such my plan is to test out all the Old Spice options that are out there on as many bases as possible both to try out a variety of bases from different soapmakers and to report back to you on who really nails the scent.
I'll be shaving three times with each soap, using a variety of brushes and razors, and blades. Yes, I know that means it won't be exactly scientific but this is going to take a while and I want to use all my other shit too. Soaps will be rated on a few factors and given points from 1-5 for each.

• Oldness: How much does the soap smell like OG Old Spice. This is the more analytical scent analysis and I'm comparing to an OG Old Spice aftershave I have and the Shulton aftershave from India.
• Spiciness: This is the je ne sais quois of Old Spice. Does the soap make me feel the nostalgia, warmth, and whatever it is about the scent that works. Is there something special about it that makes it stand out? Does it invoke a memory or make a new one? The most subjective of this list.
• Lather: You know, can I make a shave soap out of it.
• Shave: How's it work on the ol' face while shaving.
• Post: How's the scent profile after the event. How does my face feel.

Crowne & Crane The Spice

And so we enter (for now) into a strange little corner of Old Spice dupery that I honestly wouldn't have even entered if I had read the description of The Spice before ordering it long ago. Also, if Crowne & Crane hadn't named the soap something pretty inaccurate. Also, also, if I hadn't accidentally picked up a second dupe of the scent recently. Yes, The Spice is not an Old Spice dupe but an Old Spice Limited Edition (LE) dupe.
Record Scratch. Double Take. Wuuuuuuuh!???
So you're asking yourself what the heck is an Old Spice LE. Well, despite what most think, Old Spice has had many scents over the years and almost none of them are riffs or new twists on their original Old Spice scent. Old Spice, the company/brand, made a plethora of scents throughout the history of producing Old Spice that, while all fell in the kind of old fashioned scenting category, had nothing to do with what we think of as Old Spice. Old Spice LE was one of these scents. From the dating I can find online, it was released sometime in the early 90s and stuck around for a chunk of that decade and possibly into the 2000s. It's also possible it was a scent released every couple of years as I can see a few different bottle versions. I don't actually know that much about it, have never smelled the original myself, and the Internet is not actually full of Old Spice product history let alone a defunct aftershave from the early 90s.
Whatever the history, what appears to be consistent is that it came in a clear bottle and was called Limited Edition. It also featured a base of amber, cedar, and woods with supporting notes of cardamom, lavender, moss, and jasmine, and citrus top notes. As you can see, aside from the citrus, it doesn't have all the much in common with Old Spice but that hasn't stopped a fragrance seller from selling a dupe of the discontinued scent for those who may still be looking for it. And so, there are soapers out there who pick this scent up for whatever reason instead of actual Old Spice. Actually, there are only two and Crowne & Crane are the only ones I can find doing it intentionally (more on that in a future review). They're also naming it The Spice, which is a little misleading considering the only spice scent in it is cardamon and given the lavender, citrus, and moss present its clearly intended to be somewhat of a fougère. The Spice, I think we can all agree, is not the name anyone would give a fougère.
So why then am I even reviewing it? That is like asking why do people climb Everest? Why do athletes push their body to the extremes? Why does the woodchuck chuck wood? If these questions could be answered then perhaps I could answer why I am reviewing this. But they can't be.
Crowne & Crane was founded in 2016 by Karl and Liz, whose last names I can't find so we'll call them Karl Crowne and Liz Crane. Karl was an enthusiast it looks like before going into the ol' soapmaking business and, being founded pre-2020, is officially an ol' timer in the artisan soap industry. Despite that longevity they aren't really all that popular around these parts with u/PhilosphicalZombie and u/loudmusicboy literally being the only two folks who appear to use them regularly if at all. I'd say that's maybe because they're not just a shave soap company but Stirling isn't either so that logic kind of flies out the window. Then again, we're a bunch of grown men and women telling other people how we removed hair from our bodies on a daily basis. Logic means nothing here.
Crowne & Crane have two bases, vegan and tallow. Most of their soaps are in tallow only and that's what The Spice comes in so that's what we're working with here. Of note is a commitment to organic, humanely-raised cows for the beef tallow, which is always a plus in my book (and sustainably sourced palm oil). The soap itself is kind of dry and chalky, not in a bad way and it wasn't hard or falling apart. It's a soft, dry soap, which are not contradictory things. The base is made up of Potassium Tallowate, Sodium Tallowate, Potassium Stearate, Sodium Stearate, Aloe Vera Juice, Potassium Cocoate, Sodium Cocoate, Phthalate-Free Fragrance, Potassium Shea Butterate, Sodium Shea Butterate, Kokum Butter, Sodium Lactate, Glycerin, Lanolin, Tussah Silk. Nothing to much to comment on here except I can't stop saying the word tussah over and over in my head. It's a weird word and now it doesn't feel real I've said it so much. Tu... ssah. Tooo suuuhhh...
The labeling is a nice vintage boat symbol, which, again, is a bit misleading given the LE branding was very much a modern (for the 90s) Old Spice look, not the classic schooner branding of the OG Old Spice. If you weren't paying attention (*cough* me *cough*) you might just order this thinking you got an Old Spice dupe and open the lid to find you most assuredly did not. Well, open the lid is a bad description as I bought their 3 oz puck option instead of the 5 oz jar and it came wrapped in paper. 3 oz, by the way, is a great mid-price option that gives you more than a tiny sample but not a full plastic tub. I'd be perfectly happy to have other shaving companies offer this... please... please... there's so much soap under my sink. So... much... soap.
(Sidenote: if you are looking to get their soaps, do it quick as they're going on hiatus during a move in two days!)
Oldness: 0
As a scent not designed to smell like Old Spice this one knocks it out of the park. In fact, it does such a great job not smelling like Old Spice I'd put it up there with some of the greatest scents that don't smell like Old Spice ever made. Have a scent that doesnt's smell like Old Spice that you love? This one smells as much not like Old Spice as that one does! If you're looking for something that doesn't smell like Old Spice but has the word Spice featured in its name and the words "Old" and "Spice" in the description next to each other than this is the soap for you.
Spiciness: 3
This is actually a pretty solid scent even if its called The Spice but isn't really a spicy scent at all. It's definitely a vintage scent, though, and reminds me a bit of Seaforth! Spiced but not as good. Because of that I'm going to say that it still captures a bit of that classic feel that Old Spice gives you even if its a scent from the 90s, a decade that has yet to fall into the "classic" zone and thus still feels like everything from it was cringe (including teenage me).
Lather: 5
What an absolutely brilliant lather The Spice kicks up. From the moment water hits it turning it into a thick prot-lather to the gloriously shiny conclusion, it's just a pleasure to lather. The soap is super thirsty, which can often lead to some dialing issues but I never had those aside from having to add a lot of water to both my larger scoop shave and my medium scoop. You don't need a lot of soap to get this going big and it's really easy to get there and looks great the entire time. If you were going to make an ad about shave soap -- as we all dream to do -- and needed a pretty lather to build up this would be a great choice.
Shave: 3
The Spice offers an incredible cushion of soap that can tackle even the most aggressive razor, making it feel barely there on your skin. However, it is, at best, mid-tier on its slickness with limited residual slickness too. As I reduced the amount of soap I used on each shave I figured I'd eventually hit a lather that was both full of cushion and slickness, but even on my final shave with the least amount of lather I wasn't too impressed with the glide provided. There's slickness there, it's not like dragging some sort of pillowy sandpaper over your face or anything but despite the copious amounts of water I added it never truly peaked.
Post: 2
The Spice's Old Spice LE scent isn't exactly complimentary with either my Indian Old Spice for the vintage one. It's not an afront to the nostrils or anything (sometimes I picture what nostrils being afronted would look like and it weird me out) but it ain't great. It probably plays a bit better with the more floraly vintage spice if I was forced to choose one by some deranged wet shaving person forcing people to shave with stuff. The soap also left my skin feeling a little sticky for some reason, like there was a layer of it still on there. That dissipated quickly but it was an odd sensation.
Final Verdict: 13
Crowne & Crane might be one of my favorite soaps to lather as it's easy to do, looks fantastic, lathers big, and just drinks up the water. It's just kind of fun working it into a lather and for someone who appreciates the process of wetshaving that's a big deal. The shave doesn't quiet live up to the lather, though, despite some really great cushion. Where it really disappoints is the post shave where it not only still doesn't smell like Old Spice (even if it was never trying to) but also left my face feeling a little icky. No one likes an icky face, just ask .
Previous Great Spice Offs:

1. 1940s Old Spice Shaving Soap in Vintage Mug (9)
2. 1973-91 Old Spice Shaving Soap (7)
3. Old Spice Shaving Cream (Original) (12)
4. Master Soap Creations Vintage Spice (19)
5. Black Ship Grooming Classic (17)
6. OSP Old Gold (19)
7. Chiseled Face Groomatorium Trade Winds (17)
8. Wholly Kaw Twice as Spice (17)
9. Barrister and Mann Barrister's Reserve Spice (21)
10. Mama Bear Aged Spice (10)
11. MERShaving Old Timer Spice (20)
12. Soap Commander Endurance (20)
13. Signature Soaps Novus Spice (17)
14. Hoffman's Shave and Soap Company Burn the Ships (19)
15. Phoenix Artisan Accoutrements Cold Spice (15)
16. Hendrix Classics & Co Commodore (20)
17. Ginger's Garden Old Spice Type (15)
18. Lisa's Natural Herbal Creations Mariner (10)
19. Stone Field Shaving Company Ltd. No. 37 (18)
20. Cooper & French Old Goat (19)
21. The Holy Black Artisan Line Shaving Soap (21)
22. Stirling Soap Co. Stirling Spice (20)
23. Van Yulay Spicy Man (10)
24. Pinnacle Grooming The Good Ship OS (15)
25. Mystic Water Soap Windjammer (14)
26. The Village Soap Smith Old Spice (Type) (14)
27. Cloud Shave "Unscented" (13)
28. Wet the Face Spices From the Sea (17)
29. Artifact Soapworks Old Spice (Type) (15)
30. DentonMajik Ole Fife (21)
31. Phoenix Artisan Accouterments Oud Spice (17)
32. Lativ Natural Skin Revival Shaving Soap Old Spice (8)

Special Editions

• Summer Break Soaps Remote Learning
• Spearhead Shaving Company Seaforth! Spiced
• Eleven Shaving Unscented/Hendrix Classics & Co Commander

I'm also looking for the below soaps if you've got any you're willing to sell/trade/donate:

• Wild West Shaving Co. Snake Oil
• Wickam Spice Trade
• Occult Grooming Essentials Modern Spice
• Fougare Salem

I already have these soaps that I have not reviewed yet:

• Bundubeard Reijger
• Bundubeard Drommedaris
• Bundubeard De Goede hoop
• Areffa Soap The Sea Son

I (32 f) live with my boyfriend, Jay (33 m) and his best friend Autumn (37 f). I apologize for the long story, and I need your advice. I met my boyfriend, Jay, online. We knew each other for several years before we dated long distance. I moved across the country to be with him in 2022, and moved into the apartment he shared with Autumn. I knew in advance that Autumn and Jay had been intimate before he and I had ever dated, and that he had cut any romantic or intimate things off with her. Autumn was the final approval for me moving in with them. There was trouble from the day I moved in. Her cat did not get along with my cat. It caused an explosive fight between myself and Autumn, because she was very protective and defensive. Autumn has mental health issues she faces, and I struggle with cPTSD and anxiety. This made communication almost impossible between the two of us, and wedged Jay in between us. To make things worse, her car died. I fronted the money to buy her a $2000 car. She never once made arrangements to pay me back, though Jay promised that they would do so. (Over one year later she has not paid back one penny.) Jay lost his job and she worked less than 20 hours a week, so I became the provider. I paid all but $180 of rent, I paid for the food of 3 people. I never placed blame. I never complained. In fact, I made him a resume and helped him job hunt.
Jay got a job and I was able to borrow from my 401k and I purchased a home (only in my name) in 2023. Jay pays for Autumn’s expenses, such as a major car repair, tire replacements, etc (I believe he feels obligated since she cannot afford anything on her wages). I agreed to allow Jay and Autumn to both move in. If I did not agree to allow Autumn to move in, she would have become homeless, and I couldn't bear to be the cause of something like that. Autumn agreed to pay rent of $400, which is extremely affordable for our area, or any area for that matter. She was unable to pay more than $200 in rent for the first three months we lived in my home. She could not afford food. She couldn't afford anything.
Meanwhile, there are several explosive meltdowns between Autumn and me. After facing years of abuse from family and my ex, I am unwilling to tolerate poor treatment. Boundaries are something Autumn struggles to understand, and continues to struggle with, even after we had passed one year of being roommates. Jay is very defensive when it comes to Autumn, and feels in debt to her due to prior relationship choices. He is very hesitant to acknowledge that there is a problem, and basically pictures that she will forever live at his side.
Autumn now has a new job. She can now pay her $400 rent but that is basically it. Jay and I pay for the food for 3 grown adults. He still pays for major incidents that come up for her.
I am at my breaking point. The most recent issue between Autumn and myself is noise because I work from home. I am a very quiet person, the type to listen to my phone on the lowest volume setting. She is a very loud person on a good day, and lately the noise has become very disruptive. She's the person listening to her devices on max volume. I have made moves to alter my office to help keep noise out, like hanging up hooks for a noise dampening curtain on my door, putting a fan on for white noise, listening to music, and it often isn't enough even then. I cannot alter my space any further. Now it is on her. And yet, this has caused a big fight when I mentioned it and asked her to be respectful. She tells everyone (Jay and her online friends) that I must prove myself to be different. She's convinced I'll kick her out at a whim like her abusive father (despite that the law says I would need to give her 30 days notice minimum). I can hear everything she says, considering her whisper is a normal person's raised volume level. Autumn likes to tell her friends things about me, like how I must be jealous of her. She is really good at hurting my feelings. I take pride in being a caring and giving and kind person. I'm feeling taken advantage of.
At this point, I have grown very resentful. All this time she has worked less than 30 hours a week. I work close to 50 hours to support us. She wakes me up several times a month being loud in the mornings. She continues to have an issue with her volume. She has a blow up fight with her friends, injures her knee, is out of work for two weeks… it all just piles up on me. But I'm the rude one, the cruel jealous girlfriend who won't give her a break. I am sick of it. I can't even have an intimate relationship with Jay for his fear of her being hurt about it or something (he doesn't want to elaborate). I don't know what to do. Side note: Since I am always at home, I'm confident there's nothing romantic between the two of them.
Her lease is up in November and I just don't want her to renew. I want her to move out. I am afraid that when I tell them this, Jay would be very hurt, and would disagree, and Autumn would be vindictive. I'm at the point where my relationship is suffering and I am burnt out and exhausted every day. In the past when I even hint at this, he has been very dismissive and doesn't want to talk about the potential of having her move out. At this point, I'm afraid I'll have to break apart my relationship to get this woman out of my life. How should I approach this with Jay?

https://imgur.com/a/MVcsbzq
Selling a few boards in layouts that I don't use often anymore. These do not come with keycaps or switches just base board and their accessories, if you need caps or switches I can throw some in as well.
Apollo80 in Blue + Beige (Forgot the colorway name) $425 SHIPPED

• Pristine
  
• Built with solder pcb + lubed TTC holy pandas
  

Think 6.5 v3 in Coffee $375 SHIPPED

• Pristine.
  
• PC + Hotswap PCB
  

Tomo75 in Olive $350 SHIPPED

• Pristine.
  
• PC + Milmaxxed PCB
  

Mr. Suit TKL (WKL) in Maroon Red $425 SHIPPED

• Scratch in back of keyboard (pictured)
  
• PC + solder pcb, built with durock POM switches.