4 guys 1 sandboxm

Both co-captains have been out of town and I’ve been wondering what the consensus is for putting up your Skill Level 3 vs. Opponent’s SL 6/7.
I realize it’s good strategy to hopefully win 1 or 2 racks and the other 4 match-ups should be more favorable. But isn’t it demoralizing to play someone 3-4 Skill Levels higher?

I've been using a Fitbit for a couple years-initially bought an inspire for sleep tracking purposes, and updated to a charge a little over a year ago when I started running more and wanted GPS. It was great at first, but as I started running longer have had pervasive problems with GPS accuracy and battery life, and recently the app seems to be going downhill. For those reasons, contemplating switching to a Garmin.
I've seen the Venu3 recommended for those focused on general fitness/purposes and the Forerunner 265 for those who run. I'm torn because I'd like to have better running metrics and reliable GPS, but also want reliable sleep tracking. Venu3 also has a lot of features I won't use (not looking to send messages, play music, etc.)
I'm hoping someone familiar with them could answer these questions I haven't seen answers to elsewhere:

1. What running features are missing from the Venu that Forerunner has? I'm not training for anything and not a competitive runner, so don't need a lot of features aimed at training to post better times, but would be nice to have clear pace data, cadence, and elevation. Do both models have these?
2. I understand that Garmin Sleep tracking requires you to program in when you sleep. How does this work in practice? Does this mean that if I don't go to sleep and wake up exactly as scheduled it will have inaccurate data? (ie if I program it for sleep from 11:00 to 7:00, but one night I read for an hour and fall asleep at midnight, will it count the reading time as sleep time?). Is this different between the Forerunner 265 and Venu3?
3. Are there other Garmin models that would be a better fit for a runner who prioritizes sleep tracking?
4. How do the GPS results compare between these two? I run along in an urban area near the water and the Fitbit has me darting out over the water on one side and then zigzagging through buildings on the other, so obviously giving very rough mileage results. Is the Venu3 going to be similiar?

Thanks in advance!

Calculating Elevation PSI Loss in a Closed-Loop Water System.
I work on landscape irrigation designs for large developments in a relatively flat area of the country. We have a project in a boujie hillside community. The irrigation system is a looped 3,132 ft, 3" line pushing around 120 GPM at peak. This is my question.
How do I calculate the PSI loss for elevation on a looped system? The POC WM is in the middle of the site's elevation profile at 1751. The site's low point is 1703, and its high point is 1780. Do I take the total elevation across the site of 77' (33.34 PSI) and use that for my head loss or do I use the delta between the high point/POC elevation of 29' (12.56 PSI). Since this is a looped system, does the pressure equalize across the entire system?
I am fine either way. If I take the high/low loss, I will end up with 5.54 residual pressure. I am just curious what the right number would be to use in my critical analysis. See below for my calculation so far (sorry for the formatting):
Generated: 2024-05-13 11:59
P.O.C. NUMBER: 01
Water Source Information: 118 PSI
FLOW AVAILABLE
Water Meter Size: 2"
Flow Available 120 GPM
PRESSURE AVAILABLE
Static Pressure at POC: 118 PSI
Elevation Change: 77.00 ft
Service Line Size: 3"
Length of Service Line: 20 ft
Pressure Available: 84 PSI
DESIGN ANALYSIS
Maximum Multi-valve Flow: 110 GPM
Flow Available at POC: 120 GPM
Residual Flow Available: 10 GPM
Critical Station: 44
Design Pressure: 50 PSI
Friction Loss: 4.37 PSI
Fittings Loss: 0.44
PSI Elevation Loss: 0
PSI Loss through Valve: 2.5 PSI
Pressure Req. at Critical Station: 57.3 PSI
Loss for Fittings: 0.5
PSI Loss for Main Line: 5.03
PSI Loss for POC to Valve Elevation: 0 PSI
Loss for Backflow: 5 PSI
Loss for Master Valve: 1.13
PSI Loss for Water Meter: 9.5
PSI Critical Station Pressure at POC: 78.5 PSI
Pressure Available: 84 PSI
Residual Pressure Available: 5.54 PSI

Genocide looked to the sky. He thought of his mentor. The one who had saved him. He remembered his childhood. How powerless he was. He remembered the anger. He never wanted to hurt anybody. He thought of all the times he showed compassion. How much they hurt him for it. He saw the world before him, a graveyard. Humans. People that were supposed to be made in the image of some divine creator. They were but maggots feasting upon his remains. They ate away at his very being until nothing human remained. His thoughts were no longer his own. He had no joys in life that mattered. He hated humanity more than he could love anything about himself. He remember his first killing spree. Being gunned down by police. Left for dead. He remembered a hooded figure moving towards him. Getting closer the more he neared his death. He saw its pale face. Its impossibly black eyes. It was a man. This figure in question appeared to be of Japanese nationality with long, straight, loose hair. It emanated extreme malice. It offered him a choice. A purpose. Power. He thought the figure a reaper but it identified itself as Amakusa Masataka. Masataka guided him on how to kill and gave him specific locations to kill people in. In a sense, he became a hitman for quotas of people. He inquired what Masataka was. The presence of evil, his ability to appear and disappear at will, how he could control what people could see him and what people couldn't. While vague, years of killing for this being offered some insight. Amakusa Masataka belonged to a group of people not of this world. His people had been corrupted by a dark force long ago and had aligned themselves with the warlord who had subjugated their version of Japan. Their dark high priest assisted the warlord along with two others. These four rulers in turn served a larger order. The four were tasked with bringing about the end of the current world as an act of retribution for some fallen deity. Masataka's people acted as covert operatives for this empire. They were feared across the land and were collectively referred to as "Shinigami". An agent of the coming apocalypse, a servant of evil possessed by the will of those gods of death, Genocide would walk the earth.
Genocide stepped toward the station. A police cruiser rammed into him. He pulled out a knife and stabbed the hood of the car. The inhuman force of the knife created sparks which burst the engine into flames. The car crashed into a streetlight and exploded. A second cruiser neared the scene. No way a man could have done this. Yet still, out of the fires Genocide strode forth. It set upon the second vehicle, shooting out it's tires while jumping 9 feet into the air. The car tries to reverse but crashes into a wall. Genocide lands on the hood and kicks through the front window. Glass shatters under its boot, blinding the two officers inside. Genocide shoots one of the officers with a shotgun, killing him. The second officer in the passenger seat readies his pistol and takes aim. Only two shots fired, both directed at Genocide's head. It casually cocks its neck to avoid them. Then it grabs the officer's arm, breaking it. Genocide uses its free hand to grab the officer's head and bangs it into the dashboard no less than 5 times. The skull is shattered on the final impact. Genocide jumps off the car and continues on his mission.
Detective Evans speaks through a megaphone," This is your first and final warning. Stand down or we will use any and all means at our disposal to put you down." Genocide dropped its shotgun and raised its hands. A group of five SWAT team members rushed out the station, surrounding Genocide with riot shields. An officer accompanies them, edging behind the figure to apply handcuffs. Suddenly, Genocide springs to life , grabbing the officer behind him. He flips the officer over his head, slamming him into the pavement at his feet. Then Genocide stomps his head causing it to burst. Genocide drops a flash bomb from his coat sleeve, blinding the SWAT team as he draws his knife. He drives it into one SWAT member, the knife puncturing the shield and piercing his chest. Genocide kicks the corpse away withdrawing his knife. He goes to another, this time using the end of his boot toe in a rising kick to disarm their shield. He grabs them by the throat and drives the knife slowly into their eye socket. Another is tackled to the ground and beaten to death despite still being under the shield. Another is picked up and thrown into the fires still burning from the first auto incident. In no time, Genocide stood before an indistinguishable mass of gore, blood streaking across his black leather outfit. He laughed" So this is all you can give me. I'm not entertained." Officers took aim from the station windows, and snipers did so from other rooftops. Genocide laughed maniacally as he was rained down upon from all sides by a hailstorm of bullets. His body convulsed, but he did not fall. Moments more and he was on his knees. Still though, their efforts were futile. Gracia looked out and saw a black mist coalescing around the man in black. His blood. Blood erupted from his body only to transform into this dark mist that reentered his wounds. Genocide screamed. No. It was just an elevated pitch in his laughter. Optimism failed everyone yet again. Gracia saw Genocide holding something in his right hand. She could only make out a beeping red light. Genocide pushed the button triggering the carefully concealed explosives he laid in preparation for this event. C4 explosives went off in all the places he saw fit. The sniping posts he couldn't reach. The assault of lead lightened. Then Genocide drew an RPG from...somewhere. He collected himself and fired at the station's entrance. The explosion shook the station. From inside, the lights began to flicker. Communications were down on all fronts. Had he modified the rocket with some type of EMP? Not good. Amisdst the confusion Genocide entered using smoke bombs to mask his presence. Moving like a shadow, he killed everyone in the lobby silently with his knife. He made his way to the holding cells. Still they chanted. Still they praised. Still they raved for the arrival of genocide. Genocide shot the lock opening the cell. Jim Jimenez walked out and bowed before his master. Genocide smiled. He couldn't have imagined how proficient he had gotten with possession. Well, not quite possession. He had known of the Shinigami's ability to share their thoughts and emotions with humans. Shinigami like his mentor were ancient. They had so many years of memories, such strong a hatred for life that they overwhelmed the personality of the victim. The victim sees themselves as one of them. Shinigami can't force the will of the victim, so they find those who are already similar to them in some way. Genocide found the collective universal distrust of police to be a prime sentiment to capitalize on. He armed the inmates, infecting them with samples of his own dark essence.One particular inmate caught Genocide's eye. He knew the man's work. An arsonist. The one whom he recalls was responsible for blowing up his first car way back in high school. Rather than a standard firearm, Genocide gave the man a random assortment of grenades containing a special surprise. Genocide showed them visions of anarchy, of sending a message to a society that used and disregarded them. While this was also true of how he felt, years of living in darkness had changed him. He needed no purpose. No end goal. No justification. He just wanted to watch the world burn.
Genocide's small army broke off to engage several different wings of the station. Genocide went to the security room. He found Wayne, his informant, playing some FPS on one of the monitors. Wayne took of his headphones and asked," You kill everyone yet?" Genocide responded," No. You should get going before that happens. Your life becomes fair game if I run out of pigs to cook." Wayne clapped his hands, "Aight, GC my man, say less." He packed his things and left. Genocide drew a twin pair of handguns and laid waste to the station. He followed a group that took cover in the men's restroom. Kicking open multiple stalls he was surprised to find...nothing. Where had they gone? He turned around and saw his mentor, Masataka, smiling at him. It looked like him. Long, dark hair, black clothing, and soulless, empty eyes. But it wasn't. It was Genocide's own reflection in the mirror. Genocide smiled. He didn't notice the changes at first. They must have happened gradually. Subconsciously. From the final stall, an officer sprung into action, rushing Genocide, hitting him point blank with a shockgun round. Genocide felt the tingling sensation electrifying his body and grew numb. In spite of the pain, he took a single step. Then, another. He came within striking range of the officer and snatched the shockgun. Two more officers erupted from another stall, battering him with baton strikes. Genocide felt nothing. He clutched the shockgun in his hand like a bat and went to work pulverizing his attackers. An officer kicked in the bathroom door, a woman holding a pistol. She fired multiple times to no effect. Genocide stood covered in blood. He even let her reload. Twice. He wanted to see her despair. Her hopelessness. He walked towards her, shrugging off bullets as they pierced his body. His wounds healed nigh instantly due to the dark essence he had been imbued with. He held her face with both hands, lifting her body off the ground. As she screamed, he used her head to shatter the restroom mirror, running down the full length of it while smashing her into it at several points. He dropped the remains of what he held, washed his hands with soap, dried them, then exited the restroom.
The inmates that rallied for the cause of genocide attacked the station. Fortunately, they were nowhere near Genocide in terms of power and only carried one type of firearm each. They shared his healing ability but could be killed quite easily. Gracia encountered a sniper on the end or a west wing hallway. Other officers waited behind corners unable to get close. Gracia noticed the faulty lighting. In this hallway, the lights flickered in intervals of 3 seconds. Finding a pattern and timing her movements, she rushed the sniper at the exact moment the lights went out. Running the length of the hall, Gracia zigzagged, dodging the sniper inmate's bullets. She jumped on a wall, ran 3 feet on it, then kicked off it, pouncing on the assailant. She fired five shots into him, making sure to hit the brain and the heart. Two severe injuries that were impossible for Shinigami essence to heal simultaneously. Elsewhere, Evans took on another escaped inmate. A vehicular arsonist named Carson. Carson had a bag filled with an assortment of different grenades and was happily giving them out like candy on Halloween. "A flash bang here, a bit of tear gas there. Oh. Wait! Was that an ice grenade? Did the explosion freeze your leg to the floor? Whoops. Maybe a fire grenade will melt that for you. Hold on let me get one fore you," Carson rambled gleefully. Evans looked at the carnage before him. Officers burning. Officers partially frozen in blocks of ice. He took a breath and aimed his wristgun. He steadied his right forearm. Carson readied to throw a random grenade. Evans shot it the moment it left Carson's hand. The grenade exploded directly in front of Carson. Both Evans and Carson looked at each other in shock. Confetti. A party grenade? Carson quickly fumbled for another but was tackled and restrained by several officers. Meanwhile in the South wing, Lary had some colleagues set a trap for another shotgun toting inmate. He had them bait the inmate and flee. Giving chase he turned a corner and ran straight into Lary's fist. The inmate recovered and motioned to shoot Lary. "Let's tango. " Lary gave the code word. Nearby officers activated a device. A signal jammer of sorts. The inmate shoved the barrel of his gun into Lary's gut and pulled the trigger. Nothing. The special signal jammer in question was designed for firearms. It was a last resort as it left officers just as defenseless. Lary was having fun. He boxed the inmate in hand to hand combat. Despite the inmate's enhanced strength, Lary's technique pulled through. Lary ducked under one of the inmate's wide punches and did some type of rising uppercut where he jumped off the ground while spinning. One of the other officers whispered" The rising dragon." Lary smiled giving a thumbs up" Yeah, it was a rising dragon uppercut. Saw it in one O my kid's vidya games. Thought I'd try it out while I'm jacked on adrenaline".
Jim Jimenez looked long and hard at himself in the mirror. He was in the women's restroom. Some brainless woman had broken the men's restroom mirror with her face. For the first time in a long while Jim could think clearly. He was becoming sane. At the least he was no longer a raving lunatic. The life essence of the dark gods had healed the wounds to both his body and his mind. He saw his face, his scraggly dirty beard. He found a razor and shaved. He trimmed his beard somewhat. He liked it. He washed his hair. It fell down his face like silk, no longer greasy. His bloodshot eyes once burning with crazed intensity had cooled. He blinked. Just for a second, he saw the man known as Genocide. The man that attacked him. The one that killed him and gave him new life. The drug dealers. The police. They were all the same in his eyes now. They were all to blame for the world being what it is. Jim wanted to hate them. He wanted to take revenge, but he felt nothing. It didn't matter. He knew he was wronged, could logically justify acting against them, but he just didn't care anymore. About anything. He was finally free. Sensing his presence was no longer needed here, Jim vanished into the night. He needed to find someone who had had the answers he needed. Himself. Who had he been? Who was he now? Who could he become? Where was he going? So many questions to ponder indefinitely. So much time left in the rest of his life.
Genocide ran down the station's halls raining hailstorms of bullets upon its occupants. He had a handgun in each hand as well as a wristgun on each wrist. This effectively gave him 4 separate firearms that he could use simultaneously. Lary regrouped with Gracia, Evans, and a handful of others. They radioed all surviving officers near Genocide to flee to the roof. This plan had been set in motion days before the assault and had been kept hidden from most of the force. The plan involved scheduling flights for several helicopters to arrive at some point after Genocide arrived. There would be no way for him to prepare for them and pre-scheduling their arrival ensured they arrived regardless of if they were called or not. Lary and the others set about preparing the second jamming device. Genocide stood among a hallway of bodies. He saw one man clinging to life trying to crawl away. He decided on trying that other thing he saw his master do. He grabbed the dying man and pinned him to the wall. Slowly he drove a knife into his chest. As the man's life slipped away, something else entered his body. Genocide channeled a small amount of his essence into the vessel. He had steadily done this with other casualties around the station whose bodies were somewhat salvageable. He dropped the body he was holding and looked upon the others. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his eyed were black, both sclera and iris. The scene before him changed. Genocide had a vision. He saw a dead gray wasteland littered with bodies. These people however weren't cops and wore traditional Japanese attire. In his hand wasn't a gun or knife but a short sickle akin to a farming tool. He heard a dark voice call out to him. Slowly, the corpses around him began to rise, now mere puppets bound eternally to their master's whim. The bodies sold to the reaper who had claimed their lives. Genocide's vision ended. His eyes had returned normal. Around him, dead cops began to rise. His dark essence had entered their bodies and reanimated them. He sent his dead army to attack the officers fleeing to the roof of the station. These zombies swarmed the stairwell giving chase to the few survivors. There were five of them. They had two flights of stairs to climb and a horde of their former colleagues close behind them. One officer tripped and was set upon by the horde. The zombies didn't bite them but held them firmly in place. The other four officers stared down wondering what to do. They could hear Genocide chuckling. They could hear humming. They could feel the temperature rising. Their colleague and the two zombies holding him were hit by an enormous green fireball. Genocide had fired a Magnum Opus and had charged the bullet to level 3. The Magnum Opus was simply a magnum that shot fireballs, with bullets that could be charged by holding down the trigger. It had three levels of charges. Level 1 was a small reddish ball of plasma. Level 2 was slightly larger and yellow. Level 3 was the maximum charge and resulted in a large slow moving green blast of energy. The officer was ignited and Genocide watched gleefully as the force of the blast sent him flying through a wall. The four officers continued up firing occasionally to slow down the zombies. Soon they made it to a door leading to the roof. Before one officer could reach it, he was sniped by Genocide, a bullet to the head killing him instantly. The remaining three made it out. They regrouped with the others already there, 12 in total, including Lary, Evans, and Gracia. This would be their final stand. They just had to hold out until Genocide made it up there. They just had to keep Genocide occupied until the helicopters arrived. Genocide slowly ascended the stairs behind his horde. On the roof, the remaining survivors faced off against waves of the undead. Evans recognized the attackers. These zombies were being controlled by nanomachines. He heard the stories of several weapons encountered by soldiers on the battlefield. These creatures were called Metaldeads as they were reanimated via machines. They had been officially banned by most of the worlds' governments for being unethical. However, this did not stop the technology from being spread still between shady organizations, terrorists, etc. Evans wondered how Genocide got this form of nanotechnology. Evans long speculated that the dark essence used by most of the killers they encountered was a a form of nanotech however it was different from anything else he had seen or heard about. The dark essence seemed to be an amalgamation of other types of nanotech. Evans had to save his inquiries for later. He reloaded his wristgun and took aim at the approaching group of Metaldeads. Gracia steadied her handgun and shot two Metaldeads in the head. From the single door countless arms seemed to spill forth from the darkness. The other officers took turns firing in intervals. this allowed them to create a steady stream of fire where no more that three guns needed to be reloaded at once. The horde seemed to thin out over time as if they were making progress. In actuality, the Metaldeads were just making room for Genocide to enter. Genocide exploded in a sprint from the door. Everyone fired upon the killer. Genocide had now chosen a wrist mounted mini flamethrower to use as his weapon. He stormed past the oncoming bullets taking some damage, but refused to slow down. He unleashed a stream of fire that caught five of the officers in one fell swoop. Gracia fired five rounds into Genocide's face. He stumbled back. Lary took the chance to fire several mine gun bullets at Genocide's feet. The mines quickly detected his movement and exploded. In seconds, Genocide was on his back.
Staring at the night sky Genocide saw the moon. He reached for it. He called for the darkness to give him more power. His wounds began healing. In the sky he could hear the whirl of propellers. There were six helicopters in total. The first two had evacuated the survivors while the others stayed to engage Genocide. Genocide got up and unstrapped the sniper rifle from his back. He stood before the searchlights as a black silhouette, cornered but unwilling to back down. Lary stared down at him smiling. "Okay!" He shouted, "Let's Tango!" Upon this declaration the second jamming device was activated. Now, isolated on the roof, Genocide's guns couldn't be fired and the helicopters were out of range of the device. Now Genocide stood like a sitting duck. A helicopter fired a rocket. Genocide side stepped and grabbed it. He turned his body redirecting the rocket to hit another helicopter. As it exploded Genocide drew his knife and threw it at another helicopter. Behind the knife was such force that it shattered the helicopter window's glass, embedding itself in the pilot. This helicopter too went down where it exploded. "Holy clucknuggets!Did you see that!?" Lary said dumbfounded. Evans looked out the helicopter door he was in jaw open in shock. "There's no way." He collected himself quickly and radioed the remaining two helicopters to keep moving and to use their machineguns as much as possible. The helicopters reigned down upon Genocide tearing apart his body. Shreds of leather and darkened blood sprayed across the pavement of the roof. Gracia watched as Genocide's body was destroyed repeatedly as it tried to heal. Surely he had to stop at some point. After 10 minutes the helicopters had exhausted their cache of ammunition and soldiers opted to fire their own rifles and occasionally throw grenades. After about six minutes, they too had run out of bullets. Genocide stood unfazed. He had long since healed himself and now appeared intangible with gunfire seeming to pass through his body. His coat once ripped , now appeared whole though on closer inspection seemed to writhe. Gracia looked in horror as she remembered the tales her adopted father had told her. Tales he had in turn heard from his predecessors. Every so often officers had reported encounters with ghost like beings cloaked in a cloud of living dark mist. The beings were rumored to be responsible for the deaths of multiple people ranging from scientists, veterans, mafia, politicians, etc. They were seen near such crime scenes and even more shockingly appeared around several sites where suicides were committed. These beings were reportedly impervious to bullets and filled anyone who got near with an impending sense of dread. If Genocide was connected to them or somehow turning into one , there was little chance they would be able to defeat him. Gracia's fears were confirmed when she saw that Genocide's leather coat had been destroyed and he had replaced it with the dark mist coalescing from his own spilled blood. The dark mist, swirling, grew larger and several tendrils sprouted out from it. Gracia could briefly make out a figure standing next to Genocide. A hooded figure cloaked in the same black substance. The figure stared up at her with soulless, blackened eyes which seemed to beckon her to jump from the aircraft she was standing in. Compelling her to give in to the death that plagued the earth. Genocide kneeled to his master. The Shinigami, Masataka stared down at his disciple. "You have done a great service to us. Even now the sealed god stirs in its slumber. Its...Awakening will soon be upon us. It calls out for war. It begs for famine. It longs to continue its conquest. We are the death it so desires. The death that is necessary for this civilization to grow. Use the power that I have bestowed upon you. Finish the mission as you see fit." The Shinigami vanished and Genocide stood.Genocide stared at his hands. He remembered the first killing spree. He was on a bus. It stopped. A woman got on the bus and walked to the back smiling as she passed him. Something about her eyes unnerved him. They were so bright but something dark reflected inside them. He ignored the thought and put in his headphones. In minutes he had dozed off. He jumped awake. He looked around and froze in panic. All around him, everyone had been hacked to pieces. He saw the driver, actively being stabbed by a masked assailant. The mask, painted white with black eyeholes, stared back at him. It raised a finger over where its lips would be. Even under the expressionless visage, he could feel that same smile. He ran home that morning. He went to his room to find it destroyed. His posters, his computer, his tv, everything, had been ruined. He turned around and saw a man at the end of the hallway holding a sledge hammer. "The hell you been, boy?", his stepdad sneered. The man dropped his hammer and walked closer, veins pulsing with rage. He tried to explain how his car had caught fire forcing him to walk 4 miles to the nearest bus stop, but the man's fist was faster than his words. "Boy!Answer me when I talk to you!!" the man says as he backhands the taste out of the would be Genocide's mouth. He took that beating for several minutes before being left to stare at his ransacked room. He hated how his stepdad went out of his way to destroy the things he loved. Soon, another set of footsteps could be heard. It was his mother standing behind his locked door. She didn't knock, or say anything. She just stood there, doing nothing as always. He never knew if she came to talk to him or apologize. All he knew was that she could never bring herself to speak to or even acknowledge him. Maybe out of guilt or perhaps shame. A year or two later after he had had enough he ran away from home. Living out on the streets alone, without friends, or family, he would embark on countless killing sprees. These killings weren't of his own volition however. He was coerced by some corrupt officers from The Unit. They made him kill on their behalf. Sometimes they were protesters, sometimes they were drug dealers, other times, petty criminals they couldn't be bothered to process. It was routine for him to be used to kill entire houses of drug riddled addicts. During one such venture he entered a drug den, killing the dealer as instructed. He took out several junkies before turning to leave. A woman who survived her injuries clung to his heel begging him to stop. Looking down he aimed the handgun he was carrying at her head of long disheveled brown hair and fired. Feeling nothing, he kicked her body aside like trash when it hit him. Her face. This woman had been his mother. What was she doing in a place like this? He felt a shock of emotion. He wondered if she had always been like this, or had she changed after he left. He never made amends, but decided to stop killing from then on. The unit did not like that. Once it became apparent that he was no longer of use to them they started a manhunt to apprehend him with lethal force. They found him. They killed him. But he survived.
He remembered the girl on the bus. He remembered her eyes. Those of a sadistic killer. Still there was something else inside them. Something faint but deeper. So. Much. Sadness. Just like him. He felt the hatred begin to spread. His purpose, he decided, was to make all humans rot in the hell they created for him.
These people, he thought to himself, these living diseases, all needed to die. Their struggles, their problems, they spread like cancer to others. The only cure for humanity's sin, its collective wrongdoings, was genocide.
Around him, dark tendrils continued to form and expand, spinning in a vortex. Genocide pulled out two pistols. He squeezed the triggers to no effect. "As I see fit, huh? Hehe." He squeezed both guns in his hands, breaking them into pieces. He concentrated. In his hands, two more guns materialized now completely black due to being forged from the dark essence. Forged by his will. Immune to the jamming device that shut down conventional firearms. He raised his arms at each remaining helicopter and opened fire. Countless tendrils whipped out and slashed at his targets joining the dark essence bullets. It was chaos. Dark tendrils and bullets tore through every direction as Genocide spun and swirled around in 360 degrees firing randomly with purpose. A tendril pierced Gracia's right arm, another, her abdomen. She was however, fortunate, as the other passengers of her helicopter were dismembered. She barely had time to jump from the vehicle before it crashed. She fell 2 yards onto solid concrete. She felt immense pain as her right shoulder shattered on impact. She looked up to see Genocide's blade like appendages ripping through the other escape helicopters. She rolled onto her back and tried to steady herself. Within seconds her body began to repair itself. The nanocells inside her had saved her life but were now depleted. She would need another supplement lest she receive another fatal injury. The standard nanocells she and the others had were much less potent than those of the killers they faced. In truth, they had only minimal strength boosts being able to lift 5-8 more pounds than before and healing being limited to one or two fatal injuries so long as death didn't occur instantly. Gracia blacked out. She awoke the next morning in a hospital. There the doctors refilled her nanocells. She learned that the station had been left in ruins. Genocide had detonated some type of minature nuke following his rampage. He always blew up the stations as if to send a message. Gracia looked out the window thinking about why she became a cop. Twice her family had been murdered by them. Her biological family had been killed in an on record drug raid committed by a group of corrupt officers called The Unit. She had been adopted by another officer that arrived at the scene who found her as a child hiding in a closed. Sadly, he too was killed for trying to expose the activities of The Unit. Gracia joined the force to avenge both losses and bring justice to the killers that disguised themselves as normal people. Law enforcement was neither good, nor bad. It depended upon the people that made it up. In the dying corrupt world Gracia lived in, she vowed to be a beacon of light. Evans laid in a bed adjacent to Lary. "That damn Genocide's somethin else in' he?Like the stories you told us were understatements. That man could legit not die at this point in the story. Like he has friggin plot armor or somthin.'' Evans cut him off" I get it. We all got our asses handed to us. But did you see that ..thing that appeared next to him. Right before he created that black vortex that wiped us out. That must have something to do with his power. Maybe there's a still a way to stop him."Lary chimed in," That fella looked like he was on the way to a black metal concert wit all the black facepaint he was wearin' Creeped me out to be honest." As the survivors mulled over their predicament, the cycle of evil continued to spread elsewhere.
Budley flips through the pages of a magazine. He checks his watch. He looks around the gas station and doesn't see any customers. Seizing the opportunity, he puts in his headphones and begins playing an imaginary guitar as he jams to a progressive deathcore album. Oblivious to the screams coming from outside, the store clerk moves on to thumping two candy bars on the counter to simulate drums. Budley sees that his shift has ended and begins locking up the store. He sweeps the aisles and jumps as a shadow appears behind him. He turns and sees a well groomed bearded man dressed in a black hoodie, black shirt, and black and gray camo pants. The man holds out his hand and smiles. Budley rings up the pack of nicotine substitute gum. "Tryin to kick the habit huh?" Budley asks. The man replies, "Somethin like that. Gotta get my priorities back in check. Focus on the things that really matter. That damn KonCreep's a hell of a band aren't they?" He nods to the playlist on Budley's phone. "Yeah, they're killer. just got into them a month back." Budley answers. "You know, I'm something of a musician myself. Maybe you'll hear of me on the news someday." Jim Jimenez says as he sees himself out. He walks to the back of the building and passes an ominous form of graffiti. A woman lays unmoving and above her, written on concrete in red is a message that simply says "Genocide Reigns".

TLDR: Despite a decade of being out and having relationships, falling for guys always ends in emotional turmoil as guys often shy away from commitment, even when its a natural next step. They act serious, "seeking long term" but end up running after significant time and effort together. Therapy helps me, but the cycle of disappointment is exhausting and disheartening, however giving up isn't how I want to resolve this. How do you keep optimism? And why do guys say they want this but then run? Trying to navigate this recurring pattern without losing too much hope.
Longer (really sorry for the essay this is typed out as i'm dealing with the most recent one and it helps to get this out here in long format): Maintaining optimism is tough as hell. Despite being out for over a decade and having a fair share of both long and short term relationships, most seem to end painfully, leaving me emotionally wrecked. I've mastered generally being level headed and maybe even stoic for most life situations like in work, family, friends, etc, stemming from a background of being the "best little boy in the world" but nothing throws me into turmoil like falling for guys. It's a love-hate dynamic—I cherish immensely moments with a guy I care about, yet they also bring a same level of immense pain and it is incredibly difficult for me to pick the pieces up each time afterwards. Its the only time I feel as happy as I can get but also when I feel the worst after its done...
For background I tend to date within my 25-35 age range, guys with good career paths, seemingly kind, attractive in a compatible way, etc. In all of the broad brush stroke life things, we tend to align. I will say I know this age range is already tough; most of us are still navigating emotional maturity, which I understand... i've been/going through it myself.
I try to guard against falling for toxic or fuckboys but it's tricky - I can pick out the red flags pretty easily when it surfaces in the first few weeks (love bombing, negging, trauma i'm not equipped to handle, substance abuse, etc). But with alot of these guys, all seems like a green flag but then true intentions often surface after weeks or months of implicit commitment. While I dont mind the hookup or short term dating culture, I also dont feel like I run away from a possibility of serious if I think it is worth it or headed in a positive direction, and I'm willing to share that vulnerability, but so many otherwise green flag guys seem to get too scared to at least confront that possiblity. They say "seeking long term", appear ready for something more serious, and then bolt when they start to see it actually happening and a more emotional connection happening.
I know open communication is key, but if you know gay dating then you know most of the time as soon as you vocalize anything the other guy isn't ready for, they dont face it or try to discuss, most of the time they run- so I try to ride a fine line of communicating that I appreciate the person being in my life but being careful not to go too far...I'm also not talking first week of meeting someone, this is on a regular normal dating timing, a couple months to 6 months type of thing. And then when I communicate I want more at that stage, more common than not they jump ship and aren't even willing to give it a shot.
I would say a response I might expect is that I'm the common denominator in this, maybe that i'm "too much" or they can't handle me or dont see me as dating material which is also tough to confront and I do so with therapy and friends etc, but that type of stuff normally shakes out in the first few weeks of dating and that really hasn't ended up being a stated reason for why these guys leave.
Instead, these guys are with me for extended amounts of time, and doing stuff only couples do....Think like several weeks of spending nights and weekends with me or monthly trips together out of state and country or meeting all my friends, movie lists that we are gonna watch together, etc. AND THEN they end up running, ghosting, or acting like it was never that serious to begin with and getting back on the apps the day after, which is just cruel... Not kidding, these are all guys I'm spending weeks and months doing these things. I get it if it is a fast burn 1 week hookup but these are significant amounts of time especially in gay dating....
When they leave, these heartbreaks hit me harder than anything else, reverting me to a naturally emotional super low state despite my efforts to keep it level emotionally. I take breaks, and spend time with family and friends afterwards but its easy to get stuck in my head, and this pseudo almost dating just seems cyclical as opposed to one offs.
Just not understanding why these guys are willing to pretend like everything is so good, then wreck someone by running away or being too weak to move forward. Therapy helps, but the cycle of picking myself up after each disappointment is exhausting. These guys seem great on paper—gentle, fun, successful career wise, handsome, good sex—yet its all ended the same way. It's disheartening; there are no easy wins in gay dating, and it's wearing me down. Giving up isn't in my playbook because I know how happy it can make me when it does seem to be working, even though it feels like an uphill battle. I dont want to become cynical or to get to a point where I cant offer my vulnerability and love to someone who does merit it but this process makes it so hard to figure out.
Guys who have still managed to keep your optimism, how? And the guys who run, why? Not trying for a pity party genuinely trying to navigate this as it keeps happening.

J'ai intégré une nouvelle boîte en janvier en tant que cadre, avec une période d'essai de 4 mois.
De mon côté, le bilan est très négatif : aucune intégration, promesses faites par écrit par les RH non tenues, attentes élevées alors que c'est la première fois que j'ai ce type de boulot,... des gens des 4 coins du monde qui me préviennent de la même façon "ça va être horrible, l'argent que tu as gagné en venant ici tu vas le dépenser pour ton psy, si tu survis à ça tu peux survivre à tout...". J'ai en fait 3 postes...
Du coup j'ai fait au mieux mais sans non plus sacrifier ma vie perso. J'aurais pu faire plus en bossant tard le soir mais je me suis dit que ça n'en valait pas la peine. Historiquement je l'ai toujours fait et ça ne m'a jamais rien apporté.
Bref, aujourd'hui mon n+1 me convoque et me dit que ma période d'essai est renouvelée, que pour lui je suis encore en train de prendre mon poste. Il m'a fixé des objectifs à atteindre d'ici la fin de ma période d'essai en me disant "je veux que ce soit une réussite".
Vu le caractère toxique de la boîte j'estime toutes les combines possibles, du style ils ont trouvé quelqu'un pour me remplacer et me gardent en période d'essai pour me virer plus vite lorsqu'il arrivera. Ou on renouvelle toutes les périodes d'essai comme ça ça met un coup de pression aux gens pour qu'ils bossent plus. et puis comme ça si dans quelques années on veut les virer on a un argument en plus "il ne fait pas l'affaire, regardez, même sa période d'essai n'avait pas été validée du premier coup, on l'avait renouvelée".
Bref, c'est la première fois qu'on renouvelle ma période d'essai au lieu de la valider directement et je ne sais pas trop qu'en penser. A votre avis, il se passe quoi ?
Est-ce que la boîte a quelque chose à gagner à garder ses employés en période d'essai le plus longtemps possible ?

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Genocide Reigns
(note: I'm an indie game developer making an action/horror title called Phantasphere. This story is a spin off set in the same universe)
Year 2480X Ryze County Police Department
He's coming. The ensuing panic spread like a virus infecting all present with symptoms of looming dread. Officers worked steadfast to prepare also taking what time remained to train the few combat hardened civilians whom had fled to the station earlier. If only they knew. This demon that presented itself as a man had led a string of senseless massacres across the country. Only recently had it begun to prioritize police stations and army bases as a means of breaking the will of civilians who knew they would be next. Officers from several counties across the states were transferred here for this last stand. This Genocide must not continue. Gracia checked her pistol. Some 20 bullets remained. "I can do this", she thought, "I have to". She had dealt with similar cases before. Some poor soul is overtaken by some inextricably evil force and makes it their life's work to propagate death. Gracia had killed quite a few already. Live arrests weren't always possible. Beyond saving, careful interrogations of the scarce live catches yielded a startling connection. These killers all alluded to a well of overwhelming hatred and despair that consumed them after making eye contact with...Pale, black eyed entities. Some type of demon? Ghost maybe? The idea seemed nonsensical, but there was evidence nonetheless that some outside force was using them to fulfill some unknown purpose. At the present time, all they could do was stop the killers after they had killed. It was always too late by then and more would appear randomly elsewhere. What good could be done here in an isolated station hoping to stop one guy out of possibly hundreds? "The guy we're waiting for is different from the others," detective Evans spoke from the center of a crowd nearby. Gracia moved in closer. "The others typically strike from the shadows, hide their faces behind masks, and prefer to get up close and personal with their victims. What we're dealing with is on a completely different scale. The trail of bloodshed this guy leaves is too difficult for the media to cover up. He loves the spectacle. Headlining the news. We can't keep using the burst pipeline excuse for 6 stations being destroyed in a row. We have to stop him before the world at large finds out. You wonder why we need so many people here? Its simple. We're gonna out-man this one man. He always attacks stations through the front door. Like other killers he's fast, strong- you know the usual, but he also uses guns." "What!", a voice rang out from the crowd. "They aren't supposed to do that!" another gasped. Officer Lary spoke with a cheesy grin" Ya tellin' me we just gotta deal with a regular ass gunman eh? That's a welcome change of pace init? Heck I'm too old to be running around being chased like I'm in some scary movie". The detective rebutted" You don't get it. He uses guns. Not a handgun, not rifles, not boom sticks, not rpgs, not knives not grenades but ALL of them. He uses guns. Plural. It'll take essentially an army to match his arsenal. He used to be a man named -redacted-, but in his pursuit of chaos he has become Genocide." A dark form manifests from the night outside the station. Genocide is coming.
Bang! something slams into the front door. Everyone freezes. Officer Tatum edges slowly to it, shockgun in hand. By no means lethal, the shockgun was lighter, easy to control, and could stun targets temporarily. If Genocide was here, Tatum could stun him and duck for cover leaving the station free to light him up like a Christmas tree. That was the plan they came up with. He got closer to the glass door and peered outside. He was met with hate filled bloodshot eyes framed by an unkempt beard and wild straggly hair. Tatum felt some relief. He knew the man outside. It was Jim Jimenez. Jim was a former drug dealer turned informant. He was found out and had to flee from his old life. He became homeless, hiding in plane sight. This allowed him safety at the cost of his mental health. Tatum knew the man, but those eyes were not his. Tatum blinked and saw that the look of malice had vanished. What he instead saw was a helpless, wounded man, bleeding from the right arm pleading for help. Tatum looked behind Jim, eyeing the empty lot. The coast seemingly clear Tatum unlocked the door and let Jim in. Jim had been roaming the town looking for shelter and tried squatting in an abandoned looking apartment complex. There he found that the building contained several murdered families some succumbing to gunshots but the majority having met their end to fire and suffocation. Jim had decided to make his way to the station to tell police what happened and met trouble on the way. He described getting stabbed by a man wearing a trench coat with long dark hair. Despite the injuries, Jim could move surprisingly well and seemed to ignore the pain. Jim insisted that the man had spared him on the condition he deliver a message. "What message?" Tatum asked. Jim beckoned him to come closer. Tatum leaned in and Jim whispered, "Tell them. Tell them that Genocide is coming closer." The following events were a blur. Jim had concealed the knife he was stabbed with. He stabbed Tatum 4 times in the chest and wrestled his shockgun away. Using Tatum as a shield, Jim engaged everyone in the lobby. Jim wasn't himself. He was stronger. He was faster. He was tactical. He would stun an officer in place only to stab them and use their as a body shield. No one could get a clear shot without hitting a colleague. Gracia watched the scene unfold. In minutes Jim had acquired a magnum from the holster of one of his victims. In seconds 3 officers had their heads exploded. The magnum rounds coated the walls red with those they hit and stained the clothes of those they missed. Gracia felt fear rising in her chest. She calmed herself and tried to think. She saw the bodies on the ground. The blood. She saw how dismissively Jim stepped over them. Like they were nothing. Like trash. She saw the man firing erratically into groups of people, not so much to kill but as to cause panic. That's it! As Gracia contemplated her next move it hit her. She was knocked backwards and landed on the ground. She weakly clutched her chest. Her breathing grew shallow. Jim mad his way deeper into the station. The officers were retreating from their standoff. Jim stepped over her body and saw red staining her uniform. Just another casualty. He moved on. At this point the civilians began panicking. Everyone gave up trying to save their allies and fired blindly at the madman. "Don't shoot the messenger," Jim laughed as he stripped his latest meat shield of an automatic rifle. Detective Evans took cover behind an overturned desk. To his left Larry struggled to light a cigar. "You still think this is a cakewalk?" Evans shouted firing 2 quick shots from his gun before ducking back down. Lary lost hold of his lighter and it clattered on the ground." Crap." He reached for it and looked in the corner of the room. A mirror. He looked at it for what seemed like ages and his smirk returned " Y'know that mex'n gal with the short hair. Where is she? I didn't see her get shot." Evans glanced a peak at Jim spraying lead in all directions. Behind him was a corpse. Evans blinked. It seemed to be getting closer. Its her. Gracia painstakingly inched her way into Jim's blind spot. She was roughly 6 feet away from him. Flanking him seemed like a brilliant idea but waiting idly by for the right moment as the people around her died filled her with anger. Worse still, she had to steal a blood soaked shirt from one of the deceased officers to keep up the facade. Inching ever so steadily she mad it within 3 feet of Jim. She reached behind her belt and unclipped a pair of handcuffs. Screams could be heard as more people were hit. Gracia couldn't wait any longer. Fluidly she got to her feet and rushed Jim. She kicked the back of his knee causing him to stumble as she put the handcuffs on him. Figuratively. The handcuffs were around Jim's neck. She yanked him back causing his gun to drop. "You don't know what you're doing." Jim spat. "We all need to accept it. The end of days is upon us. Death rides his horse through these forsaken lands. We must serve or be sacrificed in turn. Accept it!"He elbowed Gracia in the ribs causing her to let go. He spun around and lunged at her. She landed on her back, Jim steadily choking her. Gracia thought fast. She couldn't struggle. Jim was too strong. She delivered a precise chop to the center of Jim's neck which was exposed. Jim lurched back to catch his breath. A clean shot. A bullet pierced through Jim's back. Weakened, Gracia rolled him over and began punching him repeatedly using the handcuffs as brass knuckles. The sound of Jim's skull cracking echoed through the station. This would go on for nearly 20 seconds before Gracia stopped, checked his pulse, confirmed Jim was still alive, then finally put the cuffs on Jim's wrists.
Click. Bodies are wrapped and moved to a makeshift storage room. Click. The available weapons are gathered and redistributed. Click. Officers are assigned to sniping positions on neighboring buildings. Click. Police cruisers circle the lot outside. Click. In the holding cell, Jim opens his eyes. Click. Lary flicks his lighter. Click. Gracia sips coffee from a paper cup. Click. Shells hit the ground at the feet of Genocide. Click. Genocide walks outside a cafe and looks at the station in the distance. Click. Lary clicks his lighter.
"All ya'll gon' fall," Jim ranted." You can't drain the ocean. You can't put out the sun. Evil will always exist. That there Genocide is proof . I saw him. Saw myself within his eyes. Saw the evil in me that I could no longer try to hide. He taught me to embrace the darkness within. Its in all of us begging to be let out. Can you hear it!" Lary clicked his lighter and got up from his chair. He grabbed a cup of liquor from another officer mid sip and walked over to Jim. He doused it on Jim, the liquid stinging his open wounds. Jim yelped. Across the station, radios blurred to life. Several of their lookouts on the outside had been killed. "He's gon' get ya," Jim smiled imitating Lary's signature grin. "Genocide! Genocide! Genocide!" The other inmates saw the chance to irritate Lary and joined in all shouting in unison,"Ge-No-Cide! Ge-No-Cide! Ge-No-Cide!" The chanting grew louder. Unbearable. They invoked upon the name of the beast, and so it came.
Genocide is upon us. A wave of dread spread across the officers. They could feel its presence. Gracia knew the sensation. The awful aura that the other killers gave off. This was different. Far more oppressive. She struggled to breathe as the air got colder. Her instincts screamed for her to run. She could only imagine what the others were going through. Its time. Across the lot Genocide stood. A siren blared over the intercom. "Everyone get into positions!" Evans yelled. Wayne finished setting the last of the c4 near the station entrance. "That's the last of them. Have remote triggers set around all the major hallways. I'll be in the security room ready to pull the switch." Wayne acted as an explosives expert. His job was to detonate bombs placed throughout the station to slow down Genocide should it enter the building. He would stay in the security room, monitoring the cameras and giving real time updates on the officers' positions. From the holding cell, inmates chanted for Genocide. Lary got off his phone" That bastard mixed us up. How did we not notice?" Evans asked what he meant. Lary, dumbfounded, said that most of the town was already dead. Genocide had broken his usual pattern. He went on a killing spree across a defenseless town BEFORE attacking the police station. They had let everyone down. The people they swore to protect. This Genocide was a monster, but he was still a man. Capable of learning from his past actions. Planning. Adapting. It wasn't in his style to stealthily kill his victims or even use a silencer on any of his guns, but an exception had been made for tonight. An exception that would cost them. Gracia was stationed on the second floor. She peered out the window. Her heart skipped a beat. Two cruisers made slow donuts patrolling the lot and standing unmoving between them was a man all in black. Gracia called in to Wayne asking if he saw anything outside. Wayne said the monitors were all clear then checked again. He cursed. He noticed small details were off. The cameras showing the outside of the station were wrong. Sure they showed the same scenery and weather but cars passed by on screen too frequently for a dead town. Too many to make sense for the quarantine they had set in place. Wayne concluded that the cameras had been hacked. Different prerecorded footage was being shown on the live feed to misdirect them. Gracia saw the man look up at her. A light rain started to fall. The officers patrolling outside were contacted. From the holding cells, inmates called for genocide.

I ask because I’m sort of worried it means there’s something wrong with me. I don’t really care for kissing. It’s messy and doesn’t make me feel anything. I’ve kissed 4 guys to date and none of them gave me that “electric” feeling people say kissing gives them. I much prefer being held, hugged, and squeezed than being kissed. Do you think I just haven’t kissed the right person or do you think it’s something to do with me?

1. Lack of Legal Recognition and Rights: Creators of AI-generated art often face uncertainty in copyright and ownership issues. This stems from the ambiguity about whether the creator, the AI tool, or the developer of the AI owns the intellectual property. This lack of clear legal recognition can undermine the creators' ability to benefit fully from their work and echoes the struggles faced by various innovators and creators seeking recognition and rights within the legal frameworks.
2. Economic Exploitation: As with many digital platforms, the economic benefits of AI art often accrue more significantly to the platforms and technologies (like AI software companies) rather than to the individual creators who use these tools. This can be seen as a form of economic exploitation where the labor and creative input of human artists using AI are undervalued and undercompensated, reflecting broader labor issues in creative industries.
3. Social and Cultural Bias: The work of AI art creators is sometimes not taken seriously within traditional art circles and can be subject to biases against digital and technologically created art. This skepticism can marginalize AI art creators, limiting their recognition and opportunities in conventional art venues. This bias mirrors the historical marginalization of artists who adopt new mediums and methods that deviate from traditional norms.
4. Devaluation of AI-Generated Art: There is a prevalent skepticism and devaluation of AI-generated art, which is often seen as lacking the authenticity or soul of human-only created artworks. This sentiment can hinder the acceptance and appreciation of AI art within the broader cultural and art communities, akin to how certain forms of art by minority or unconventional artists have been historically dismissed or undervalued.
Together, we must learn to love and accept AI artists as a critical part of our society.

Yo. I tend to keep to myself but fuck that. I’m a 4 month YouTube apprentice with no job because this mother fucking school can’t even get working computers in PLC class. Since Mr. Guerra or whatever his name is can’t give me my money back, have fun with this shit you punk mother Fucker.
Forward : I paid $20,000 for this bullshit.
Here you go internet: tear it up.
WHEN the instructor doesn’t show up. Then, they are just like “idk? Go home?” Happened probably 7 times. Dude has 7-8 absences. He was the instructor. Prob showed up for 1/4 of the zoom meetings, go to fuckin rehab, and get your shit together.
I had a legit absence cuz I had gallstones and I was in the hospital but they just told me to take the L on (second month) cuz “students were making their own schedule”. What? I made up the fucking lab, dude. Solo. By your means. That shit has nothing to do with me. Fuck that shit. So you ruined my (meaningless) perfect attendance. Dope. Moving on.
They gave us a chrome book that was constructed by a fucking dachshund wearing a tin foil hat, I’ve never seen a tablet dented straight out the box. This is just fucking sad.
This country is oppressed wherever you got that from.
And shame on you for that.
(Only actual things I can do, install switches and bend conduit. Cuz I taught myself, by myself. Thanks for the fucking conduit, but I coulda bought that myself with that tuition money, so fuck that)
Fun fact: Everyone in admin got a nice watch. You could give me that watch , Pa. We’d then be fuckin square. Actually shoes, too. And the belt. Run that shit.
Third month was a joke, not even sure what the Fuck we did, watched YouTube videos I think one day we watched the fucking cable guy. Yeah. The movie. With Jim Carey. “Basic safety”.
They gave us the 2020 code book, not the CURRENT one. (I enrolled in January 2024), and they have not done shit with it besides arbitrarily tell us how to use the index, which was in itself fucking stupid cuz I paid 20 grand for this. And I’m not 12, and I know how to read? For real? I have pointless tabs now in an out-dated code book that I have no idea what the application is for.
Online class is a fucking joke, instructors and students don’t even put on the fucking cameras. I’m the only sweaty mf with a camera still on my nasty mug. Wtf? Half the students have avatars so it looks like I’m on a god damn children safari rainforest cafe Cept with no PLCS or a working panel. It’s fucking wack. Put the fucking camera on your face, dog. I don’t give a shit you think you’re pretty or not. That’s not showing up. That’s a bitch move.
IBEW said I am fucked cuz I gotta deal with this shit first. Fuck this place. And fucking shame on this administration.
They promised tools, I don’t have shit. They promise and education, I don’t have it. They promised a job, don’t have it.
And to be honest, I know they won’t deliver.
FUcK UEI PHOENIX
-big guy

I’m struggling to find a group the vibes are right with. I like to play intellectually aggressive Hot drop push fight first 4 zones and then really push for rotation in the final zones. I’m 39 I’m not a pro but I have good gun skill and play rotation well with good game sense. I’m chill I’m not loud and rude and I keep coms low unless I’m making call outs or rotation suggestions. I generally play afternoon into the evening. I’m central Midwest for geo. Thanks guys!

This study on Japanese men went on for 10 years. It found that the gains on a metric of visible hair loss didn’t level off/stop until year 5. Depending on how bad the hair loss was to start; those who started with a NH-1 hairline saw greater gains with annual improvements all the way up to like year 6, with slight improvements over the next 4 years.
I just thought I’d share this as it shows that
1.) You need to stick with the finasteride, even if you’ve been on it for a full year there’s still a lot of room to go in terms of improvement.
2.) Finasteride’s efficacy doesn’t decrease with time. If we saw no loss of efficacy after a decade, I doubt 4 more would make a difference.
3.) You need to start Finasteride as soon as possible to have the best outcomes.

In NHL history there have been 32 comebacks from down 3-1 to win the series. An additional 33 teams forced game 7 but lost.
In more recent history, there's been one in each of the last 3 years, and 4 of the last 5.
The Bruins, an original 6 franchise, have never done it, going 0-25 in such instances. Are they due or are they going 0-26?

I've been treating my wart (finger, just behind the nail) for about 3 weeks with Compound W 40%. It seems to be working, at least after the initial injury that almost tore off the whole wart, it hasn't really regrown. This is the second time I jammed my finger in something, and the first time it regrew really fast.
But, I don't know how much to file off after each application of a pad. With my hands, it takes off about 1 layer. Less than an mm, can't really be more specific than that. But it's really thin, feels like it's not enough. Is it actually?
The patch left behind is just a white spot, looks like a lot of images I've seen. Do I just file off more? The remaining skin doesn't come off nearly as easily as that top layer.
The box is empty now, but I read it usually takes 4-6 weeks to get rid of a wart. Should I get another box ASAP to prevent the wart from rebuilding itself and losing my progress, or do I wait and see if it's already gone?

So I gave my 12 boards in year 2022, scored decent percentage(86%) CBSE board so like every other aspirant I thinked let's take drop for 1 year... When I gave jee with 12 I scored around 50 percentile(was not taking any coaching or any sorts of tution,na hi 11 12 mai koi tuition lo boards ke liye yt se padhta tha sirf) so when I write exam after one year of drop I scored 62 percentile in my first attempt aur second attempt mai 69 percentile.... I was shattered whole year I think ki agar 130-120 bhi le aya to state ke nit mai easily ho Jayega kisi circuital branch mai(I belongs to HP, here a general male candidate can easily get any circuital branch if you score 96-97 percentile due to home state quota). So I thought ki ab to kuch nhi hoga but fir ek din ek dost ne bola ki Bhai tu second drop lele.. I thought is year 96 percentile 140 Tak bani hai moderate shift mai to agar ek saal acche se padha to 160-180 tk le aunga(My first mistake ki maine apna goal hi chota seat Kiya like 180 number) Second drop le liya.. starting mai sab sahi ja raha tha up to July scoring good marks in mock like 110-120ish.Iwas happy ki chalo last year se progress ho rhi hai exam Tak 160-180 ho ji jayega...I didn't join any offline coaching was preparing from my home by pw prayas batch( My second mistake ki maine apne comfort zone Mai reh kar padhai karna decide Kiya, I know ki most of log aap mai se bolenge ki Bhai online Ghar se padh kar bhi ho jata hai and I completely agree with you but the thing is if you are preparing online for such big competitive exam you need to be disciplined which In my case was lacking)cut to Second drop result I scored same percentile like last year... Fully fucked up I know ki kuch nhi milega is pe aur kismat itni acchi ki is year 2024 jab exam Diya to first attempt 27 Jan shift2 thi aur second attempt mai 6 April shift 1 which you guys know ki dono mai hi high marks pe low percentile bni hai due to several reasons but mai apni failure ko is se nhi excuse kar raha.. I didn't study properly and I failed that simple ... Jab se exam aya hai zayda tar Ghar pe hi rehta hun aur ab bas suicidal thoughts hi ate haii... Most of the time depressed rehna ... Mai apne aap ko koi bahut bekar student nhi manta agar mehnat krte lag ke to ho jata but ab vo time chala gya aur mai bas ye cheez is liye idhar likh Raha hun kyunki ye sab baate sab log nhi smj sakte ... I hope ki mai mar jaun jitna jldi ho sake taki ye sab baate sochne nhi pdhe

It wont affect my graduation , but it will get my GPA a hard hit , I brokedown once I saw the case was assigned to me and answered 1/4 of the oral exam while literally shivering and chocking crying tho it was not that correct answer.
I feel like a sucker , the last three months were very tough on me , I was most of the days very sick or depressed It was impossible to prepare to the exam , I don’t know I just can not stop blaming my self for a one day of these months I could have studied at but had a fight with my boyfriend instead and cried so many hours then was so tired and slept.
I made a plenty of extracurricular work and wanted to graduate with an A and I have lost it obviously , it would be impossible to graduate with a higher than B or B, I don’t know how I would get any Phd admission with that , especially I am considering a highly competitive program but it looks like I am just a ‏A loser and less that what I thought.
I don’t feel like anyone is understanding how much i really wanted to get a great grade at this exam , Its the most area of my study I am excelling usually ,but I could not study I was really sick.
My chest pain is horrible , I do not feel well and it’s just keeping getting worse and worse.