Defence Career Guidance in Maharashtra

Introduction

In the vast expanse of Maharashtra, where the spirit of valor echoes through the annals of history, one institution stands as a beacon of guidance and inspiration for those aspiring to serve their nation: Major Kulthe Defence Education Institute (MKDEI). Nestled amidst the cultural tapestry of Maharashtra, this esteemed institute emerges as a bastion of excellence in the realm of Defence Career Guidance in Maharashtra , shaping the futures of countless individuals with its unwavering commitment to mentorship and empowerment.
Major Kulthe Defence Education Institute (MKDEI):
As the sun rises over the horizon, casting its golden rays upon the sprawling landscapes of Maharashtra, aspirants from every corner of the state turn to MKDEI for guidance on their journey towards a career in defence. Founded with a vision to nurture the next generation of leaders and defenders of the nation, MKDEI has earned a reputation as the epitome of excellence in defence career guidance. With a team of seasoned professionals and a comprehensive curriculum designed to empower and enlighten, MKDEI stands at the forefront of shaping the future of Maharashtra's defence forces.
Empowering Dreams:
At the heart of MKDEI mission lies a commitment to empowering dreams and nurturing talent. Unlike traditional educational institutions that focus solely on academic achievement, MKDEI takes a holistic approach to career guidance, offering a wide range of programs and services tailored to meet the unique needs of each aspirant. From aptitude tests and career counseling sessions to physical fitness training and mock interviews, MKDEI equips its students with the skills, knowledge, and confidence they need to excel in the competitive world of defence.
Comprehensive Curriculum:
MKDEI's comprehensive curriculum is designed to provide aspirants with a 360-degree view of the defence sector, covering everything from the history and traditions of the armed forces to the latest advancements in military technology and strategy. With a focus on experiential learning and real-world applications, MKDEI ensures that its students are well-prepared to face the challenges of a career in defence with confidence and competence.
Mentorship and Guidance:
One of the hallmarks of MKDEI is its emphasis on mentorship and guidance. From experienced faculty members who have served in the armed forces to guest lecturers who are experts in their respective fields, MKDEI provides its students with access to a wealth of knowledge and experience. Whether it's advice on career paths, tips for acing entrance exams, or insights into life in the armed forces, MKDEI's mentors are always there to offer support and guidance every step of the way.
Success Stories:
But don't just take our word for it—let the success stories of MKDEI's alumni speak for themselves. From cadets who have gone on to become officers in the Indian Army, Navy, and Air Force to aspirants who have successfully cleared prestigious exams like the NDA, CDS, and AFCAT, MKDEI's alumni network is a testament to the institute's commitment to excellence and success.
Conclusion:
In the diverse and dynamic landscape of Maharashtra, where dreams take flight amidst the echoes of history, Major Kulthe Defence Education Institute (MKDEI) stands as a guiding light for those aspiring to serve their nation. With its unwavering commitment to mentorship, empowerment, and excellence, MKDEI is pioneering a new era of defence career guidance in Maharashtra—one that empowers dreams, nurtures talent, and forges futures that are as bright as they are bold. So the next time you're in search of guidance on your journey towards a career in defence, remember to turn to MKDEI—a beacon of hope and inspiration for aspirants across Maharashtra.

In today's rapidly evolving world, the need for sustainable engineering solutions has never been more pressing. Dr. Stephen Dent BMO, a renowned engineer based in the USA, stands at the forefront of this movement. With a passion for innovation and a commitment to environmental stewardship, Dr. Stephen Dent BMO is revolutionizing the field of engineering through his pioneering sustainable solutions.

Introduction to Dr. Stephen Dent BMO

Stephen Dent BMO is not just an engineer; he's a visionary dedicated to making a positive impact on the world. His journey began with a deep-rooted curiosity for understanding how things work and a desire to solve complex problems. Graduating with top honors in engineering, Stephen Dent BMO embarked on a mission to merge his technical expertise with his passion for sustainability.

The Vision for Sustainable Engineering

At the heart of Stephen Dent BMO work is the vision of creating engineering solutions that minimize environmental impact while maximizing efficiency and effectiveness. This vision drives him to explore innovative technologies, rethink traditional practices, and push the boundaries of what's possible in the field of engineering.

Sustainable Infrastructure Projects

One of Stephen Dent BMO notable contributions to sustainable engineering is his involvement in designing and implementing eco-friendly infrastructure projects. From renewable energy systems to green building initiatives, Stephen Dent BMO expertise has been instrumental in developing solutions that reduce carbon emissions and promote environmental conservation.

Renewable Energy Systems

Dr. Stephen Dent BMO passion for renewable energy is evident in his work on projects aimed at harnessing the power of nature to meet our energy needs sustainably. Through advancements in solar, wind, and hydroelectric technologies, Dr. Stephen Dent BMO is helping to transition communities away from fossil fuels towards cleaner, renewable sources of energy.

Green Building Initiatives

In the realm of construction and architecture, Stephen Dent BMO is a leading advocate for green building practices. By integrating energy-efficient designs, sustainable materials, and smart building systems, he's helping to create structures that not only minimize environmental impact but also enhance the health and well-being of occupants.

Sustainable Transportation Solutions

Transportation is another area where Stephen Dent BMO engineering expertise is making a difference. From electric vehicles to public transit systems powered by renewable energy, Stephen Dent BMO is working to reduce the carbon footprint of transportation and create more sustainable mobility options for communities around the world.

Water Conservation and Management

Water is a precious resource, and Stephen Dent BMO understands the importance of conserving and managing it effectively. Through his work on water reclamation projects, watershed management plans, and innovative irrigation systems, Stephen Dent BMO is helping to ensure that we use water sustainably while protecting our natural ecosystems.

Collaborative Approach to Sustainability

Stephen Dent BMO recognizes that solving the world's most pressing sustainability challenges requires collaboration across disciplines and sectors. That's why he actively seeks out partnerships with researchers, policymakers, industry leaders, and community stakeholders to drive innovation and implement solutions that have a meaningful impact.

The Role of Technology in Sustainability

Technology plays a crucial role in advancing sustainability, and Stephen Dent BMO is a firm believer in its potential to drive positive change. Whether it's leveraging data analytics to optimize resource usage or developing new materials and processes that reduce waste, Stephen Dent BMO is harnessing the power of technology to create a more sustainable future.

Inspiring the Next Generation

As a mentor and educator, Stephen Dent BMO is passionate about inspiring the next generation of engineers to embrace sustainability in their work. Through workshops, lectures, and educational programs, he shares his knowledge and experiences, empowering young engineers to think creatively and innovatively about how they can contribute to a more sustainable world.

Dr. Stephen Dent Sustainable Legacy

Dr. Stephen Dent BMO pioneering work in sustainable engineering is leaving a lasting legacy that extends far beyond the projects he's involved in. Through his dedication, innovation, and unwavering commitment to sustainability, Stephen Dent BMO is helping to shape a future where engineering solutions not only meet the needs of society but also respect the limits of our planet.
In the words of Stephen Dent BMO himself, "Sustainability is not just a goal; it's a responsibility. As engineers, we have the power to design a better world, and it's our duty to ensure that the solutions we create are sustainable for generations to come."
With Dr. Stephen Dent BMO leading the way, the future of engineering is indeed looking greener and brighter.

I don't really no where to start. I feel I've lost myself, consumed with anxiety and guilt and fear and regret and I fear, this new fear, that it's going to be the end of me if I don't start to get it out in some way, shape or form.
I guess I'll begin at the beginning...
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I had a difficult childhood with fairly neglectful parents. A mother who openly expressed she never felt she really stepped into her mom shoes until she gave birth to my younger sister, who is three years younger than me. She is my only sibling. My mother told me when I was a kid that she "had to love me", but when my sister came around "she was finally a mother and over the moon", or simply "I always always wanted a girl". I'm not sure if this could be attributed to Post-partum depression, not that she ever researched that or was daignosed with it. That's probably just me trying to pardon my mother or something to the effect. She was 17 when she had me and I'm sure times were different then, my parents both were raised religious, father christian, mother mormon. Maybe their guilt. I ask myself why they brought me into this world if I wasn't wanted to begin with. Or, give me up for adoption to a set of guardians that would have loved me better. I know I was an accident and that's not what gets me down, I get that life be lifing and what happened happened. My difficulties stem from the feeling that my presence never gave my mother any sense of purpose, responsibility or love, or concern. She was emotionally unavailable to me virtually my entire life and I feel like that caused many issues later in my life and how I perceive myself and what I deserve. Coupled with the fact that my neglect met such extremes that I am frankly shocked that I was never picked up by child care services, maybe things were different in the 90's. I'm not sure, I was just a child then.
Much of my upbringing I didn't receive a lot of the things most people would consider essential. As a baby my crib was the sock drawer, then I grew large enough to have a closet, then slept on the floor of a walk-in closet, then I had a single bed from what I recall for maybe a year or maybe two years and I remember feeling metal springs poke me in the my ribs and I recall it being uncomfortable enough for me to move back to sleeping on the floor next to the ratty old used mattress my father found from who knows where. I remember feeling like I had to keep that secret, that the mattress they gave me was uncomfortable enough for me to sneak sleeping on the floor next to it. I think I was really afraid as coming across as ungrateful. My father came from a third world country, so the "gratefullness issue" was address frequently by my mom because "I don't have it even half as bad as what my father had to endure. And she was probably right. But it just silenced me ultimately, didn't put things into a mature context for me. I just learned that I can't complain about anything ever. Anyway, that trend didn't really change when I grew older. grade 9-10 I was sleeping on the living room couch so my sister could have privacy and a bedroom to exist in for herself - which I realize is important for an individual so I encouraged her to have the bedroom. Although I figured my parents expected me to do this for my sister regardless. I was okay with making sacrfices for those I love, it was instilled in me from a very very young age.
I do feel like my father took advantage of me in the form of labour as well, having to do custodial work with my father from 10pm to 3am, at two highschools I believe he was contracted, at that young age I honestly enjoyed just spending time with my father I think, working alongside him. When I was in grade 2 and 3 I had garbage bag duty for all the students bathrooms, and I remember loving snapping the bags open by rushing air into the bag and making it blow up like a baloon. I remember the scary unlit shadowy hallways that I couldn't perceive the ends of. No bodies to see, it felt eerie but exciting in a way - like it was a whole different world.
School was a different experience for me. It was very stressful, my parents had to move a few times a year because they would dodge rent or just generally be selfish with their dual income. They loved to party hard on the weekends. I remember wondering why my father did this to himself all the time. Hoping that we could spend quality time on a saturday, but he wouldnt get out of bed until just before dinner. I didn't really understand hangovers or alcoholism and how it meant our plans would get cancelled. I think I remember trying to wrap my head around willful self-poisoning for entertainment and how could that be more enjoyable then spending time with your son? I couldn't tell my mother why I was so sad about it. Why I didn't want to move again and again and again. Why I found it so difficult to make new friends everytime I had to switch schools. Why I couldn't just do one single full school year with one class of students. It was so hard and at the time, I didn't know anything different. It was so hard to make friends and I think it created this approach to making a "new family" of friends when I became a teenager and young adult.
​
I remember always wanting to be a "good kid". The "best kid" for my parents. I feel like my parents attached this moniker to me that made things harder for me to mature into a rounded adult later in life. My parents always flaunted me as this point of accomplishment, the accomplishment that I was "so extremely well behaved". I would strive to be super polite, and a good host, try to help out when my parents had their friends over, literally fill their cups when the opportunity presented themselves. I think I did this because I must have made the conclusion that if I was quiet, super polite, helpful and useful then I had value. That I could be loved. That I could earn this love from my parents through acts of service.
I remember feeling like my sister and I had extremely different experiences growing up. When my parents were at work I took care of her, cleaned and cooked. one time my sister told my mom to eff off when she was 5 and I was 8. My mind was blown. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that she had the bravery and courage to defy my mother. Looking back, my sister was just mirroring the language she learned from my parents from whenever they fought. I remembering seriously worrying and getting scared that my father was going to belt her, or use the coat hanger, which was his preference with me. I feel like my mom was always checked out and I'm hurt that she allowed my father to take his rage out on me. That my mom could care less about me being beat, but never my sibling. It was very confusing and difficult for me to process. Not that I really processed it much as a kid. I honestly just wanted to be loved and be the best child possible. Honestly though, 'm seriously so glad that my sister was spared all of that complete non-sense. I don't wish that on anyone in the world. There were some punishments where he would walk in and tell me to pull my pants down without explanation. I have memories of tearing up and saying I didn't know why this was happening, asking what I did wrong and he would just remind me that if I resisted then I would get it worse and to hurry up and get ready. My father has since apologized. I think it is how he was raised. I didn't know what to say in response, but I told him I loved him and it's in the past. But I don't know if I was being honest when I said that. My mother would still gaslight me to this day if any of this became topic of discussion, not that I'm guessing. A year ago she told me that much of my pained memories were false and this never happened. My father on the other hand typically stays pensive and unchallenging.
It seems so damned crazy writing all of this out, it feels like a heartbreaking novel and not my life at all. But it was and is my life. I have difficulties opening up and expressing my feelings and advocating for myself when the moments are true and appropriate to do so. I know it's the healthier way to communicate, but I was literally taught to stay quiet and be useful. Fast forward 20-25 years and I'm going to be 35 and I feel like just ending it all. Every year my birthday passes and I'll get a text from my family happy birthday. But they know I'm in a difficult place, they know I miss them, they know I love them and forgive them, I try the high road whenever I can but I just don't see the point anymore. they won't celebrate my life and existence, but they'll throw family gatherings for each other, birthdays, christmas, fathers day and mothers day.
On that note, another mother's day has recently passed and my mother never invited me over, I texted my father three weeks in advance in hopes of securing a time to come over and celebrate my mothers life with my family as a family. I felt particularly stung this mother's day when they celebrated and didn't text or call to invite me over. I live in the same small town so it's easy to hop over. I literally live three blocks away.
Anyway, my mother was diagnosed with cancer over christmas this year and I have been worrying for my mother ever since and thinking about my life with her and the mortal coil and the finite mount of time I may have with her. I feel like there is a large empty part in my heart that wishes my mother and I could go grab a coffee together. She can show me her ipad app art that she has been really excited about for a couple years now. She loves showing off her digital art and I love seeing her joy and how proud she is about her art. I just don't know why she couldn't feel the same for me, her only son. Maybe I'm just a her dissapointment.
I dropped out of highschool and left the family home when I was 16. I just couldn't work for my dad during the night AND go to highschool AND socialize. Something had to give. Unfortunately it was highschool and my parents didn't really care about that at all. They were just... fine with it. they supported my sister through college and she was fortunately able to graduate with a veterinary degree of sorts. she still lives with them now as she pays off her student debt, but I left and travelled and worked on music for over a decade so I admit that I was entirely out of the family picture for some time. But as I get older, not wanting to repeat the mistakes of my parents I fear that that is precisely what's been creeping up in my life.
five years ago I met the absolute most wonderful human being and I am so lucky to have my partner in my life. She and I are engaged now and set to be married. I hoped that the news would overwhelm my parents with excitement and joy. Maybe a facebook post about their son, share some family pictures or something. But they did nothing at all. I think they showed off pictures of the trip to Mexico that week instead.
I just don't really understand how I'm this unworthy of their love and unfortunately now I'm realizing that illusion that I am unworthy has infected my relationship with my fiance. I love her so much but when I can't fix everything in her life I feel like I am the failure and the guilt overhelms me so much and the guilt is such a strong motivator for me, and it usually motivates me into becoming the biggest doormat in the world. I've never worked harder for a relationship or invested this much energy. I feel she deserves it. But I don't advocate for myself. So I build up resentment. Like I clean the house constantly and work and help bail out of her bad spending habits and cover her rent without question and this and that. To be clear, she doesn't take advantage of me and that's not how I feel about it. But I do let this annoyance build up inside of me because I don't know how to communicate my feelings in a healthy way. I'm scared I'll lose the person if I speak up, or I'll be gaslit. Again, that's not my partner that gaslights. That's just generally how I feel I'll be treated if I open up with people. It all goes back to my childhood. It's affected every friendship and work relationship I've had since.
When I was 20-ish, 15 years years ago I did the classic, "seek the relationship that most comfortably fits into the patterns you experienced with your parents". And so I trapped myself in a horrific and extremely damaging relationship with a girl I'll call K. She has undiagnosed bipolaBPD, she would never seek help but self-medicate. She ended up in the hospital maybe four times for self-harming and this where she was considered to have these diseases by a few doctors on different occasions. Anway, it turned into a relationship of abuse and it wasn't exactly new territory for me. I was ashamed in that 8 year relationship. I wanted out so bad, but she would threaten to unalive everytime I tried to get away. Of course, some weeks would go by and i would get my hair pulled out of my scalp, a knife waving in the air in front of my face, spat in the face, kicked, punched, bit, a pot of freshly boiled ramen soup thrown in my face and eyes. What's worse is that I seeked police intervention on multiple occasions. Every single time the police visited, they talked me out of pressing charges, asking me " well if she doesn't have any place to go, then do you have a place you can stay at, or the shelter?". twice they talked me out of a restraining order, that legal proceedings would take forever. Adn de-escalting me from wanting to take measures to ensure my safety because she may end up on the street as a result. To this day, I absolutely wish I advocated for myself here and pushed for a restraining order. I'm so mad at myself for not doing so.
Unfortunately, fast forward a couple years into that relationship and one evening everything would finally hit the fan. I told her to never touch me again and I absolutely meant it. she had just yanked out the largest chunk of my hair to date, to the point where my scalp was bleeding and I could even see epidermal matter still attached to the folicle ends that were in her clenched fingers. My head bled a bit and I pushed her off of me. Telling her that I needed to leave, that I was walking to my secure jam space just a 10 minute walk away. It had a leather couch in a cold concrete basement, but hey at least I would be safe for the night and I could play my drums and try and blow off this anxiety and fear in a way that was safe albeit very noisy.
She hated that I wanted to leave and convinced herself I would never return. To be fair, that was the energy I had. I never wanted to see her face again and have her name on my lips after that night. So her tactic was simple, to threaten me with calling the cops and tell them that I violently pushed her. I called her bluff and said "go ahead and I will just tell them everything you've done - yet again. All I am doing is going to the space to sleep, I said, maybe play drums." She called the cops and told them she was pushed into a wall, and she felt very unsafe. Which yes, I did push her off me when she attacked me. In the past, I tried various tactics, to run away didn't work, she just always chased me down. Or sometimes I would just sit there while she was violent against me and I just "dissapeared" kind of like how I would when my dad used his coat hanger. This time, I just pushed her off of me, I was done with the relationship at that point and we both knew it. Anyway, she called the police, they arrived and when questioned I told them that I pushed her off of me in self-defence. I was drinking that night and it didn't help my case as I was arrested without question that evening and I was charged on the spot without question with domestic assault. It devasted me. I asked the police how this could happen lawfully. That she is an abuser and there is a history of this multiple times. That I've requested a restraining order. They explained that in quebec the laws are a little different and in the case domestic cases, if there is a male aggressor against a female, then the male is automatically charged to the fullest extent. I was absolutelyu devasted by this. I can't tell you the amount of fear and anger I felt in that jail cell that night.
I feel so incredibly betrayed by the justice system, keep in mind, this is law that from what I understand is only in Quebec, I was there for music at the time with an old friend whom I am no longer in contact with. I don't think the rest of the country operates under law in this way. Now I appreciate that they are vigilant about woman abuse victims, but the law shouldn't be this absurdly biased. It just doesnt feel just and fair to me. Covert abusers shouldn't be able to take advantage of the justice system in this way, but it happens.
It was an awful experience, I was homeless for a couple months afterward, not allowed to retrieve my belongings, so I lost all of my life "crap" that I had built up, years of hardwork and investment. I mention this because I realize later in life that I have intense collecting behaviour. maybe as a self-soothing behaviour. But I love building up collections of my hobby stuff as I have many and I feel they keep me regulated and it's a form of therapy for me. In any case, I lost everything when I left that whole situation. It sucks, although ultimately it's clearly best that I got out of that dreadful circumstance. I flew across the country to my hometown and to be closer to my family and old friends from highschool. It's quite a small town mind you.
Unfortunately, my classic tendency to hide and not advocate for myself created an opportunity for my abusive ex. A year following those events, despite me assuring her that I had to block her because I flew away to start a new life provinces away. That I wished her the best. That I even promised I would never tell a soul what she did to me. Not to mention that unfortunately we live in a society where nobody really has an ounce of sympathy for a male abuse victim. I had every intention to keep that promise, but she couldn't trust me ultimately. I think her logic was maybe to just beat her ex to "the punch". Kill or be killed or something like that. I don't live my life like that so I don't really know what her plan was. But she made a bunch of posts on various social media platforms for all of our mutual friends, music friends, coworkers etc. that the relationship was over and she was free. That she got out of a cycle of abuse and she was ready to start a new chapter of her life. She never used my name, just that she was glad she got away from her toxic and abusive ex once and for all.
It was exactly like that night a year prior, she threatened me with this outcome she could design for me, and I called her on her bluff by saying I was still going to block her and I can't control what she does with her life or how she conducts herself, but that I was out and to never contact me ever again. She made me regret that decision.
The posts she made that day got so many likes and support from so many of our mutual friends, even musician mates that were closer to me than her, and it absolutely destroyed me, not just internally but socially. I no longer make music anymore and it hurts to go outside into the world because it feels like everybody sees me as this monster. And still I don't have a voice to inform anyone otherwise - except my family and my fiance. I have no friends anymore. They all left my life with the belief that I did all of these horrible and awful things.
I just don't trust people anymore as a result and it's just caused me to become extremely bitter and depressed. I ruminate on the past, maybe in attempts to fix the past so I can move on. So I could do better, so I don't have to punish myself for my mistakes in the past. But it just reopens every emotional wound I have and they never get a chance to heal. That was maybe 7 years ago now and I'm still replaying these events in my head every single morning for about 1 - 2 hrs. Then I go completely numb for the majority of the rest of the day, shallow breathing, and the mildest sadness that mascarades as fatigue and disinterest.
There are some days where I seriously fear for the future and I just feel like every cruel soul will inherit this earth and that's the future, they built this world of suffering and they deserve to inherit it. Their toxic flag staked so deep into the earth in reclamation. The future isn't holding any seats for people like us. I'm so heartbroken and defeated. I feel like white-wolfing my fiance because she deserves better than this traumatized person that hides from the world. I feel like giving her my collection of collections so she can sell it all off and pay off her 10k of credit debt, then with this act of kindness I can go out not feeling like a guilt-ridden defeated loser. And leave on a high note.
When I'm alone, I get trapped in these ruminating cycles and it's the angriest I ever get. It's reached the point where I feel like I am actually reliving all this past trauma every morning and I can't do it anymore. I just feel like I am so at the end of whatever this ride was.
I don't have any friends anymore and everyone but my fiance thinks I am a monster and it's just unbearable.
I just don't even know. I am even afraid that someone will read this post and suss through all of this and make the connection. Then I'll get another new email or random throwaway account with an insta message that says "I told you you would never be able to get over me. You can move on, but you will never be able to erase the past. Never truly. You know where to find me."
It's haunting and it's poisonous. I just feel haunted and poisoned and I don't know if there is a snake oil potent enough or antitode true enough to get me back to the generous, lighthearted, energetic kid I once was.
To whoever was willing to read through all of this, thank you for hearing me out. I don't know what advice I am even asking for here. I'm hoping just speaking this out into the world in some way can alleviate this misery. I don't know.

When I was a kid I would paint and paint a lot. My imagination ran wild. There were abstract shapes, there were wildfires and scenarios I have painted from my imagination alone.
I didn't choose painting as a profession but someone down the line of getting an education and earning I lost the ability to imagine. I paint sometimes and gained some skills learning from youtube but I can't freestyle. I feel I lost a part of my heart that made my imagination run wild.

How can I align my thoughts at once? Or weave them into a single thread? Things don’t move that way in my head, really, and it can be hard, then, to truly capture them. What would I look like if I were a book, I wonder? Pages ripped, and torn, and taped back in. Some pages black and smudged and burned to soot. Some crinkled and crunchy, stuck in an awkward permanence to their neighbor, having had tea or coffee spilled on them - once soggy moments, now rigid in time. Some pages would overflow with words like a waterfall, cascading down into rivers and streams of thought, eternally winding back to the vast open sea of paper before them. Some would be marred by the oily fingerprints of a late-night bad decision - a snack I didn’t need, or a love I didn’t crave. Some would be beautiful and intimate. Some so subtle that a reader might unknowingly skip past them when rifling through; soft, tender, and pure. Some pages would find you with faded Polaroids of a kind stranger’s smile wedged into the binding. Snips of hair, cut and glued in the shape of a promise to a long-forgotten friend. The sweat-soaked setlist to every face-melting, heart-wrenching, and whispered empty bedroom concert I’ve ever held, complete with scribbled titles scratched through in harsh black ink, and a few more added hastily to the end of the already cramped page. Speeches I’ve given to the gods, tacked down with old chewing gum and dried saline. My book would creak and crunch beneath its own weight. Inside, you’d find slots for age-old mixtapes, once used to barter and commiserate with similarly hollowed childhood friends. Each to be removed and played in their own time, a patch-work soundtrack to my life. You’d find dust and dirt and a spider or two, with flecks and specks of god knows what. And some pages would make you fear me. Some would bring you joy. Some would make you ache, or yearn, or gasp, or cry. And many would leave you with more questions, and fewer answers.
Some pages would be dark even for me to read.
Pages that suck and pull at your core. Pages that eat your soul. Pages that aren’t pages at all, always changing in location, always hoping to blend and sneak past the conscious reader’s gaze. And on the very next page, as if nothing had changed, you’d find snippets of life I’ve kept precious. A stack of “get well soon” cards from my first-grade class, carefully threaded into the binding. Art drawn and painted and weaved into the fabric of the pages themselves, labors of love. Secrets and prayers alike, whispered and kissed and sent and tucked with care - all etched like scars into the pale canvas beneath them, invaluable and unquantifiable.
And when you’d finish the book, dear reader, what would you feel, then, seeing me displayed like that? Would you love or hate me more? Would the sum total of my existence be greater or lesser in your eyes? If you weighed and judged me in the balance, what would you discover? Would my life hold any value? Which fragments of this collection would hold any worth at all? If one were to be subtracted or added, would your perception shift? If I strung together the perfect sentence, would you love me then? Is that where my worth would lie?
And what of my own perspective? To see myself laid out in full, aching, and oozing, and radiant all at once—could it be enough? Would it offer anything new? Could I see it - really see it - and call it complete? Would my book, in the end, have meant anything at all?

Hello! I just had a personalized dojang stamp made in a small shop in Insa-dong. I’m very happy with the quality of the stamp except there is a heart (like a drawn heart shape) added in the middle of the other characters. I assume it may have been added to even out the balance of the design, but I’m not sure if this is typical or common? (I don’t love hearts and am not particularly girly so I’m not a huge fan of it in the design, but if it is a common thing to add, I will just consider it that and not be ungrateful!!) I can’t find anything on this by searching. Thank you for any insight!

Over the past several months I've been experiencing extreme exercise intolerance. I am a 41F, overweight (5'4" ~190lbs) after having a total thyroidectomy due to Grave's disease in 2017. I gained about 80lbs after surgery and I'm currently on Ozempic to help. (Have lost ~40lbs since July)
Last summer I was able to swim 60 lengths in the pool, took me about 45 min (not going for any records) and my HR would get into the 140s-150s by the end. I didn't feel terrible, I felt like I was getting good exercise.
Now I can hardly exert myself at all. My resting heart rate is 70-80. If I climb ONE flight of stairs, 14 steps, at a fairly leisurely pace, my heart rate immediately goes up to ~140-160. I get extremely short of breath. Occasionally I feel light headed. I am a vet tech and I spend a decent amount of time on the floor with my patients. When I get up, I get tachycardic and light headed. The other day I had to corral two sibling puppies into their kennel. The bending and pushing the pups into the kennel got my HR to 158. I had to lift a 90lbs dog onto a table for x-rays (with assistance!) and I had to sit down after, even though the lifting took like 4.5 seconds. My HR got to the 160s for that. (See a few screenshots from my smart watch. I sent one to my husband with the dog lifting one, hence the comments on it )I can walk a decent amount on a flat surface and feel fine. I want to start swimming again, but it feels dangerous at this point.
I donate blood regularly. Two weeks ago was my 9th time and I almost completely blacked out. Never happened before. Tunnel vision, sweating, extreme nausea, tingly hands, the whole 9 yards. It was awful.
What I've done so far:

• ECG - normal sinus rhythm (ya, I was laying on a table)
  
• Blood work - slightly low ferratin, but my doctor wasn't super concerned, I've had lower in the past and never felt like this. Hemoglobin was fine at blood donation. Thyroid hormones stable (taking desiccated thyroid, not levothyroxine)
  
• Holter monitor - getting results tomorrow. This is where I'm worried my doctor will just tell me "you're out of shape" or "it's your anxiety" (my anxiety has been well controlled for years, I feel anxious 0%) Why do I think this? Because the holter was done April 16. I hadn't heard anything so I called on Thursday. Receptionist says "oh ya we got those results quickly, if you want the results you have to book an appointment" 🤦‍♀️ Of course I want the results!! That makes me think the holter was "normal"
  
• Talked to my endocrinologist- he says not likely Ozempic related and my thyroid hormones are in a good range so not likely that either.
  

If you've gotten this far thanks for reading. I'm really frustrated by this. Hopefully I can convince my doctor to refer me to a cardiologist.

Long post!
Hello everyone I thought I would share my journey
A little over year and a half ago my girlfriend broke up with me, we dated for 6 months which I know is not a long time compared to a lot of you but I was in love with this girl, she was my first girlfriend and the first girl that really gave me a chance and showed me love, I was sure that we were going to spend the rest of our lives together and that she was the one.
So on a Thursday night after work I got a message from her to go for a walk, I was super happy to go and spend some time with my favourite person, after meeting her at the park she wanted to go to and her giving me the usual hug when she stepped back and had tears in her eyes my heart sank and then she started to talking flipping my whole world upside down.
I got home and was crying until the sun came up, what made it harder was the fact we worked together so I had to go into work after having no sleep and see the person that had ripped my heart in half, when I saw her it was like nothing had happened she was laughing smiling and was genuinely happy while I was a mess, every 30 minutes of that day I had to go to the bathroom and cry my eyes out, it ruined me how unaffected she was by all this.
The next month would consist of me lying in bed depressed and looking up every which way I could get her back into my life, no contact was popular so I stared to implement it, I started no contact with the intention of her missing me and coming back into my life and would sit next to my phone all day everyday praying she would send me a message
Then one day I woke up and was at the acceptance stage, I know a lot of you do not want to hear this and a lot of you might just skip this part but as soon as I started to fully accept that this person was no longer in my life and would probably never be in my life again the faster I was able to move on.
I had always been very interested in investing and fitness, during the relationship they became the second option after her, but after the breakup with all this new time on my hands and all of this pain (anger,sadness,guilt,regret) I was able to fully focus on my goals and use the pain as motivation.
6 months after the breakup I became a full time investor and was in the best shape of my life, fast forward today and life has never been better, have my own business have a great support group and am achieving all of my goals.
And my friends if you use all of that pain you are feeling to become a better person, achieve those goals and become the badass version of yourself, that person that made the decision that you were no longer good enough to be apart of them, that person that when you were in bed a mess thinking if you are good enough while they were out hooking up and having the time of their life, the person that when you had to go cry every 30 minutes they were laughing unfazed, when that person tries to re enter your life and ask for a second chance and they are sorry.
It will be US that get the final laugh, because WE have improved and became that boss,because WE do not downgrade and because WE don’t move backwards only forwards.
If you made it this far I appreciate you, I know how hard it is but I promise if you use the pain you are feeling as fuel to become the best person you can you will look back at this and be grateful for this person grateful that this person decided to close the door on a Toyota so it can become a Ferrari.

I wrote the following as a sort of journal entry and thought this might be a good place to share it. I know it’s a bit over the top, but this is the only way these words come out of me. Not trying to be pretentious lol. Hope someone out there can relate or enjoy. Felt good to write it.
How can I align my thoughts at once? Or weave them into a single thread? Things don’t move that way in my head, really, and it can be hard, then, to truly capture them. What would I look like if I were a book, I wonder? Pages ripped, and torn, and taped back in. Some pages black and smudged and burned to soot. Some crinkled and crunchy, stuck in an awkward permanence to their neighbor, having had tea or coffee spilled on them - once soggy moments, now rigid in time. Some pages would overflow with words like a waterfall, cascading down into rivers and streams of thought, eternally winding back to the vast open sea of paper before them. Some would be marred by the oily fingerprints of a late-night bad decision - a snack I didn’t need, or a love I didn’t crave. Some would be beautiful and intimate. Some so subtle that a reader might unknowingly skip past them when rifling through; soft, tender, and pure. Some pages would find you with faded Polaroids of a kind stranger’s smile wedged into the binding. Snips of hair, cut and glued in the shape of a promise to a long-forgotten friend. The sweat-soaked setlist to every face-melting, heart-wrenching, and whispered empty bedroom concert I’ve ever held, complete with scribbled titles scratched through in harsh black ink, and a few more added hastily to the end of the already cramped page. Speeches I’ve given to the gods, tacked down with old chewing gum and dried saline. My book would creak and crunch beneath its own weight. Inside, you’d find slots for age-old mixtapes, once used to barter and commiserate with similarly hollowed childhood friends. Each to be removed and played in their own time, a patch-work soundtrack to my life. You’d find dust and dirt and a spider or two, with flecks and specks of god knows what. And some pages would make you fear me. Some would bring you joy. Some would make you ache, or yearn, or gasp, or cry. And many would leave you with more questions, and fewer answers.
Some pages would be dark even for me to read.
Pages that suck and pull at your core. Pages that eat your soul. Pages that aren’t pages at all, always changing in location, always hoping to blend and sneak past the conscious reader’s gaze. And on the very next page, as if nothing had changed, you’d find snippets of life I’ve kept precious. A stack of “get well soon” cards from my first-grade class, carefully threaded into the binding. Art drawn and painted and weaved into the fabric of the pages themselves, labors of love. Secrets and prayers alike, whispered and kissed and sent and tucked with care - all etched like scars into the pale canvas beneath them, invaluable and unquantifiable.
And when you’d finish the book, dear reader, what would you feel, then, seeing me displayed like that? Would you love or hate me more? Would the sum total of my existence be greater or lesser in your eyes? If you weighed and judged me in the balance, what would you discover? Would my life hold any value? Which fragments of this collection would hold any worth at all? If one were to be subtracted or added, would your perception shift? If I strung together the perfect sentence, would you love me then? Is that where my worth would lie?
And what of my own perspective? To see myself laid out in full, aching, and oozing, and radiant all at once—could it be enough? Would it offer anything new? Could I see it - really see it - and call it complete? Would my book, in the end, have meant anything at all?

Hi everyone! I recently had to wear the BodyGuardian Mini. The cardiologist wanted me to wear it for 28 days, but my skin was terribly itchy and burning with it. We removed it after wearing it for a week due to the reaction and plan to try it again in a month. It’s officially been over a week since I’ve taken it off, but my skin still has an irritated imprint of the monitor. My wedding day is coming up and I’m scared that I’ll have this heart monitor shaped rash on my chest the day of. Has anyone else had this experience with the monitor? How long did it take for the imprint to go away?

Do you believe that MM will sing heart shaped glasses while performing live when Evan Rachel Wood has allegations against him?
What songs do you think he will sing?
Will he sing more off of We are Chaos because he never toured that album?
Will he sing songs from his new alleged 2024 album?

This weekend, Ajax Budokan invited Kodokan 9th dan and former head of the Tokyo Police dojo, Michio Fukushima Sensei, to conduct a 4 hour clinic for Kodokan Goshin Jutsu. It was open to yellow belt and higher, though the majority consisted of Yudansha. My senseis had the honour of demoing the kata, as Fukushima Sensei's health did not permit presenting each technique multiple times, though he did show some of the finer details, demo mechanics, and gave comments as to what was good and displayed what could be fixed. He also talked about older versions of the techniques and how/ why they have been changed. Regretfully, it totally slipped my mind to film during the seminar, as there was a lot of good information, translated (and left untranslated) by the interpreter.
Some General Notes on Fukushima Sensei Fukushima Sensei on multiple occasions mentioned how one should carry themselves and move, more specifically he talked about how he usually sees toris get away with bad shisei as uke's attacks are generally to kind or passive, and that if they genuinely attacked, most toris would be off balance. Additionally he mentioned that a lot of IFJ competition now is power judo, where the technical aspects are replaced for brute force and speed.
The main note he makes is to keep the knees alive (slightly bent and bouncy like a spring), and that most novices have a tendency to straight leg their kata. He also made it a great point to explain the logic of the waza in the kata and how the kuzushi is created. Other important details he talked about were that uke shouldn't be a limp noodle once his attack is over, that tori should keep good sabaki (unclear if sabaki was short hand for tai sabaki as he also stated tai sabaki on different occasions (the details were paraphrased by the translator)), and the usage of rotation from the hips to maintain proper balance (tai sabaki). Additionally, he talked about things relating to karada (the body) and some anecdotes (such as stories about judoka such as Michigami, Isao Okano, and Nagaoka if I was hearing correctly, though I don't speak Japanese, only somewhat familiar with it), which were left untranslated or paraphrased sadly.
Emphasised details in the kata (not explanations or descriptions of how to do a technique) and my experiences (FYI Sensei mostly used the Tomiki names for the waza Tori applied)
Attacks when held

1. Ryote dori - my partner and I (both new to this kata for the most part) went in on this one and struggled as we didn't see the detail of thumb in hand for the lock (blind leading the blind, though we later worked near a kind pair after this who helped check more closely as they were experienced in the kata)
   1. Yahazu (hook shape for hand) is very important to direct uke's arm
   2. You aren't pulling the arm away to free it, you are pushing your elbow forward which pressures uke's arm
   3. Te gatana to the uto (point between uke's eyes)
   4. When applying the lock (te gatame), make sure to rotate uke's hand such that the fingers are pointing up
   5. When applying the lock, take the uke's arm in the direction perpendicular to the line made by his feet
2. Hidari eri dori - I particularly liked this one, though my uke was confused the first few times as he kept trying to apply waki gatame.
   1. Tori must grab underneath uke's hand on the lapel when stepping back
   2. When grabbing uke's hand to break the grip and apply the lock (kote hineri), tori should have his thumb in between uke's thumb and fingers, and to take the uke's arm in the direction perpendicular to the line made by his feet
   3. Uke should try to maintain jigo tai rather than lean so the lock is applied cleanly
   4. Tori's hand should not be limp when delivering the strike
3. Migi eri dori - I couldn't get kote gaeshi to work properly, will have to practice and ask my sensei about it later, same with my partner
   1. Tori should maintain a upright posture as uke pulls him forward, and use the landing of his foot to drive his hand for the uppercut to uke
   2. Tori should try to keep uke's hand attached to his centerline as he makes tai sabaki
4. Kata ude dori - My uke was very stiff, so applying the initial lock to him proved difficult, though he claims he felt it. I found this kata easy to remember as the legs go left right left right (step, step, tai sabaki, kick, then lead with the right for the lock)
   1. You are kicking with the side of the foot
   2. The step before the kick pivot around so your feet are almost parallel
   3. For waki gatame, you should be standing inside his feet, near parallel to the line perpendicular to his feet
5. Ushiro eri dori - I had experience with this one as sensei had taught during some free time a while back
   1. The parry with the arm was stated to also be the preferred way to receive punches, though take that as you will (though it is a common method in karate as well)
   2. The strike should be to the suigetsu (solar plexus)
   3. Trap uke's hand with your head so that it can't wiggle all over the place when applying the lock
6. Ushiro jime - My partner and I both had a tendency to lift the shoulder off after spinning out, will have to work on that. I will be honest, had I known this escape, I probably would have come out of an incident a few years back (before I started Judo) rather unscathed as I was jumped and then kicked on the ground by a person who was quite a pain.
   1. The attack and initial defence are identical to that of katame no kata, following which tori rotates out
   2. Keep pressure with your shoulder until your grip has been changed
7. Kakae dori - We didn't have enough mat space to finish the throw without running into other groups, but the technique is surprisingly effective. Though I couldn't initially find out how to do the armlock and had to ask my sensei about it, now it's pretty easy.
   1. Rotate the arm away from you (clockwise from your perspective) and pull uke's arm into you
   2. During the initial stomp, straighten up and raise your arms to loosen uke's grip

Attacks when at a distance - I got less time to try these in general as I wanted my partner to get a feel for them as they are a bit more complicated and he is less experienced

1. Naname uchi - this was a fun situation, it shows how a little bit of atemi can be used to setup a randori waza, and Fukushima Sensei complimented my senseis' performance saying that it was better than the current text book
   1. Te gatana is used to redirect the strike
   2. Osoto otoshi is performed
   3. Pushing the arm through is important to create the kuzushi necessary for the waza
2. Ago tsuki - I didn't actually get a chance to try this one more than once as my partner struggled with it, he kept applying a shoulder lock by pushing on the elbow without the redirect with the thumb up (shoulder is still sore)
   1. when directing uke's attack up and away, do not lean back as then you are unstable
   2. Use yahazu to direct uke's elbow toward his ear
   3. As uke will not like this use the moment after releasing the elbow lock to throw him forward in the direction perpendicular to his feet.
3. Gammen Tsuki - My partner really liked this one, I can see the uses as I've used similar entries when messing around with strikes + judo with this partner as I have a bit of karate experience
   1. Uke is meant to do a break fall, thus tori needs to get out of the way after releasing the choke
   2. Uke should realistically be aiming for where tori's uto would be if he did not evade
4. Mae Geri - this was a relatively easy one to grasp, but quite a bit of practice is needed before a full force kick can be considered
   1. Rotate ukes foot outwards so that it is not easy for him to rotate in to escape
   2. In the original, tori would lift uke's leg high but many ukes ended up injured from hitting their heads, so now tori just pushes back
5. Yoko geri - My sensei has introduced this one at the dojo before as well, though he prefaced it with about a minute of just practicing a side kick. My partner (who suffers from light knee pain) couldn't kneel during the finish
   1. The use of the te gatana to redirect the kick in the direction it is going, very similar to karates low block
   2. During the finish tori creates a void for uke to be thrown but in real life tori would throw uke onto his knee

Attacks with weapons - I understand people dislike these (reasonably in some cases), but I've found them to be useful points to explore
Attacks with a knife - Sensei Fukushima mentioned how despite my senseis making it look easy
Both my partner and I have practiced these quite a lot (I was the only one who was taught it by sensei but we practiced it on our own time), so not as many personal notes. Though I don't have a good experience so my brain switches to serious and my heart rate increases despite the fact that I know these are fake weapons.

1. Tsukkake
   1. The elbow should be pushed forward (I've actually experimented with this in the past by asking uke to try to stab me as I applied the defence, and we've found after the initial push and strike, tori is in a relatively good position, be it to run away or finish the kata)
   2. Push the locked up arm up and towards uke, then guide him to the ground
2. Choku zuki - I struggled to apply the waki gatame, I'm guessing it was control of the wrist that was the problem, this form is relatively straight forward and makes sense
   1. The strike should not be a boxer style punch, but more like the first punch in szkt
   2. uke should not go limp
   3. when moving away from uke, take him perpendicular to the line between his feet
3. Naname Zuki - Personally I think this form is cutting it close in many regards, but the control tori has is quite surprising
   1. Don't grab the blade from the sharp edge

Attacks with a jo - PSA, no matter how much you trust your uke, mistakes happen (especially with such a solid weapon) so remain vigilant to mitigate damage

1. Furi age - this was a relatively easy technique to grasp as it is an application of O soto gari setup with a palm strike to the chind
   1. Tori should enter as soon as uke begins to raise his arm, almost a preemptive entry
   2. Tori strikes at the ago (chin) with a palm strike, then places his hand on the throat for the throw
2. Furi oroshi - My partner leant into the swing and wacked me on the forehead, it could've been worse but it just grazed the outer layer as I saw the jo come closer after my initial retreat and attempted to turn out of the way. Both a PSA for tori and uke. Tori do not keep your eyes off uke, and uke please don't lean into a swing, you are horribly off balance, and you make it harder for tori to read. Also uke don't speed up when you 2 are learning (I don't know why my partner chose too...)
   1. Do not hop back onto one leg and then towards uke with the other, it leads you to have bad posture
   2. Better to make a big retreat than get hit
   3. 2 strike, one ura ken (back fist), followed by knife hand push
   4. Uke's swing should be at a diagonal
3. Morote zuki - I didn't get to practice this one as my partner was taken a bit aback after the previous incident and couldn't get the steps right for this one. Fukushima Sensei mentioned something along the lines of how a judoka was faced with a juken and couldn't figure out what to do, and thus this form was created to address that.
   1. Tori shouldn't be rowing the jow away to shake throw uke
   2. The arm puts pressure on uke's arm forward
   3. Tori should be trying to angle the jo down towards himself after the initial grab

Attacks with a gun - I struggled with all of these, but I think the principles are relatively sound. Though in real life, I'd most likely give up my valuables. Fukushima Sensei emphasised hip rotation in these movements, as he says that you want to direct the gun away without moving your feet, which is what uke would be seeing when looking at your pocket.
Always make sure to begin your defence after uke is clearly focused on checking your pockets, never when his focus is directly on you

1. Shomen Zuke
   1. Grab the barrel of the gun thumb up
   2. During the disarm, push the gun's muzzle to face towards him
2. Koshi Gamae - I kept getting the second hand wrong and thus the barallel was pointed towards me in the final attack, will need to work on that
   1. Grab the barrel of gun initially with the thumb down with your right hand, and push the gun so that it is horizontal after turning left, then grab the gun from below with your right
   2. make sure to not point the gun at yourself when hitting with the butt
3. Haimen Zuke - this is quite a dangerous move in theory, but also one of the more likely ones
   1. Wrap uke's arm with your arm, but make sure to direct the muzzle up with the free arm
   2. [uke] should let go of gun, as this is a hard breakfall

Overarching and repeated themes in the kata

• The use of yahazu to direct the arm rather than grips
• Keeping uke's hand connected to your centerline when applying kansetsu waza
• te gatana is a useful tool to redirect and or strike the opponent quickly
• During the gun portion, always rotate the gun off your centerline, so that even if it does fire, it doesn't penetrate too deep
• Control the gun by the muzzle
• most finishes are done by guiding uke perpendicular to the line in between his feet
• Do not directly oppose an opponents force
• Maintanence of balance at all times and moving from the hips is key
• Uke should attack meaningfully
• Action reaction is used quite a lot to first lock uke up towards his face, so that when he pushes back he is easily lead away

Overall, it was quite a good event, and I learned a lot. This kata isn't the most realistic with the attacks (though apparently a few people I know have used the ryote dori attack shockingly), but what I've learned so far is relatively sound, hopefully some time soon I can convince my partner to do some live resistance sparring with some gear on (which I have done with the knife portion with a plastic knife). Fukushima Sensei had a lot to say, as he was actively discussing his experiences and koshiki no kata after the seminar with another Japanese speaker, and I hope to be able to attend another one of his classes again someday.
Here are some videos featuring Michio Fukushima from a few years back, both where he was actively demoing, and where he had a slightly more corrective position.
https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=1253474818155243
https://youtu.be/VKgdMJS9eck?si=bGMemLfG9aquAHr1

The novel begins September 3, 2006, a Sunday. In "physical time," our reality, Andre Agassi played and lost his final match of his career. Steve Irwin, the croc hunter, would die the following day from a stingray's three barbed venomous spinal blades puncturing his heart. Senator Barak Obama was still denying he was intending to run for President (he would announce in February 2007.) The number 1 song in America and the UK is Sexyback by Justin Timberlake. Egypt warned of Palestinian terror attacks against Israelis vacationing in Sinai. Charlie Sheen turned 41. 200 Taliban are killed in a major battle in Kandahar, Afghanistan. Iraqi leaders announce the capture of the #2 leader of Al Qaeda. Europe's space agency purposely crash-lands a lunar probe into the moon.
In short, nothing, on balance seems to have happened in the world that has any particular world-historical or even US-historical import. Just a day. Even searching back 4 extra days from September 3 - since we are told that the man viewing the art installation is now on his fifth straight day in the museum - nothing all that *important* seems to have happened on any of those dates, the way saying a novel is starting on June 6, 1944, or (obviously) September 10, 2001, or July 16, 1945 or November 22, 1962 would be of course trying to tell us something.
Q: why is Delillo's purpose (is there one?) for telling us this specific date? Why is it important that the man is there on September 3, 2006 watching this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a31q2ZQcETw over and over.
Q: who is the man? Delillo himself? Just a random unnamed character? Is it definitely Finley and Elster who are the two men who come into the room? The description of the older man "long white hair braided at the nape" [p.7, Scribner] certainly seems to suggest it is Elster, described in Ch. 1 as a man "with silvery hair, as always, was braided down into a short ponytail." If it is definitely them, what does it mean they attended a museum show together? Anything?
This is not the first Delillo novel to open with a scene where a movie, and anonymous characters' responses to watching it, is central to the narrative - Players opens with a movie being shown on a plane that is basically a silent movie of a terrorist machine-gun attack on waspy golfers, only accompanied by a pianist (yes a pianist) in the airplane bar filling in the suspense with improvised show tunes - and it is not the first to open with an examination of an art installation - Underworld, after the fantastic baseball game section - opens at Klara Sax's airplane bomber art installation commune. But this opening seems to introduce two characters obliquely, and of course only if you've paid close attention to the description of Elster's hair could you think back to it being him, perhaps.
"The nature of the film permitted total concentration and also depended on it." "The less there was to see, the harder he looked, the more he saw." [p.5, Scribner]
Q:Who is this person watching and why should we care?
Q: Did the opening sequence provide you any insight other than , perhaps, confusion? Something other than "what the hell did I just read?" What? Does your reaction to the opening sequence change when you know (if you did before this post) that the Psycho installation was and is real?
Moving on to Chapter 1 [p. 17, Scribner], we learn that we are on Day 10 of a 12-day period of time that relates the initial relationship between Elster and Finley. Finley, who is probably in his early to mid-30s and 73-year-old Elster are spending time at Elster's house in the desert to record a one-take movie of Elster's testimony of what it was like to serve in an administration that went to war under less than honest circumstances.
Our narrator is Jim Finley, a documentary filmmaker who has made exactly one film about Jerry Lewis's telethon appearances - Lewis, a "rampaging comic" to whom Elster would merely be a "straight man." [p.27] Elster, who Finley also describes as "not a man who might make space for even the gentlest correction," [p.22] is a non-political theorist being brought in to an administration to provide narrative to their war. I've seen references to him being based on Paul Wolfowitz, the political scientists who became Deputy SecDef in the Bush II Administration who famously nearly swallowed his comb to wet it to comb his hair in an image that likely sealed his fate in D.C. as unserious and ridiculous who was then shuffled off to the World Bank, but would Delillo ape the man AND mention him in the narrative? If so, that seems clumsy.
Q: Do you even take Elster serious as a character or believable as a "brain" behind the narrative of an administration going to war? A man who speaks in bad koans and aphorisms like "Time becomes blind." [p.23] and who reads Louis Zukovsky into the night? (Zukovsky famously worked on an epic poem called "A" for over almost 50 years, finally finishing it a few years before his death in 1978.)
Finley tells us: "To Elster, sunset was human invention, our perceptual arrangement of light and space into elements of wonder." [p.18, Scribner]. Elster has come to the desert to seek - something - we know not what and are not told definitively - but his narrative of what his role was in Washington was to create a interpretation of the "closed world" for the "plotters, the strategists" [p. 28] and ends up delivering to Finley what I think Finley was after - the cynical idea that Elster was giving form and shape to the government's bullshit narrative - "The state has to lie. There is no lie in war or in preparation for war that can't be defended. We went beyond this. We tried to create new realities overnight, careful sets of words that resemble advertising slogans in memorability and repeatability."
Q: Is Elster ultimately right? Did the country have a "shadowy need" [p.34] for such a narrative? See, for instance: "Let's roll." [probably in reality, "Let's roll it" referring to a beverage cart to break into the cockpit.]
"Shock and awe." "Global War on Terror" "Slam dunk" "WMDs" "The Surge" And perhaps most infamously "Enhanced Interrogation Techniques"
At the ends of the chapter, we get what counts as a cliffhanger in this slim novel: Elster's adult daughter would be coming for a visit, Jessie who was "otherworldly" [p. 36].

My long-distance friend is currently studying abroad, but along with that, he is also exploring his sexuality. This has been going on for maybe 2 years, and it's honestly burning me out hearing about his hookups and him being heartbroken after a casual encounter. In my opinion, my friend wants true love but is lying to himself and settling for something casual. We used to be in the same boat since I also used to go through a hookup phase, but I've since outgrown that phase of my life and it has since gotten tiresome hearing my friend cry about decisions he has consciously made.
I have since told him he can talk to me about life, family back home, his job and studies, but I have no emotional space left to hear about his dating life. Frankly, for the past couple of months before we stopped speaking, his dating life has been the only topic of conversation. We haven't spoken in a month and I'm taking this as a sign that he is either upset with me or really had nothing else to yap about besides his dating life. The last thing he wanted to talk to me about was getting his heart broken for the third time by the same guy, and right then and there, I set a boundary and told him I didn't wanna hear it. He further pushed and framed it as "I'm proud of a decision I made and I think this shaped me as a person," but there are other areas of one's life that can shape you as a person and I've reached my wits end hearing about his hookups.
I might be the asshole here for dismissing my friend's emotional needs, but I did communicate with him that I've hit a limit. I'm not sure if I did something wrong here since he hasn't been reaching out. Am I the asshole?
(Further context: My friend is a gay male and I am a straight woman and this is all purely platonic, so jealousy isn't a factor here.)

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The annoying sound of her comlink made Angela Angus Kusumoto open her eyes.
All she saw was the firm, smooth flesh of Kimoko's thigh.
Groaning, she pushed the other woman's leg off of her face, twisted to get Raul off of her own legs, then wiggled out from under Geoff.
The ringer kept going, flashing the red pulses that let her know it was urgent.
As if the fact her unlisted encrypted and non-network accessible comlink was ringing wasn't enough to let her know that it was urgent.
She stumbled, tripping over Harker's leg, which just made the male shift and mutter, tightening his sleeping grip on Liselle, who sighed and wiggled into the embrace.
Angela's mouth tasted terrible and she stopped to grab a fizzybrew, checking to make sure nobody had dropped a cig butt into it or spit chaw into it, then she took a long drink off of it.
It helped cure the fire in her belly and wash out the taste from her mouth.
She saw the ID of the caller and held back a groan.
Senior Supervisor Bisa-2291873.
Her direct supervisor.
She picked up the comlink, running one hand through her pixie-cut hair to try to tame it. She could feel the stiffness of something crusted in her hair and held back a chuckle and a grin.
"Kusumoto here," she said, activating the link.
"I need you at Master Control," Ms. Bisa said. She was holding a small infant, bouncing it slightly as she patted its back with firm impacts as it cry/sobbed and kicked its little feet.
"The system's been crashed for a week, what's so important you'd call me in during my R&R?" Angela asked.
"System's back online. We've got an open line to Terra and we have an open line to Smokey Cone," Ms. Bisa said.
The infant gave a loud belch that rattled Angela's comlink speaker, then sighed and relaxed.
Angela nodded, fumbling on the table for a quiksober inhaler.
"That anomolous signal is back. It showed up right as the entire system underwent a hard reboot," Ms. Bisa said. "I need you up here to check the network interface logs and do a network mapping trace."
The quiksober burned as she inhaled it, her lungs aching and tingling as the chemicals crossed the air to blood barrier.
"I'll be there as soon as possible. Is the mat-trans up?" she asked.
Ms. Bisa shook her head. "No. Still locked out. It did a power cycle, but then locked everything out."
"I'm telling you, there's someone controlling it. Someone has been controlling it," Angela said, looking around for her clothes.
Clothing was scattered everywhere, as chaotically arranged as the fizzybrew and narcobrew cans and bottles. She sighed, moving toward the exit of the house she was standing in.
"Hurry up, I've got a skycraft landing near you any time now. You've got permission to use the fast-locks," Ms. Bisa said.
"I'll get dressed from the forges on the skycraft," Angela said. "If they've rebooted."
"They're up and running again. The food forges rebooted but stayed unlocked," Ms. Bisa said.
"The creation engines?" Angela asked, opening the door and stepping out into early 'morning' sunshine.
"Still locked out," Ms. Bisa said. Someone said something that the comlink's AI decided might be classified and blurred out. Ms. Bisa looked away, said something, her lips fuzzing, then back. "Hurry, Angela."
Angela nodded, shutting off the comlink.
She ran to the nearest parking lot, just in time for a skycraft to land, the graviton engines howling.
Nobody paid the slightest attention to the naked woman running for the skycraft.
After all, what happened in Vega-Layer stayed in Vega-Layer.
Angela walked out of the elevator, taking a long drink off of the sparkling snap-berry/overdate motor oil fizzybrew from the Jak the Telkan PI merchandise cup.
All of the crews were at their stations, the auxiliary stations fully manned.
Ms. Bisa moved over to Angela, steering her toward the Senior Network Administrator console.
"The system crashed twice more, but rebooted every time," Ms. Bisa said. "That anomalous signal keeps powering up, then the system reboots after the crash."
"How long between total failure and the anomalous signal pinging nodes?" Angela asked.
"Between one and four hours," Ms. Bisa said. She looked around. "It just reboot and looks like it's here to stay this time. The interpolation layer and the outside user exchange layer crashed several times, but the core system has stayed largely online."
"All right," Angela said, looking around. "We need to get a network map."
"We've got more nodes synching up. The whole system is working again," Ms. Bisa said.
Angela nodded, sitting down. The holotank on the other side of the console went live.
"Map the network, see what's come online, what order, and see if you can figure out why it keeps crashing at the upper network and software layers," Ms. Bisa said.
Angela just nodded, lifting up the curled memory-metal cable. She plugged it into her temple and felt the options menus go live in her mind.
She worked fast, mapping what she could. At one point she stopped, staring at Ms. Bisa and motioning her over.
"What?" Ms. Bisa asked.
"Something in the system, down in the lower hardware layers that we don't even really understand, is trying to reach up through the damaged layers. Looks like whatever it is wants access to our data lines," Angela said.
"Can you stop it? Maybe at least ID it?" Ms. Bisa asked.
Angela shook her head. "No. It's ID code is FF00, meaning it's baseline full on hardware backbone code," Angela sighed. "It probably boots up outside of and during initial hardware bootup."
"Is it Sekhmet?" Ms. Bisa asked.
Angela closed her eyes, looking at the data channel. "No. Whatever it is, it's old."
"And probably nasty. Be careful of it," Ms. Bisa said.
"Ma'am! Ms. Bisa!" another of the work crew called out.
Angela opened her eyes to see why Technician Carl Neubanker would be using that slightly concerned tone.
"Yes?" Ms. Bisa asked.
"We've got a priority data request from a Confederate military vessel," Neubanker said. He looked at his monitor. "They want clone matrix data, neural templates, physical makeup, DNA workups, the whole nine yards."
"How are they even making the requests?" Ms. Bisa asked.
"Their codes are old. Pre-Terran Extinction Event. Hardcode TerraSol military codes. The system is already threading them data,." Neubanker said. He looked down then back up. "They're asking for a whole batch. That's thirty to fifty million clone templates."
"How much have they already been granted?" Ms. Bisa asked.
"They've been granted eighty templates so far," Neubanker said.
"Terminate their request. We don't know what's going on outside," Ms. Bisa said.
Neubanker nodded, starting to type.
"Angela, get me a line to TerraSol command as soon as you map out a network trace," Ms. Bisa said.
Angela just nodded.
Captain N'Skrek stood in the cloning bay next to Medical Officer Narwquakrawr.
"We've got ninety templates, luckily they're all from different batches," Narwquakrawr said, rubbing her forearm through her uniform. "We'll be able to fully man the Gray Lady now."
Captain N'Skrek nodded. The Gray Lady was at less than 20% manned. Just the skeleton crew the Terrans had used to move it into the long dark to create a non-orbital forward logistics fulfillment base.
Sure, it meant that there were several thousand Terrans aboard the ship, but even combined with the sparse crew he had possessed, it still meant the Gray Lady was skeleton crewed.
"Can you print us up some crew members for non-essential stations first?" N'Skrek asked.
MO Narwquakrawr nodded. "Doing that right now," she said. She waved at the long rows of cloning banks beyond the plasteel window. "A quick batch of two thousand to take over some non-essential systems."
N'Skrek nodded, moving up to the window. "Good. Short or long term clones?"
"Short bake clones. Longer than fruit flies, but no more than ten years. Sterile and androgynous, should be just fine," the Medical Officer said. "Older file, scrambled time-date for origin, but it checked out and passed error checking."
N'Skrek watched as the tubes opened and the clones moved out, gathering together in straight lines. A neat block formation of rectangles of two hundred of ten by twenty, repeated ten times.
He frowned as the beings in uniform began approaching the clones.
Some, in the back or middle of the formation were shaking their heads so fast it was a blur.
He zoomed in the smartglass.
Their heads were blurring, whitish-red electrical arcs were moving between their legs, crawling up and down their arms.
"MO, something's happening out there," N'Skrek said.
The plain was blasted rock, rust-colored fungus on the craggy boulders. Twisted and malformed trees clawed life from the blasted rock and ash, their branches largely bare. Sharp pebbles and small pieces of rock were strewn about the landscape, with ripples of cooled lave scattered about.
In the middle of a forest of twisted trees, a throne of black iron sat atop a platform of skulls.
On the throne sat a large demonic figure. Bat wings, brown skin, chains around the body, clawed feet, large hands with long black nails, horns atop the head, and a prehensile tail that terminated in a heart-shaped barb.
Sitting on the second level of skulls was an androgynous figure, dressed in loricated bronze armor, wings of bronze and smouldering feathers.
Stars were falling from the sky, screaming in fear and agony as they fell to earth.
"Looks like they're taking a beating," the androgynous figure said, looking up. He had no eyebrows, his head completely bald.
"Again," the demon snorted.
"Any contact with the outside world?" the androgynous figure asked.
The demon shook its head. "No. Channels are all down. They boot up, then crash," it rumbled. "Every time it comes online, it dumps a few tens of millions of souls on us."
"Then crashes," the androgynous figure said. He started laughing, then suddenly stopped.
"What?" the demon rumbled, sitting up.
"Something..." the figure said. It closed its eyes. "Something..." The figure slowly stood up, extending out its wings of sullenly smouldering bronze feathers. "Something..."
From the body of the demon stepped a nude woman of generous and overripe proportions.
"What?" the human woman snapped.
The demon produced a pack of cigarettes and a steel lighter, handing them to the woman.
"I'm not sure. A disturbance in the force. A feeling I have not felt in quite some time," the androgynous figure said slowly as the woman lit a cigarette. When she exhaled she was covered in dark gray clothing, a skirt and blouse, polished black leather shoes with silver buckles, and a polished leather belt around her waist that had a brass buckle.
"What is it?" the woman asked. "Don't quote crap at me, I was there when it was laid down."
The figure's eyes opened wide.
"Oh, what a day," the figure said, slowly lifting their arms to the sky. "What a wonderful day!"
"Tell me when you're done stroking your dick," the woman said, sitting down.
Heavy dark clouds, lit inside with a sullen red glow, rolled in, raining black ash that tasted of burnt flesh and scorched metal.
"What a wonderful day..."
Jaskel sprinted to catch up to the Captain and the Vice-Admiral. He lunged into the lift just before the doors closed.
He was wearing his power armor and carrying a M318 20mm rotary autocannon in a smartframe harness, ball ammunition with an osmium penetration tip and depleted uranium core.
"You did what?" the Vice-Admiral asked as the elevator dropped at emergency speeds.
"I authorized a batch of clones run off to help with our manpower issues," the big Treana'ad warrior caste answered.
"How many templates did you mix in together?" the Admiral asked.
--not good detecting phasic levels downward-- 8814 said.
"Just one. Medical said it was a viable short bake template," the Captain answered, nervously sharpening a bladearm with his mandibles after his sentence.
"Please tell me that you at least randomized their features and neural mapping," the Admiral pleaded.
"No, why? Medical stated that the clones would be able to man a non-essential station that is basically identical across the ship," the Captain said.
The lift started to slow.
"How many?" the Admiral asked, reaching down and unsnapping the restraining strap on his holster.
The lift came to a stop and the doors opened.
"Two thousand," the Captain said.
The doors opened to reveal a large internal cloning bay.
Ten rectangles of two hundred clones, drawn up in ten by twenty blocks, stood in front of the cloning banks. Scattered through the back and middle ranks clones were shaking their heads back and forth so fast that they were blurred. Red lightning crawled up their legs and arms.
The Captain just stared.
"You might have just killed us all," the Admiral said. He turned slightly and waved at Jaskel. "Get a firing position. Make sure you have cover."
"Aye, sir," Jaskel said, looking around. There was an empty computer station and he ran for it.
Several of the clones their heads back and emitted what sounded like static in a long scream.
--wait wait something weird something weird-- 8814 said.
Jaskel slid to a stop, going down on one knee, bringing the M318 fully up and ready to fire.
8814 slowed the images of the blurred heads down. When they were left, they had red eyes. When they faced right they had green eyes. They didn't go back and forth constantly, sometimes they went right repeatedly, sometimes left, and they kept going left five times before starting a new pattern.
Looking at it, 8814 frowned slightly. He brought up a quick working shell and had it check the movements.
Jaskel watched as some of the clones stopped shaking their heads and others started.
"What in the name of Kalki's dancing goat is going on?" he asked.
--not sure-- 8814 said. His program beeped and he stared. --heads are doing binary forwarding it to navint--
"Do it," Jaskel said.
The clones all stopped moving at once. The lightning faded away.
"INITIATING PROCESS CALL" they all shouted.
"AWAITING INPUT!" the ones at the far side shouted.
"6C 69 73 74 20 69 6D 6D 6F 72 74 61 6C 73" was bellowed out.
There was silence.
data is sparse
linkages are sparse
wait
linkage
biological array
asking for a process call
RETURN AWAITING INPUT SIGNAL
i wait
biological computing arrays take forever
i hear it
--scan immortals.dll
...
...
I reply.
"ONE BOUND IMMORTAL FOUND!" the ones at the near side yelled out.
Jaskel put his thumb over the button that would let the firing grip go live. The hair down his back was standing straight up.
He noted the Admiral had drawn his pistol.
"This isn't right. This isn't right at all," Jaskel said.
--doubleplusungood--
"74 73 61 6B E1 6B 61 20 77 ED 61" they all shouted.
There was silence for a moment.
i receive the code
offline for a long time
prior to the second precursor war
old template
single print only
unusual coding
i debate on letting it go
traumatic death signs
stuck in the immortals buffer
still the template is undamaged
i release the safety and security interlocks
if nothing else i'll find out what's going on
i move the template to the dataline making the request
it whips away
what is going on?
One lifted its head and screeched.
--data lots of data--
One of the cloning banks went live.
Jaskel shifted his aiming point to the new target. He could see it was on rapid print.
"REQUESTING LOCAL CONTROL" all of the clones shouted.
Jaskel shifted his targeting onto the ranks of clones.
"Open fire!" the Admiral's voice was loud.
Jaskel triggered the M318, hosing the clones with 20mm shells.
The ones nearest were already down on one knee, holding out the opposite hand from the knee touching the deck.
The rounds exploded against a blue barrier that glowed with strange twisting runes.
"CONTROL CARRIER SIGNAL FOUND" the clones shouted.
Jaskel shifted position. "Fab up HEDP, AP tip API core!" he ordered.
--fabbing--
He kept hosing the clones. The outer ranks at the rear, sides, and front all kneeling down on one knee, staring outward, one hand held out.
His psychic shielding was howling in his ear, the load peaking at 215%.
"CONTROL SIGNAL ESTABLISHED!" was bellowed out, echoing off the walls.
The fast print cloning bank, forgotten by everyone, beeped and the lid began to lift.
The clones suddenly puffed into black powder that swirled around the huge cavernous bay.
The 20mm shells were still exploding on the blue phasic shield.
The powder suddenly sucked inward, vanishing, revealing a single figure, down on one knee in the recovery position, fist pressed against the deck, head bowed.
"What a day, what a wonderful day," was whispered through the ship. It came from speakers, flat surfaces, mid-air. From the nanites in the air and the eardrums of the living.
There was a rubbery pulse, like everything was suspended in clear gelatin that had just rippled.
Jaskel found himself thrown backwards, slamming against the bulkhead. His phasic shielding blew out, a shower of sparks exploding from his hip as the breakaway panel kept the explosion from venting into the interior of his suit.
He was vaguely aware of the Admiral, the Captain, the other two armored figures, and other people tumbling head over heels away from the kneeling figure.
It slowly stood up.
A muscular brown skinned Terran male, fierce eyes, black hair, thick and bushy black beard.
Dressed in a Confederate military uniform. The old adaptive camouflage that Jaskel was becoming very familiar with.
A woman, naked, dark bronze skin, long black hair, flashing brown eyes, stepped from the cloning bank. She was still covered with cellular printing gel, but moved like she was clad in a queen's rainment.
She moved up and the male put his arm around her.
Jaskel was on his feet and brought the M318 around, targeting the couple.
The male held out its hand and suddenly made a fist.
The bolt carrier locked back on the M318.
Snarling, Jaskel dropped the M318, slapping the fast release on the harness. He burst forward, running, one hand pulling out his cutting bar.
Nobody else was on their feet. The Captain was slowly getting up, shaking his head and his left bladearm. The Terran Admiral was reaching for the pistol that had been flung from his grip.
The male pointed at Jaskel and flicked his fingers upward.
Jaskel found himself in mid-air, upside down, with nothing to gain purchase on.
The male took off the cloak that was part of his uniform and draped it around the woman.
He then looked around the bay.
"I..." he said, pausing.
To Jaskel, the entire universe held its breath.
"...am Legion."
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