I am twenty three years old and about to be twenty four. To society, I am male, sometimes I think about having a different persona than male though. Such as being neither male or female or my gender blending between the two. I was diagnosed with social anxiety in my teenage years and later developed into general anxiety disorder. I also am schizo, it mostly comes through sounds and sometimes small visions. Also, I deal with depression on a daily basis. Sometimes I wake up and do not want to be alive or other days I hear a sound that only I can hear to put it into context.
My upbringing consisted of my mom wanting us to attend church and learn about Jesus, the bible, Christianity. But I never truly believed in it even as a child, even when forced. And, I never attended church either, it was just something my mother would have liked us to do. I mainly became more spiritual as I grew older and it gave me a more open outlook if I do decide to have kids. I did feel bad, and even now that I did not follow the same religion as her. I try to be an agnostic regarding God as a whole.
If I spent a weekend by myself, it would feel refreshing to be honest. I like silence, to hear my thoughts when I am in that relaxed state. External noise is very bothersome to me and it troubles me to concentrate. Being alone never bothered me, I feel powerful when I am alone. I prefer activities that are at my house, so gaming, reading, drawing, typing, writing, etc.
Sports at a young age, I was involved in but it felt forced upon my parents. My dad would claim the opposite, but it felt forced since I was put into football, baseball, and basketball, and I always had mixed feelings about those sports specifically and made me feel like an outcast to this day. Even though those sports are not my favorite, they taught me what I actually do like instead. Such as table tennis and bowling, and e-sports. I never understood the reason sports are popular, or why some people are gifted with special abilities at birth, but I am ok at some sports, good at some, and bad at others such as golf.
I am relatively curious, I'd say, not necessarily ideas that I want to execute. But, they are just my curiosities about the world, like is there really a God, or does gmo food cause cancer, and just things like that, sometimes taboo. I never liked leading something, it felt like there was too much pressure on me or something. If I tried it, I might be decent at it, who knows? But I prefer to not lead, and feel I would be bad at it anyways, so why try? My leadership style would just make sure everyone’s on the same page and treat everyone equally. I think I am coordinated, I don't really like using my hands though I would rather just think about it.
Artistic? I mean kind of, I did film photography, and enjoyed that. My film photography was dark and I was told it seemed to have hidden meaning behind it. Sometimes I draw in my journal with pencil sketches and that is it. I appreciate the aesthetic of pencil only drawings. I like to do it but I sometimes think it looks bad, sometimes good. That is why art is subjective to me.
The past is something that can help with the future and present, but you do not have to rely on it. The present is whatever to me, very mundane. I like to put emphasis on the future, since that gives you an opportunity to grow in some way.
When someone asks for my help, I usually do not want to do it, probably due to my laziness. But if I do decide to help I would do it because I am being forced to. I would say logical consistency is important to me, so yes. Efficiency and productivity are important to me given what context it is. I do not control others, I feel more controlled if anything. My hobbies are collecting expensive pokemon cards, reading, and typing. My learning style is unknown to me, I struggle with loud learning environments and if there is more than one person. I struggle with those things due to my social anxiety. Classes in general give me anxiety unless they are online but I prefer a creative class I think such as the photography class.
I am ok at strategizing I guess, I do a combination of having a structure and improvising. Something important to me is finding a potential partner, having a good education, and finding peace within myself. My aspiration is to love myself deeply. My fear is losing my memory, having cancer, or the fear of holes, makes my skin itch. I would hate it if I was called ignorant or stupid to be honest because that seems like the worst to me. A “high” in my life would be talking to my dad about my dreams in life while on the porch. It feels good to know there is a decent foundation regarding my dad and I even though we do not talk much. A “low” in my life would be having to go through the mental health situations that I can never forget.
I am attached to reality, but often see myself dreaming of being somewhere else, or being someone else, or putting myself into someone else's shoes and see how it feels. When I day dream it can sometimes feel like the world stops and I am in motion while everything stops.
If I was alone in a room, an empty, isolated room. I would think about my parents or even my brothers. Or, how to get out of this inevitable death we call life. If I had to make an important decision, it would take me a long time I feel. But, if I make a decision on something I do not usually change my mind though unless what I did was really irrational. My sad emotions are of great importance to me, sometimes I feel I do not cry enough because it feels so good when I do cry. It could take me hours to express my emotions or realize them.
I appease others a lot. I feel unnecessarily, mainly because I am a peaceful person and will do things to keep it so. But, then again I am not really a conversationalist to begin with. So it makes it seem I am a people pleaser possibly? But, in reality… I would really just like to get out of the situation I am in.
To be honest, I rarely break rules. But, sometimes do think authority should be challenged in some way or they might think they rule over more than what they have.

Well, Hi all! again! 4Th Wall here, I figured since I just got power back, I might as well play some catch up on both series. Hope you enjoy this episode!!
Yup, I fucked that up. This is a repost with the correct Episode number, LOL! It's been a while since I've done that.
First, Previous, Next (Patreon)
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Benjamin smiled, watching the girls skip ahead of him. Today was a testing day of sorts for him. Unwilling to release firearms into this world haphazardly, yet unwilling to go without them as a backup; he had pulled from one of his sister’s favorite video games. He had “melted down” his bowie knife, repurposing the metal to be used in his latest creation. The final product rode on his hip like a short sword, but Ben was satisfied in the design when the vast majority of the people he passed ignored it as just another adventurer’s blade. Benjamin hoped, that with the existence of Majik, that he would be able to pass off any… peculiarities... as the realm of the supernatural.

The three of them arrived at the tailor’s establishment, and the girls were met with a customary indifference that seemed to present itself when a slave’s “master” was present. The moment Benjamin entered, the seamstress ceased to pay attention to the girls, and instead addressed him directly, “Ah, The Forgemaster’s Protégé. What can I do for you this day.” She said cooly, bowing slightly in welcome. “I’m here commission some clothing for these two, a reward for good service.” Benjamin began. It was technically true; the success of the forge had afforded him much more coin than a mere apprentice could have made. Qort had taken him on as a true partner, and Benjamin earned enough to comfortably afford to cloth his “slaves” in whatever he chose.

Some stigma’s remained however, and the seamstress seemed to glare sideways at the girls as they perused the fabrics adorning the walls. “Is that wise? A slave could lose her place with such gifts.” she asked, her polite tone barely hiding her disapproval. Benjamin sighed internally, ‘oh for fucks sake’ he groaned in his own mind before putting on facad, “I find that proper reward, afforded on the right servant can result in” he paused, projecting a smug expression and blatantly looking the girls up and down. “a profound dedication to their duties” he finished with a satisfied smile as the seamstress covered her mouth with a hand to hide a smile of her own. The gambit worked, and the Seamstress was obviously satisfied that the “Aereesen slave whores” were being properly “used”. “Ah, I understand. What did you have in mind for them.” She practically moaned back at Benjamin. ‘This hag needs a good pounding….’ Benjamin’s inner monologue threatened to crack his facade, “That’s the fun part, my good lady. It’s their choice. The surprise is half the excitement.” He chuckled.

The seamstress openly smiled at him this time before nodding and stepping over to the two girls. Benjamin breathed a sigh of relief as she seemed to treat them at least marginally more warmly. The old racist bag didn’t need to know that Benjamin was secretly building a small nest egg for his girls, or that his sending them out to do errands for him was how he was teaching them about money, value, and the application of Mathematics. She also didn’t need to know that the full Cutlery set that she had purchased last week had been made by Vi’s own hand as her first full solo commission set. Benjamin had stamped his “mark” on them, because slaves were not allowed to own anything, including their own work; but Vi had begun with raw steel and finished with one of the finest cooking knife sets he had seen in this world or his.

Benjamin settled onto a bench outside, using the excuse of wanting to enjoy the morning air to afford his girls some privacy. Now that Viola and Valtrya were eating a healthy diet, and the right calorie amount; they had blossomed into absolute bombshells. Their hair had recovered, and both sported long flowing locks that boasted a silky satin black color and texture that betrayed hints of deep royal purple. The color reminded Benjamin of one of those expensive custom car paints that changed color depending on the lighting.

Their skin recovered almost as quickly as their hair. The sickly, scabbed look was quickly replaced with the same satin quality as their hair to the touch, but with a light grey coloring that almost seemed to tease the edge of hinting at a greyish purple. A dense pattern of Small freckles of the same dark, almost royal, purple as the highlights in their hair frolicked on both girl’s cheeks, and down the sides of their necks. Because of their early lack of understanding on modestly, Ben knew that those freckles traveled much further. The sad truth was that Benjamin understood fully why Aereesen’s were the prize of slavers and brothels, and he silently prayed that he could give them enough self-worth and skill to have a better life than that, once he got them out of the Principality.

A door’s soft creaking broke Benjamin from his thoughts as the two sisters stepped out smiling, “Get everything you need?” he asked standing as the three of them departed the establishment. Val nodded vigorously, and Vi smiled as she spoke, “I think so, but I had to practically beg the woman to stop showing us lingerie… what did you tell her?” Benjamin felt his cheeks heat as he responded, “What I had to. The old hag doesn’t get enough at home. It’s not my fault that your ‘enthusiasm’ is in the forge and your studies, not between the sheets. I didn’t lie to her, I just let her draw her own conclusions, sorry.”

Vi’s eyes twinkled for a second, “Oh,” She smirked, “Thaaat’s why she broke out the silk. Some of her options were..” She blatantly bit her lip at Benjamin. “You didn’t…” He asked in shock, and Vi lifted up on her tippy toes to brush her lips against his ear, “Not telling” she purred, setting Bens senses on fire. She backed up a step, openly smirking at his beet red face. “But your expression is adorable… My Lord” She stated the last two words with a deep sultry tone, knowing that Ben couldn’t scold her in public before taking his hand, “May we visit the bazar next? Val saw some jewelry she wanted to look at.” Benjamin gave her a pointed look, that turned into a smile as she beamed at him, “Ok, sounds good. I need to pick up some food for the week.”

It was later that afternoon when the three of them left the bazar. They found Jukha waiting on the bench in front of their home. “Jukha! How are you!” Benjamin called, clasping the Orc’s hand firmly as the girls rushed inside to put up their purchases. Jukha reciprocated, if somewhat stiffly, to the strange to him gesture. “Benjamin, it is good to see you well.” His tone stopped Ben in his tracks, “What is it. Is your wife, ok?”
Jukha shook his head, “Vilora is well, but I have been tasked with finding you.” He said carefully, “The slaver, the one you dueled for those two,” he nodded to Vi and Val as they stepped back out of the building, “The Heir of The Romoregin house is here. He has lodged an official demand for satisfaction, and he brought a champion.”

Benjamin stiffened, “Another duel? You said an ‘official demand’… what happens if I refuse.” Jukha winced at Ben’s tone, “It is an archaic practice of my people, rarely remembered, and even more rarely demanded. You cannot deny a satisfaction claim, but should you prevail, no further claims can be made upon your person. I am sorry Benjamin, but if you flee or refuse, your life is forfeit; and your property goes to the claimant.” Jukha looked pointedly at Viola and Valtrya. “The young puke has put me in danger as well, if I do not deliver you and them to the duel, I can be detained. If they torture me….” Benjamin’s eyes widened before hardening in understanding. “Jukha…” He turned to find Viola standing next to him, with his musket in one arm and his ammunition bag in the other, and sighed, “Fuck”. He loaded his musket with a single roundball cartridge this time, unwilling to fire buck and ball in the town streets. He pealed the ball out of the paper wading after pouring the poweder, reaching into his haversack to retrieve a small round patch made of pillow ticking. Jukha looked on in mild fascination as Benjamin spit on the cloth patch before wrapping the ball in it and ramming the whole thing down the barrel. It wasn’t much, but it reduce windage, ensuring at least reasonable enough accuracy from the smoothbore to keep from hitting innocent bystanders. It would also virtually eliminate blow-by, upping the chamber pressure and giving him a little more velocity. “I’m ready.”

The four of them entered the small city square to be met with Qort and three Org guards. These soldiers wore different insignia that Benjamin had been taught were the mark of the capital. “Beenjaymen Shayfe” one of them butchered his name, “I am.” Ben nodded firmly, the other guard nodded, “And your two slaves, good. Has Jukha informed you of the proceedings.” Benjamin scowled, “A legalized way to attempt a revenge killing? Yea, I’ve been told.” Ben didn’t bother to hide his vitriol, “So I have to kill a motherfucker for defending myself from his father?”

“Not quite. The Heir has brought a champion. The rules are simple, all forms of combat are allowed” The first guard began as the second one began chaining the wrists of Viola and Valtrya. Benjamin began to move before thinking, only to be held back by Jukha, “Peace albino. They must do this. Fighting them will cause a forfeit.” Benjamin looked at the terrified faces of the two girls. He forced himself to calm down outwardly, but Benjamin could feel the rage building. He had worked so hard to save those two, to get them out.. now some snot nosed brat was going to try to kill him because his father didn’t know when to fuck off. Benjamin stepped out from around the guards. The “heir” was a young Durr. Ben had no frame of reference for age, but the Heir was substantially shorter, and his facial tentacles were almost mere buds. Beside him stood a crimson colossus, the same species as the Hunter he had shot saving Jukha. He was taller than that female, and was wearing plate armor, gilded in silver. He hefted a great sword of some kind and smiled openly at Benjamin. It was not a pleasant expression. “Ah, so You’re the puke I’ll be cleaning from my blade. I am Krastorin. Come here, pale one, I’ll make it quick.”

Benjamin looked him over, subtly shifting into a shooting stance but keeping his musket looking like he was resting the butt of a spear on the ground. “You look accomplished, what makes you do the bidding of the boy.” He asked, blatant scorn on his tone. The Young Durr flinched, his small tentacle buds writhing violently. “H’Dare Yee!” he bellowed, voice cracking with the strain of fury, “Aye’ll ‘ave Yee Head on Me’Wall!!”
Benjamin ignored him, focusing on the Hellirine. The man looked back at the boy with a raised eyebrow, “The young puke promised me one of those.” He pointed at Vi and Val, who had reverted to their former trembling submissive postures that Ben had met them in. “It appears that they are as well kept as claimed. I look forward to sampling them.” He leered. Benjamin looked over at the Young Durr and found his face a mixture of relief and anger. ‘Ah, lied about daddy’s slaves.’ He turned to the soldier standing next to him, “Is the duel on?” he growled.

“Combatants! Begin!” was the Soldiers response, and the crimson mercenary lifted his sword from his shoulders advancing forward with a long confident stride, “at last, let’s get this over wi..” a clap of thunder echo’d through the Feral wood, and most of the crowd cried out in surprise as Benjamin disappeared, seemingly behind a bubble of fire, and brimstone. The single round ball ignored the mercenary’s plate armor. Punching straight through as the soft lead mushroomed out into a ragged disk that measured almost an inch and a half. The mangled projectile, still travelling at almost half the speed of sound, eviscerated the chest cavity of the Mercenary before blowing a one foot wide hole out of the crimson man’s back. The exit wound missed Krastorin’s spine by an inch, but it didn’t matter. The projectile embedded itself into a post, thankfully missing any bystanders by mere inches in some cases. The Young Durr, who was standing just behind and to the side of his champion, was screaming as he pawed at the bits of pale yellow blood, bones, and fragments of internal organs now covering him from head to toe.

Benjamin handed the smoking musket to Jukha, drawing his short sword and walking over to a sputtering, choking, and coughing Krastorin. The Hellirine lay face down on the ground, having fallen that way from the momentum of his initial advance. The back of Benjamins mind was sickly amused as he remembered the old Hollywood trope of bullets throwing people backward, and a pinch of regret sparked in his soul as his opponent death rattled. He stepped up to the Heir, resting the blade against his neck, “Are we done here. Be a better man than your father and learn when to save your own life.” The Young Durr froze, staring up at him in abject terror for several moments as a puddle formed at his feet. Benjamin opened his mouth to speak again when the boy simply passed out, falling into the puddle of his own mess as his mind refused to stay conscious.

Benjamin turned to walk back towards Jukha and the girls. “Unchain them.” Benjamin’s tone could have frozen a raging forge’s inferno. To his surprise, two of the soldiers drew their weapons on him, “You need to come with us. All Touched must be registered with...” Benjamin pointed his short sword at the one talking… and pulled the trigger. The percussion revolver built into the hilt of the short sword was zero’d using a notch Benjamin cut into the crossguard, and the tip of the curved blade as a crude set of open sights. The barrel of the revolver lay along one side of the blade, and was rifled. The speaking soldier orc’s took the smaller pistol round through the forehead, exploding the back of his skull in a cone of dark green and grey mist. The exit wound showered his companion in bits of bone and brains. Benjamin’s thumb found the hammer, and four satisfying clicks echo’d in the stunned silence, “HEAR ME!” He growled, “I, am touched by the Gods. I posses the power to end any life I choose using the power of Hell itself!” ‘if I have to show them a gun, might as well throw them off the trail’ “The violence of the raging volcano obeys my very fingertips.” His revolvesword bucked a second time as another soldier orc made a move to rush him. The smaller pistol round still punched through the orcs armor and out the back, but only left him screaming on the ground. Benjamin re-cocked, and leveled his weapon at the orc holding the chains to Val and Vi. “Now, release them.” This last remaining Orc did as asked, before gathering up his screaming companion as the girls rushed to Benjamin, he pulled them close, whispering, “I’m sorry we wont be able to pick up your dresses.”

The three of them packed up that night. Qort had understood, knowing all too well what the Principality would do to acquire a Touched of Benjamins ability. “Stay safe my friend. I pray our paths cross again.” Jukha snuck them out of the village that night, using his wagon to get them to his home. They stayed a week, laying low while they planned their next move. The girls spent their time learning recipes from Jukha’s wife, and ben took the time to unwind a bit. Jukha and He went on a hunt, and Benjamin was given a run down on the flora and fauna of the Feral wood. The two of them brought back a pair of Stags, and the three women cooked them a feast.

“Dinner’s ready!!” called Viola, setting the last of the sides on the table as the dutch oven roasted meat was brought off of the stove top. It was a simple yet elegant meal. Stag, potatoes, some kind of Kale style vegetable that Benjamin had never seen before. Soon enough, everyone at the table was leaning back, as full as they could make themselves. “So, pinkskin,” Jukha asked, “Where do you plan on going. I wouldn’t mind you staying with me. I could use another hunter, but I suspect that they would notice the extra product I brought to the village.”

Benjamin Hummed, “The Maridian Combine. Qort told me that they banned slavery over a century ago, the girls have learned so much already. It would be easy to find jobs for them.” Vi and Val drooped slightly but hid it well. Jukha noticed it but said nothing. “A good choice, their boarders are well guarded, you would need to free them before you cross, or end up in a dungeon yourself.”

“Good point, I can write up a simple writ of freedom. Something I can sign and give to them.” Benjamin nodded, “I can get started on that to…” he paused as a hand fell on his. He looked to see Viola staring at him, fighting back tears, “Hey, what’s wrong. You will be free…” Jukha nodded slowly and stood. “love,” he said to Vilora, “I need some help with the livestock” The Farie met his eyes in unspoken understanding, fluttering out the front door with Jukha.

“Vi, what’s wrong.” Benjamin asked gently.

“No… go… Val… stay…” Both of them turned to Valtrya in shock. She was trembling, “I wont..leave.”

“You speak?” Benjamin looked in shock, but Viola spoke next, “Benjamin, we don’t want to leave. We want to stay, with you. I…” She paused. Ben sighed, “I want you to stay too.” He said, finally admitting it to himself, “But I can’t own you. It’s killing me that you are my property.” He reached up and wiped a tear from Vi’s eyes, “You are so much more than property. I feel evil, every day that I wake up knowing that I could do anything I wanted to you, or worse, die and have someone else hurt you for the fun of it.” Benjamin bowed his head. Viola reached out, lifting his chin to look into his eyes, “Then come with us.” She whispered as Val stood up and stepped around the table, “yes.. You, come.” She wrapped herself around Ben from the side leaning in until she was resting her head against his shoulder, “I’m… staying.. with you.” she said softly. Viola nodded, “Benjamin, how old do you think we are.”

Ben looked at her in confusion, “I have no idea, I’ve always assumed you were teenagers. 13-14 years old for Val, maybe 16 for you, but that was when you were skin and bones.” He admitted.

Viola’s eyes widened in understanding. “You did not want to bed us because you thought us children.” Benjamin nodded slowly, answering. “And forcing sex on a child is the worst kind of crime on my world”. Viola and Valtrya looked at each other, before Vi spoke. “Ben, my sister will turn one hundred and three in a fortnight. I just had my one hundred and fifteenth birthday last week.” She leaned in, pressing her lips to Bens as she kissed him passionately for a moment. “We are no children,” Viola paused as Valtrya leaned in, kissing Ben lightly on the neck, “You are not forcing us to do anything, but leave.” Viola whispered as she began to close in to a surprised Benjamin for another kiss.

The door to the cabin flew open violently, and the girls pulled back to a more modest distance. Jukha walked in, carrying a panting Vilora. “What happened.” Ben asked hurriedly, hoping he wasn’t blushing as hard as the heat on his cheeks suggested. Vilora waved a hand as Jukha set her down in her chair, “The Vin… My sisters… they reached out… They wish to meet…” The Farie gathered herself, “They also sent a warning. We must leave, tonight… hunters.”
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If you made it this far, I very much appreciate it. I hope you enjoyed the episode! If you believe I have earned it, I have a Patreon that is two episodes ahead of the free releases for this series. I hope you feel taking a look is worth it. Either way, come hang out in the comments. Everyone's welcome! I've discovered Im a bit of a "warts and all" poster, so even critical comments are welcome. Hell, You might even teach me something (it happens more than I'd like to admit).
I have heard people off and on reference Royal road, So I am going to give it another shot. I'll be adding the Royal Road link from now on. If you like reading over there, It is on the same schedule as here. I would greatly appreciate a like/review/comment if you feel so inclined. Thank you again for stopping by.
First, Previous, Next (Patreon) Royal Road

Hi. I’m making a conlang (no shit), and I need some advice. I’m not a linguist. I have zero background in linguistics, and every time I’ve tried to learn some, it all goes over my head. Keeping this in mind, I’m doing a (probably) horrible job of constructing my conlang, since I’m throwing anything that confuses me out the window, and I’m doing my own method.
I’ll get into the other stuff I’m doing in a second, but I want to get this more important question out first. I’m on this website that says what the most common verbs, nouns, adjectives, etc are in English. My plan is to write most of them down and come up with the words in my conlang for them later on. Is this the best way to go about this?
The entire way I’m doing this is not the best, but it’s the best way I’VE found (so far) since I’m fucking stupid and can’t pick up some “basic” linguistic knowledge. Anyways, I asked ChatGPT to make a language for me, and it didn’t. So I took what it said and executed it to the best of my ability. Now I just ask it what a good word in my conlang would be for an English word. Ex - I asked what a good word for “do” would be and it said “fet”. This is how I’ve gotten most of my words.
I’m not making a “phonology” (whatever the fuck that is) and I’m not making some fancy writing system. I’m just keeping the same English letters, and spelling it how the words in my conlang are pronounced. So if I wanted to write, “How are you?” It would be “Zol fon sen?” or the shortened version (non-formal and used more often) would be “Zeon?” And it would be pronounced exactly how it looks/how you think.
I hope this makes sense, because it does to me. I just don’t know if this is the best way to make my conlang. It seems to be working so far, but I’m not sure where it will take me in the future. So, to sum it up:
I’m wondering if this is a good enough way to go about making a conlang? (Given my circumstances which are being too dumb to understand linguistics and needing it to be easy enough to successfully execute) If not, what is a better way?

Idk ive been told that im holding onto nostolgia too much by people and that Serj is "self centered" and the band shouldve kicked him out because he was unimportant and we all need to move on. Am I insane for thinking thats all just not right? I feel like no new music is better than daron,shavo ,and john making music with a new person with new ideologies,writing style,vocals,emotions,experiences,ect while trying to imitate Serj would just be awful and no new music would be heavily perfered. In my opinion all 4 of them need to be in the band for it to truly be system of a down,as SOAD is one of those bands that you cant just "replace" one member because of the unique style they have

Hi guys! As I am halfway through my novel, I decided to attempt a query letter for practice and would love some criticism and advice. This is my first novel so I don’t mind if you need to rip it to pieces! This style of writing definitely doesn’t come naturally to me. Comp ideas for me to check out would be very appreciated too!
(Insert opening paragraph)
Seventeen-year-old Kiya has been running from death for as long as she can remember. Born human in a world of God-blessed people, her half-jackal tribemates see her weaknesses as a death sentence. Kept alive only due to the fierce protection of her adoptive parents, the Chief and Chieftess of her tribe, Kiya will do anything to prove herself as a worthy member. Maybe then, she could live without constantly looking over her shoulder.
With the Coming of the Decennium – a transnational tournament hosted in celebration of the five Gods – Kiya sees her chance for glory and respect. But death isn’t finished with her yet. Her quick wits earn her a position in a team but at a cost, as sixty-eight tribe entrees are murdered by a mysterious, elusive killer during the trials. And later during the Decennium, the same killer seems to be targeting the other Champions.
As the only common link between the murders, Kiya’s position in her team is threatened. Desperate to prove herself innocent, she befriends Siaki Sunlance, a prince and fellow Champion with the strange ability to breathe fire. He believes that a greater force is at play. Their investigation leads them to a disturbing discovery – the revival of a long dead Primordial Goddess and a plot steeped in murder to sabotage the fragile peace between the nations. Worst of all, they discover that Kiya is the key to this plan, as the power of death itself runs through her veins.
Caught between her desire for glory, her fate as a Goddesses pawn and her burgeoning feelings for Prince Siaki, Kiya will have to decide what is more important: the future of her nation or the glory she covets. And if she doesn’t act quickly, death might finally catch up to her.
First 300:
Kiya stood in the mountain pass in the dark hours of the dawn, meticulously planning her own funeral. It would be small, she contemplated, wiping her stinging nose with the back of her hand. After all, not many people would bother mourning the death of a Godless. She imagined her parents standing before a burning pyre, watching her broken body smoulder, clutching each other with tears in their eyes. Despite her best efforts to smother it, anticipatory dread twisted like a dull knife in her gut.
Exhaling slowly, Kiya cast her eyes upward and watched the condensation from her breath curl and dissipate into the chill of the desert morning. The dawn sky was cloudless and coloured an unusually beautiful shade of lilac blue. She knew better than to get used to the weather—as soon as the sun crested the dusty horizon behind her, the heat would drain the life out of everything the light touched. And when it fell in the evening, the bitter cold would kill anything that remained. Shivering, Kiya braced herself as a cold gust of wind howled through the passage. The temperature was just one of many on the list of things that would lead to her eventual and seemingly inevitable death.
The worst part of waiting was the silence. Standing trembling in the narrow pass, Kiya tried her best to peer around the restless lyceans who packed the ravine right to its malevolent black walls. Usually loud and raucous, they shifted on their furred paws and resolutely ignored each other, and she could swear that their apprehension was hanging physically in the air like some heavy blanket of fog.

After much consideration, and planning, I am going to return to video production. When I began making videos on a weekly or monthly basis, I had plenty of free time due to the big coof. This was me learning things like scheduling, editing, how to make the microphone work, and I learned plenty through trial and error. There is a dramatic difference between my first videos and my recent ones because of this learning experience. But as I learned about how to make videos, I learned that I was wasting my time with them.
A LOT of time.
Whatever you’re thinking is a time waste for a video is not really it, unless you’ve been there and done that. During that time, I ruined my sleep schedule and would even pass up on small money opportunities, all because I thought my Youtube videos would send me into stardom. Plant a seed, watch it grow, that sort of thing. But, looking at my numbers, it was the exact opposite. Each video coming out, utilizing the keywords and subject matter as a reason to click, was essentially a false sense of activity.
Working on other people’s channels created even more false cases of activity, which created a false sense of justifying why I’m putting labor into something.
Like most artists, I was gaslighting myself into thinking that the time spent into a project was going to translate into a future income from something else. We always see these videos where it seems zero effort was put into it and it goes viral, not realizing that years of failing and group efforts were required to reach those results. And even then, a youtube video existing doesn’t cause a person to instantly gain money from that existence. I have a friend who made a viral video and he didn’t get anything from millions of views, because there was nothing to monetize. I have another friend who made a viral video, trying to recreate the magic, and nothing came of it after a year or two of trying.
Not only is it hard to receive results, but the amount of time it takes to attempt is ridiculous. I didn’t time myself, but if I knew how many hours were sunk into each video, I would probably pull out my balls in anger. The process of each video was a mess of:

1. Writing down a script (takes more than an hour to write an hour of script)
2. Recording the audio (takes more than an hour to record an hour)
3. Editing the audio (takes about double the time of whatever its recorded)
4. Making the thumbnail
5. Making the avatar
6. Collecting images
7. Collecting video clips
8. Making images and clips
9. Editing through clips that are too long
10. Adding sound effects
11. Finding and adding music
12. Waiting for it to render (usually this is where I go to do other things)
13. Rendering it AGAIN through handbrake so it’s a smaller file (quicker than waiting for uploading a multi GB file)
14. Uploading it across youtube, bitchute, and rumble

I don’t want to make this sound like I’m complaining, but this is the bare minimum effort that goes into a youtube video, not mentioning the details of how things are edited or the issues with troubleshooting. A lot of what ate up my time was realizing when things aren’t working way too late, such as how GIFs don’t register well and they slow down a larger project. Or better yet, how a large project slows down to a crawl and you have to render multiple segments separately in order to keep things running smoothly. My files, as organized as I tried to keep them, were unorganized as hell because I would set them up during production instead of before production. Then by the end of it, there would be something wrong that I would have to edit, remove, I forgot something, something vanished between saves, or even corrupted files because I moved something and didn’t realize it was part of something else.
Video editing is utter hell in the beginning, but it gets better after you look after your process and actually organize everything well.
I spent a night the other week changing up all of my files. I put them on my desktop, where I can easily access them, and away from my downloads. This is important because your downloads can be bogged down with anything you download, and eventually it becomes a massive mess of pictures, videos, game patches, or whatever else you’re downloading; all getting in the way of your actual project. You want your files to be files within files, and each file is marked clearly for its purpose and its direction. I had a million songs splayed out in different areas and couldn’t remember where they were, of course when I wanted them, all because they would get trapped in piles of other things I downloaded for later.
My file finding time is now only limited by the slowness of my computer acquiring it.
Audio began as a mess of me going through each line to make sure there was no extra noise, and having to fix anything that was too quiet or not full enough. Turns out I was making my audio way too maximized and wasting a lot of time on stuff that people wouldn’t even recognize as an issue. Now my audio mixing is done through OBS, already set up as a particular compression and volume that will stay in the acceptable range, with noise removal already set up.
My audio recording/editing time is closer to how long it takes to speak.
Developing each chapter card, clipping them together, having to find the font, typing everything out. These, along with getting sound effects working, took up too much time. What I did is make a plan to prepare all of these first, before anything else is added to the video, so that I know how many chapters there are. They don’t take that long to render, because of how short they are, and it takes way less time to do that than to shift gears at the end of the production day. Shifting gears every couple of minutes, that was wasting too much time, which is now changed to doing one specific task each session.
My “switching” time is removed, thus saving time.
Music was added in the beginning, as one of the first things. This was wrong to do, because of how many times I would want a clip where the music continues through it, only to realize that this continuation forced me to keep a massive background of editing history, which slows everything down through production. Adding music as the last bit, and after rendering, will save me minutes for every time I boot up the video editor, which saves hours over time when I’m going to have to go back and forth on video editing. My lifestyle only gives me an hour or two at a time to sit in front of the computer, and so editing will require less wait time for the process to warm up.
My rendering time will increase(as I go to do other things), but my waiting time will decrease.
Through my new process, I am also considering a different view of each video type. Recently, I saw a video about how kindle books are categorized between low, mid, and high content; related to how much effort it takes to make each one. My previous attempts were to, essentially, make high effort content as consistently as possible, which was going to be draining when these were events that came and went. Current news like Lindsay Ellis being stupid or DSP looking like a fool on Sidescrollers are incredibly time sensitive, which is why so many people stream these “news reports” instead of making high effort videos about them. And even if it was a long term type of video, we have to question if it REQUIRES that much effort to begin with.
My plans for the future are to measure how long I take with each session, what I get done, track down percentages, and measure what the longest steps are. Figuring out what’s causing a hold-up is the best way to prevent hold-ups, in the same way city builders (should) keep track of what’s causing traffic jams. Too many traffic jams? Get rid of cars or open more lanes. Keeping track of things is going to take minutes to save hours, which is something I should have practiced more on doing through my practicing year.
Videos are done with marketing in mind, because I don’t plan to make money from them. My “branding” is storytelling, art, art-related lolcows, and I guess that pesky culture war. People begged me to go fully political, but I think political is a step below philosophical, which is where I would rather go. I would rather explain the psychology and aesthetics of media, instead of repeating myself as to how offensive or woke something is. Yes, I make fun of Lindsay for being woke, but I explain why she is and where it comes from, which is something more important than some kind of drama farming that grifters do.
I would rather be a source of information than a pointless attack dog for someone above me, which is why I try to separate myself from the people who do such nonsense. I’m not with these movements, I don’t care to promote people I don’t care about, I’m not going to go easy on people just because “we’re on the same side”. Everyone gets made fun of or nobody gets made fun of, and I’m year of monkey, bitch. This monkey wants bananas and youtube is not going to supply any. But it supplies plenty of vines to swing around from, as I Donkey Kong my way from topic to topic.
Like anything else in life, videos need to be worth my time, meaning their expense needs to be dropped dramatically. Hour long, multi-hour long, these were excruciatingly hard to do. The next goal is to make sure everything is kept around 30min long, unless it’s going to be a bi-yearly 1 hour long video that will be the highlight of the year, which is where full book analysis videos come into play. The scripts for everything else will be written down as articles, with the better of the articles being made into low content videos.
Podcast style will be for low effort, being made weekly.
A new style will be for mid effort, which is where 30min of history or explanation is presented with video clips, being made monthly. Video game clips will be placed around here as well, unless they can be made bi-weekly.
And the classic, me in my room with my ASS computer, will be for the high content, for subjects that take far too long to make on a monthly basis.
This planning is still in the works, it’s an effort to create a strategy and a schedule for everything. The goal would be to place an hour a day per video, creating steps for each video, and using each other as progress reports for the bigger ones. It will be like placing smaller squares into bigger squares until the biggest square is complete, allowing me to visually determine my progress across such a subject. This is also a way for me to appear more productive, because content will be constantly coming out on a clear schedule. Only bad side about it is that this means 3 hours of my day are used for videos, and this won’t be possible for every day until content creation is my main job.
Before I can have this be a thing, it will be a slow, preemptive creation process, with smaller projects being made as my “short stories”, to then determine if I’m ready for a bigger “novel” of a project. And that’s how I have to approach video editing: the same way I would with storytelling. No more determining that length means better, or more time means more results. Now I’m going to obey the market, go for what’s expected of me, and react to feedback. If something doesn’t work, or doesn’t make a dent, I try something else.
I think that’s why people get mad at me, when they see that I am trying something else all the time. This is normal, but I’m told that I’m “an interloper” or “will never win” because I willingly give up on things that don’t work. Sorry, losers, but being unorganized and wasting my life is not worth it. I like money, and I like vaginas. If I wanted to be poor and wasting my life, I would have kept slamming my head against a wall and failing like most of what indie does.
And yes, the OPC reviews will be translated into videos, as well as my own short stories. I began as a crackpasta narrator, after all. I was thinking of putting a lot of radio drama production into my narrations, but I would want to keep them low effort until they start attracting all of the attention from their titles. A lot of people try to narrate their stories and they don’t make a spark anywhere with them. But as time goes on, and I get more videos under my belt, I could easily narrate for others, create a network, and get things going. It’s not that hard to get things working once you know what you’re doing.
The main time waste that we all fall for is chaotic activity and the lack of planning.

Preparing for the Indian Administrative Service (IAS) Mains exam is a journey filled with dedication, discipline, and strategic planning. One of the most crucial components of this journey is mastering the art of answer writing. Your ability to articulate your knowledge and insights effectively can make the difference between an average score and a top rank. Here, we will delve into some key strategies to enhance your answer writing skills, ensuring you stand out in this highly competitive exam.

Understanding the Demand of the Question

The first step in effective answer writing is understanding the exact demand of the question. This involves:

1. Analyzing Keywords: Pay close attention to directive words like 'discuss,' 'critically analyze,' 'elaborate,' and 'compare.' These words indicate the approach you should take in your answer.
2. Identifying Parts of the Question: Break down the question into its constituent parts to ensure you address every aspect.

Structuring Your Answer

A well-structured answer is easier for the examiner to read and understand. Follow these tips for a coherent structure:

1. Introduction: Start with a brief introduction that sets the context. This could be a definition, a relevant fact, or a brief background.
2. Body: Divide the body into clear, logical sections. Use subheadings if necessary to organize your thoughts. Ensure each paragraph deals with a single point or argument.
3. Conclusion: Conclude with a summary of your main points or a forward-looking statement. Keep it concise and impactful.

Incorporating Relevant Content

The content of your answer should reflect depth and breadth of knowledge:

1. Current Affairs: Integrate recent events and developments to show your awareness of the contemporary context.
2. Examples and Case Studies: Use relevant examples and case studies to substantiate your arguments.
3. Diagrams and Flowcharts: Visual aids like diagrams and flowcharts can make your answer more engaging and easier to understand.

Writing Style and Presentation

Your writing style and presentation can significantly impact the readability of your answers:

1. Clarity and Precision: Write clearly and concisely. Avoid unnecessary jargon and verbosity.
2. Handwriting: If you’re writing by hand, ensure your handwriting is legible. Good handwriting can make a positive impression on the examiner.
3. Use of Bullet Points: For lists and series of points, bullet points can enhance readability and make your answer look organized.

Time Management

Time management is crucial during the exam:

1. Practice Regularly: Regular practice with timed mock tests can help you gauge the appropriate length and depth of your answers.
2. Prioritize Questions: Start with the questions you are most comfortable with. This builds confidence and ensures you secure marks in areas of strength.
3. Stick to Word Limits: Adhering to the prescribed word limit is important. Overwriting can lead to incomplete answers towards the end of the paper.

Revision and Feedback

Continuous improvement is key:

1. Self-Review: After writing a practice answer, review it critically. Look for gaps in content, structure, and presentation.
2. Peer Review: Exchange answers with fellow aspirants to gain new perspectives and constructive feedback.
3. Mentorship: Seek guidance from experienced mentors who can provide professional insights and identify areas for improvement.

To truly excel in the IAS Mains exam, personalized guidance and structured preparation are essential. At PM IAS Academy in Coimbatore, we offer comprehensive coaching tailored to your needs. Our expert faculty, extensive resources, and focused mentoring can help you master the art of answer writing and achieve your IAS aspirations. Enroll today and take the first step towards a successful career in public service.
Visit our website PM IAS Academy or call us at 123-456-7890 to learn more and schedule your free consultation.
Mastering answer writing for the IAS Mains exam is a skill that can be honed with the right strategies and consistent practice. By following the tips outlined above and seeking expert guidance from PM IAS Academy, you can significantly enhance your chances of success. Happy studying!

Out of all the guns in Dante's arsenal throughout the series, probably my favorites were Pandora and Nightmare Beta.
NB could pretty much nuke entire rooms on a full charge (which was fun as all hell) and Pandora is probably the best reason to EVER use Gunslinger in 4 with a ton of variety and versatility. You also had Artemis, which while slow to charge i thought was a pretty fun gun, even though it's a much weaker take on NB's "crowd control" shtick.
Faust Hat was cool, but mechanically lacking in my opinion, and i felt like DMC5 could have better expanded on Pandora, or gave us a return to the Beam weapon types. Given that they brought back Kalina Ann (without the sick ass grappling hook...... lame) and Cerberus (LITERALLY THE BEST WEAPON IN 5. Do not change my mind.) With upgrades, i can't see them not bringing back even older weapons like this.
I know i doomsay this a ton already, but i really worry for Dante's classic weaponmaster playstyle with Nero being the new MC of the franchise. Even with his breakers, i find Nero's core gameplay identity stale, and i can see him getting really old to play in future games without major reworks to his moveset, where as Dante pretty much gets a new set of weapons every game to keep him fresh to play and go back to every time regardless of his design, meanwhile Nero and Vergil suffer from "improved obselescence" where future titles just make older titles less fun to play due to newer iterations just being defacto improvements over what came before. Dante doesn't have this problem at all because his only returning moves are on his trademark Rebellion, E&I and Coyote Alpha, with most of his other weapons still being a totally fresh take on the character, which is more character development in my opinion than Hideaki Itsuno is willing to admit.
Nero just can't carry that same design philosophy because his design is MEANT to be concise. He's meant to be easier to pick up. I'm not saying that Nero doesn't belong, but in my opinion, he sucks as a protagonist, doesn't really get the attention in his writing that he deserves, and just isn't as interesting in gameplay to me on a fundamental level. And honestly, Dante's presence is a double edged sword, because while his diversity and versatility really sells the gameplay as a whole and brings out the best in it every time, his presence also completely overshadows Nero's potential growth by just being so much better, to the point anything they do will be paradoxical toward Nero. If you remove Dante, you get stuck with Nero's underwhelming simplicity and heavyhanded restriction for the long term, and if you KEEP Dante, he'll just keep one-upping Nero more and more in his own games.
I can't really see a way for Nero to win here as a main protagonist. He needs growth and he needs focus, and both are hard locked by Dante being Dante, and removing Dante just demolishes the gameplay standard into a mudpit because he embodies the most engaging elements of the combat system.
Like i said, it's all paradoxical for Nero as an MC, and i can't say i'm excited to see what happens next with him. Aside from his Breakers and the Bringee Knuckle, Nero's level of variety and depth just sucks, and even that little variety as far as breakers are concerned is limited to hard consumables that can't be "safely" switched out. Not really a great design to me on the Breaker system, too limited for my taste.
Anyway, rant over. Miss Dante's guns and will miss his style when it's gone. (And it's not an if, it is indeed a when so long as Itsuno helms the franchise. He makes it clear he hates using Dante for stupid ownership reasons.) That's it.

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Let me start by saying I’ve got about 1500 hours in this game, playing both survivor and killer an equal amount.
Let me also say, I love this game. It rewards players well for their time playing, and it has hilarious, random, and insane moments at times. There is a great variety of play styles, characters, and cosmetics as well. Licensed content is always amazing, the creativity of the developers is fantastic, and all around, there is so much to learn and see with each match you play.
Now, I’d like to talk about my experience playing mostly killer, especially playing killer for several hours straight.
One word that sticks out in my mind over and over is “burnout”. I find that I can only play about 6 or 7 killer games until my head starts to hurt, and my stress levels have been sustained at too high a level and I mentally can’t take it anymore.
Why does this happen? Well, a couple reasons:

1. I play very competitively and aim for 3-4 kills each game(doesn’t always happen, but that’s ok obviously, the game is pretty balanced)
   
2. Match making rating inflates very quickly - what this means is that after just 1 or 2 games in a row of killing all 4 survivors, I find myself in a lobby of survivors who are either all in discord together, or some solo survivors who have twice the hours I have in the game. The “sweaty p100s” some may call them.
   

Whether it’s T bagging, flashlight spam, dead hard, head on, DS, unbreakable, adrenaline, off the record, or any other strong survivor perk, games start to feel miserably difficult, to the point where I’m no longer having a good time.
I’m fine ending with only 1 or 2 kills, but it’s the things that happen in the game that just make it so unbearable and stressful, and I’m struggling to enjoy myself. Even games where I get all 4, I find myself feeling relieved that it’s over, rather than happy that I won.
I write this for the purpose of asking 1 question: how can I enjoy the game for hours straight again? I don’t want to feel like this after playing. I want to feel like I wish I could play another.
TLDR: Love this game, but I’m suffering badly from burnout, and I need a way to have fun playing killer again.

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Shortly before a final paper with pre-assigned topics was due for one of my last courses at Columbia University, our professor sent us an email telling us to forego the previous parameters of the essay, and to instead write about the events that had occurred not even forty-eight hours earlier, as well as our reflections on them, to be done in any manner we chose. Here is a very lightly revised version of what I submitted: read it, ignore it, upvote it, downvote it, hate it, love it.
I am prefacing this essay by stating that it is the culmination of several intense emotions that I have been dealing with over the last few weeks, more specifically, the last several days. It is a free-form expression of the many things occupying my mind, and, as such, it may seem overwhelming or disjointed. Nevertheless, I will do my best to convey my feelings into something representative of my beliefs, and my time at this institution.
My time at Columbia University has been bookended in an almost comically bad way; it started with Zoom classes during the COVID-19 pandemic, and now it ends with Zoom final exams due to the lockdown of Columbia’s campus after protests regarding the Israel – Palestine conflict reached a fever pitch not just within Morningside Campus, but the international stage. My classmates and I missed in-person orientation, and now, given recent developments, we will not have a University Commencement, a fact I found out not from Columbia, but a New York Times alert, somehow lowering my opinion of this administration’s handling of recent events even more. While the circumstances around my time at Columbia have now both begun and finished in the same manner, I am proud to say that I have not. I do not mean that Columbia has simply made me a better writer, a more critical thinker, or more well read, although it certainly has done those things, sometimes forcing me to when I was not particularly in the mood to do so, but those improvements pale in comparison to the maturity and empathy my time at this university has given me.
When the decision to transition to remote learning during the Spring 2020 semester was made, occurring only a short time after I had received my acceptance letter (email), my first thought was how the pandemic would affect my transfer from community college to Columbia in September. Admittedly, this was a selfish perspective, considering the tremendous challenges that many would endure during the ensuing lockdowns and other upheavals of life. My concerns were solely focused on myself because I was on a simple track to graduate, place my degree on my resumé, and continue my trajectory of military service to college to employment, leaving little else to consideration, to include other people who were not in my immediate circle. Sitting here now, two weeks from graduation, with a job at a Fortune 500 company lined up, I should be happy, with the plans I had made years ago coming to fruition. Yet I cannot help feeling a sense of sadness and concern for the school I have spent years of my life at, and for the world as a whole.
James Hatch, a former member of the United States’s elite Naval Special Warfare Development Group, or DEVGRU, for short, more commonly known by its nickname, Seal Team Six, famous for its involvement in the killing of Osama Bin Laden and the rescue of the Maersk Alabama Captain Richard Phillips from pirates, amongst other things, spent over twenty years in the military. After being wounded on a mission to rescue American serviceman sergeant Bowe Bergdahl from enemy forces, he was medically discharged, and would eventually attend Yale University. While there, he wrote a piece titled My Semester with the Snowflakes (please give this a read, it will help people who have never been in the military understand its culture, along with some of the challenges veterans face when transitioning to college), where he details his initial discomfort with being in a vastly different environment than the military, surrounded by individuals who possessed opinions and beliefs contrary to the ones he was accustomed to. He recalls witnessing a student protest the country he spent over two decades serving by coating her hand in red paint, and leaving a palm print on an American flag, and details his shock when a classmate of his explained to him what a “safe space” was, as well as his pride when he began to understand the nuances of life both inside and outside of the nation he dedicated twenty-six years to.
I can relate to Mr. Hatch, (despite my service paling in comparison to his, as well as the fact that Columbia is far superior to Yale), because, like his friends who make fun of him for attending college with a bunch of “snowflakes,” mine do the same. More significantly, however, his personal growth during his time at school is something that I have experienced myself. When I started at Columbia, I did not even know which major I would choose, and was largely lost in a world very different than the one I had come from. Despite this, I made the decision to avoid communities such as MilVets and the students who made it very clear that they came from a military background, with their style of dress and demeanor, not because those organizations and individuals are a detriment; I know for a fact that MilVets has helped countless students succeed at Columbia and beyond, and the veterans that I have relationships with are all phenomenal people, but because I wanted to pressure myself into being exposed to something different. I was uncomfortable at first, but this turned out to be the right decision. I learned as much from simply talking to people whom I would normally never converse with about topics and ideas that I had never encountered as I did during classes about great works of art, polar and Cartesian coordinates, literature, astronomy, the list goes on.
If the protests about the Israel – Palestine conflict had occurred when I first started at Columbia, I would have been frustrated by the students taking up space, forcing us to be funneled on to campus by restricted access points and identification checks. Likely irritated by the disturbance of the quiet during finals season, I would have agreed with the people who called for students to simply focus on their assignments and stop inconveniencing others by shouting about something occurring on the other side of the world. Instead, I decided to learn about the conflict, educating myself about both sides of a war that has roots extending back millennia. While Columbia University did not agree to the demands of the protestors, they achieved something else they surely desired, reaching a goal they did not state to President Shafik and her advisors: they brought attention to their cause by educating at least one additional person about it.
After reading, talking to people, listening to input from students within various classes, and understanding that things such as the intertwined nature of financial workings, as well as conflicts not just in the Middle East, but all over the world, are a level of complexity that baffles some of the most brilliant minds of ours and previous generations, I will leave my thoughts about Israel and Palestine separate from this paper. I recognize that it is important to choose a side, as remaining impartial helps no one. However, when every news agency, group and individual makes their voice heard, satirical sources such as The Onion make these kind of posts, or Adult Swim’s Rick, the nihilistic, narcissistic, psychopathic, misanthropic lead character from the series Rick and Morty, addresses the conflict in this manner, I feel that it is better to relegate myself to a much smaller part of this debate, namely the occurrences on Columbia University’s Morningside Campus.
During basic training for the United States Army, a sense of brotherhood and camaraderie is hammered into recruits’ identities. When you graduate and are assigned to a unit, one where you could be thousands of miles from home on the opposite side of the country, or even in a completely different country, serving on one of the international bases, approaching someone who you have never met before is easy. Talking to them about shared experiences and stories you have in common, and the bonding that occurs, is the product of an indoctrination process and lifestyle that has existed longer than any of us have been alive, and is proof of its effectiveness. This sense of familiarity tends to continue even when one leaves the military. The Veterans of Foreign Wars community is a place for prior servicemembers of all conflicts to share a drink, a laugh, and sometimes a tear. When I go to the Veterans Administration Hospital for periodic check-ups or the occasional injury, men and woman wearing hats commemorating their service during Vietnam waiting for their appointments greet me with a smile and a handshake, as if we have known each other for years. While working at a golf club’s greens department before I transferred to Columbia from community college, a coworker of mine who had served in the Gulf War had heard from our supervisor that I had been in the Army, and he introduced himself to me on my first day, before anyone else, telling me that if I needed anything, I only had to ask. This camaraderie has expanded to encompass not just veterans, but first responders such as firemen, EMT’s, and the police as well.
Underneath the picture on my driver’s license, the word “veteran” is emblazoned next to a star, written in bright red text and all capital letters. I know for a fact that this one-and-a-half-inch indicator has helped me during interactions with law enforcement on multiple occasions. Only earlier this semester, during Presidents’ Day weekend, I went upstate to spend time with my family. While driving back, in an effort to make the seven-hour trip at a reasonable time, I was stopped for going twenty miles-per-hour over the speed limit. The officer who pulled me over, initially reserved, became noticeably more friendly when I handed him my license and registration. Ultimately, he gave me what amounted to a parking ticket for my actions, rather than the point-incurring, heavily fined moving violation he could have charged me with.
The ‘Thin Blue Line,’ as it is known, is a reference to the idea that the police are the barrier between law abiding citizens and criminals, order and chaos. The most common representation of this concept is a black-and-white American flag, with a single blue line in the place where a red or white stripe would normally be. This style has been expanded to include numerous other colors representing other first-responders: green for the military, red and white no longer to be interpreted as the traditional stripes of the American flag, but instead meant to represent the fire department and paramedics, and even grey for corrections officers. Seeing the appropriation of one of the most iconic symbols in the world, one that flies above the White House, schools, homes, national and international events, and even the Moon, I can say, as someone who has been unwillingly entangled within that appropriation, is nothing short of terrifying.
The fact that these entities and their supporters have literally sewn themselves into the fabric of the symbol of our nation makes one think that there is little room for the countless other occupations, aspects and people that make up this country. The idea of the police being the sole protectors of our society is patently absurd, and all one must do is point out the many instances of police brutality occurring over the years to refute it. I find myself thinking of how much power the officer who stopped me just three months ago had over me. Initially, I was happy that I had received a slap on the wrist, but recently I have found myself wondering what if my license did not state that I was a veteran, would he have charged me with a ticket that would have had much more serious implications? What if he was simply having a bad day, and he decided he did not like the look of me, or the color of my car, and I was the one who he ultimately decided to vent his frustrations on? This traffic infraction, an incredibly small incident compared to all the turmoil in the world, one that involves two strangers, supposedly bonded by our professions, on the side of a quiet, New York highway, serves as a metaphor to me, reminding me of the power structures at play on a much larger scale.
On April 22^nd, 2024, I received this email, one of the many Clery Crime Alerts that students are automatically sent. An affiliate of Columbia University had their car stolen at gunpoint by two masked men on Claremont Avenue, not even a five-minute walk from campus. I skimmed the report, and almost immediately forgot about it, recognizing that crime is an inevitability in major cities, and that I needed to start my commute to school. Days later, on the night of April 30^th, 2024, I received another email from Columbia, containing one of the most ominous messages I had ever seen, one that put the kind of fear in my heart that not even the alert of an armed carjacking could. Columbia’s Emergency Management Operations Team, offering no explanations, specifications, or even a greeting or sign-off, wrote in bold letters these three sentences: “Shelter in place for your safety due to heightened activity on the Morningside campus. Non-compliance may result in disciplinary action. Avoid the area until further notice.” Due to the protests on campus during recent weeks, President Shafik testifying before Congress, Columbia’s role as one of the main catalysts for student protests around the country, and the occupation of Hamilton Hall occurring in the earlier hours of that day, it was not hard to figure out what the email was referencing. Over the next several hours, I followed news agencies, remained glued to the Columbia subreddit, and listened to WKCR, in awe of these eighteen- to twenty-two-year-old students putting themselves at risk to deliver on the ground, accurate, unbiased coverage of one of the most significant events in the school’s history.
While tracking the events from multiple perspectives, to include the social media accounts of those near and on campus live streaming them, I held out hope that the university would make good on their promise from several days earlier to not invite the NYPD back, but a frightening picture began to unfold, one that I was intimately familiar with. One WKCR reporter stated that 114^th street had so many officers on it that he could not see the asphalt of the road beneath them, and I knew that the staging area the NYPD had chosen was one of the best routes for moving towards what the military, and presumably law enforcement, would call an ‘objective.’ The officers cleared the smaller ‘objective,’ the largely unoccupied tents in front of Butler, and then moved towards Hamilton Hall, ordering even those not associated with its occupation to disperse, raising my stress levels and likely those of others, as it is rarely a good sign when police do not want their actions recorded and archived. After the initial entry to campus and clearing of areas and people in the immediate vicinity of Hamilton Hall, came the Long-Range Acoustic Device, or LRAD, a device that makes a megaphone sound like a whisper, and one known for its crowd-control potential, capable of producing sounds loud enough to cause damage to ear-drums, nausea, and headaches, ordering individuals to clear away. The NYPD began its execution of tactics in a way that my fellow soldiers and I used to rehearse, tactics I never dreamed that I would witness outside of the military, and certainly not by police officers who vastly outnumbered unarmed students on their own campus. The NYPD created a perimeter, or a ‘second layer of security’ to both provide reinforcements for the officers entering the building, and to prevent the fleeing of what are called ‘squirters,’ or individuals who attempt to escape the building after the raid begins. While the ‘breach’ team moved towards the front doors, using tools from a ‘hooligan kit,’ such as bolt cutters, hand-held battering rams and crowbars, a siege machine was brought in to allow access from a window; when taking over a building, the idea is to enter it from as many different directions as possible to better disorient and overwhelm its occupants. Flash-bang grenades, described as non-lethal, but known to have harmful effects, were thrown inside, presumably before entering any room, hallway, or otherwise enclosed area to minimize the resistance of anyone unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of what can only be described as an assault on the visual and auditory senses. According to the Manhattan District Attorney, one of the officers inside Hamilton Hall had what is called in the military a “negligent discharge,” meaning his firearm went off unintentionally. While no one was hurt, the question remains why at least one, and more likely, numerous other officers were carrying guns loaded with live ammunition in the first place, when they so drastically outmatched the protestors in numbers and equipment. Additionally, a negligent discharge is an act of incompetence that would result in an active-duty soldier facing serious consequences, and derision from his peers. So far, the officer remains defended by his coworkers, and unpunished by his superiors.
As all this unfolded, I communicated with my friends from the past and present. My friends from the military checked on me to ensure that I was okay, as did my friends from school. The difference in how they viewed these events highlights what I believe is the change in myself that I stated I am most proud of at the beginning of this paper. My friends from the military were commenting that the assertion of order and control by way of militarized tactics was necessary, not concerning themselves with the human toll and destruction of trust that came along with it. Conversely, my schoolmates lamented the brutality and overstepping of boundaries that the NYPD and Columbia’s administration committed, one that turned a place meant to be a beacon of free speech, expression, and ideas, into what is now a police-state with strict control over who enters it.
My education inside and outside the classroom at this institution has challenged, thrilled, and changed me. Sitting here now, at the end of this paper, the end of the semester, and the end of my time at Columbia University, I am left feeling confused and sad regarding recent events, but also hopeful for the future. I know from experience that the students, teachers, and culture of this school have the power to encourage critical thinking and initiate personal growth. If it did those things for me, surely it can do the same for others

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