Just bought a used Hyundai Ioniq Hybrid 2022 - NZ new. Went to park it in a busy street today and realised there’s no button on the Drivers side door to fold the mirrors in?
Did a google search and some Ioniqs have an “auto” button which should fold the mirrors but I don’t have this button in my car.
Other manuals say to press “Settings” on the infotainment screen and click “Vehicle” but I don’t have this vehicle settings option either?
Then other sources say you need to push it in by HAND? Gosh my old car was a 2005 and even that was able to electronically fold its mirrors! Seems like a terrible design flaw if you have to physically fold the mirrors right? Surely I’m missing something…
Have tried resetting the infotainment screen to see if the “vehicle” settings option will show up but it didn’t work.
Have also checked every setting on the computer to see if the side mirrors option is there and no luck.
Any NZ new ioniq owners that can help?

Hi all,
Yesterday I done did a bo bo....
I was trying to transfer some USDT on the Arbitrum network (using coinbase wallet) to my coinbase account.
I pulled the receive address from coinbase, send the funds from CW and everything looked good, but the funds never appeared in Coinbase.
Now, I assume that is because the Tether wallet is ERC-20 only and I was sending from an Arbitrum.
The transaction is in arbiscan, and the USDT wallet does now have USDT in it. Its not a lot of money, i don't have much of anything in any of these wallets, but it would be nice to recover it and learn what i did wrong for next time.
Any help greatly appreciated.
I obviously wont be providing too much in the way of details/addresses etc but if someone can point me in the right direction that would be good.

My name is Rory Fars, and my little sister, Lily Fars, is the last family I had left.
A heavy sense of dread settled over me like a suffocating blanket as I sat in the worn leather seat of Lily's old jeep. The car, a relic of our happier days, seemed to groan under our shared sorrow. Beside me, Lily, my best friend, and confidante, absentmindedly twirled a strand of her long, dark hair, which swayed gently in rhythm with the haunting melodies from the oldies station on the radio. This car had seen us through countless joyful journeys when our family was whole. Almost three years had passed since that fateful Christmas trip in Texas when our parents were tragically killed in a horrific multi-car pileup. The memory of their loss was a constant ache, a wound that never fully healed.
My dad was from Amarillo, Texas, so my parents often took trips down there, visiting the places that held so many memories for him. During one of these trips, just before Christmas, a sudden blizzard struck while they were on the freeway. The snow fell in blinding sheets, making the world outside a disorienting white blur. As they tried to slowly pull to the side, their vision obscured by the relentless storm, they never saw the car barreling toward them at least forty miles an hour. The impact was devastating, an abrupt and brutal end to their journey and, in many ways, to our lives as we had known them.
My parents were always sticklers for safety, insisting on seatbelts every time we got in the car. So, of course, they had theirs on during that fateful trip. The initial impact wasn't what killed them, the coroner explained to me. Not even the first hit from behind, which was going at least fifty miles an hour, was fatal. I had to practically shake the information out of him—they were so resistant to tell me anything at first. By the time the third car hit, with an unknown speed, their survival was already in jeopardy. The coroner said that by the fifth car, they were likely dead. But it didn't end there. Another twenty-three vehicles slammed into the back of the pile, each collision further crushing their bodies, reducing them to a horrific, unrecognizable state. Each jarring impact pushed my parents deeper into a gruesome amalgamation of twisted metal and shattered lives.
I don't know why I felt compelled to demand those details at the time, but I deeply regret it now. I wish I had never asked. Almost every night, unless I drink myself into oblivion, I am haunted by nightmares of what they endured. I dream of driving up to save them, only to be caught in the same deadly barrage of cars, ending in a twisted metal tomb for all of us.
Lily is never in those dreams. Even in my most horrific imaginings, I can't envision her being hurt. Lily is my little sister, younger by eight years and three months. Whenever I mention our age difference, I see the judgment in people's eyes, but what can I say? Our parents never stopped loving each other. They had Lily late in life; she became our shared joy, our living reminder of the love that had bound our family together.
Lily wasn't my twin in the literal sense, but ever since she was born, it felt like we shared the inexplicable connection that twins often describe. As she grew up, our bond only deepened—we acted, sounded, and even looked remarkably alike. She became my rock, especially after our parents' tragic deaths. We leaned on each other, cried into each other's shoulders, and somehow found the strength to move forward. We eventually moved in together, finding solace in a two-bedroom apartment that became our sanctuary.
Lily seemed to handle our parents' deaths better than I did, or maybe she was just better at distracting herself with technology. Even before their passing, Lily was addicted to any kind of digital screen she could manipulate. Her ability to navigate the digital world was unmatched; she was the most intelligent person I had ever met. Her intelligence was a beacon of light in the darkness that had enveloped us, a testament to her resilience and brilliance.
After my parents' death, I embarked on a quest to find my spirituality by delving into paranormal investigations. I hoped these pursuits would bring me closer to my parents in the afterlife, spiritual realm, or whatever you want to call it. Instead, it created a chasm between me and any sense of spiritual existence. Each investigation seemed to push me further from the answers I sought, leaving me feeling more isolated and disconnected than ever.
I had hoped that by exploring these paranormal claims, I would discover a way to reach out to my parents and feel their presence again. Yet, as the years have passed, this endeavor has only deepened my loneliness and sense of loss. Despite knowing how detrimental it is to my mental health, I can't bring myself to stop. The hope that the subsequent investigation will be the one that proves the existence of an afterlife and that I'll find a way to contact my parents keeps me going. It's a desperate, unrelenting pursuit for a connection that remains heartbreakingly out of reach.
I should have accepted their death and moved on like any sane person would. Instead, I let my grief fester and dragged my sister and a stranger, Mark, through my obsessive quest for answers. My relentless pursuit of the paranormal didn't just alienate me; it consumed us all, leading to their untimely deaths. My name is Rory Fars, and I am here to confess my side of the story about the missing case of Lily Fars and Mark Lawrence.
This is the truth about how my desperate search for a connection with the afterlife led to a nightmare from which none of us could escape.
To start off, no, Lily was not a student of Mark's who fell in love with him and then got jealous of me hitting on him, leading her to kill him and herself. I know that sounds ridiculous, but given some wild theories circulating online, I need to address this one specifically since it seems to be the most popular.
First and foremost, Mark Lawrence was not, nor has he ever been, a professor at a university. Lily and I met Mark at the Local Museum in Redlin, a town nestled deep in the Appalachian Mountains. He was the curator of an exhibit showcasing the history of Raven's Nest, a forgotten mining town that neither Lily nor I had ever heard of. This is where our story begins, in a place steeped in history and mystery, far removed from the convoluted theories that now cloud the truth.
We were constantly searching for new ideas for our podcast about paranormal claims. Each of our twenty-five episodes so far had concluded with a rational explanation, so when Mark told us about the curse of Harper, I was immediately intrigued.
Mark was an older man, likely in his mid-sixties, with a full head of silver hair and a beard that stubbornly clung to its youthful color, only lightly dusted with grey. He had a presence that commanded attention, and his stories about the curse were delivered with an intensity that drew me in.
On the other hand, Lily was always more interested in the technical aspects of the paranormal. She had her own theories and was determined to debunk every claim we investigated. She wasn't easily swayed by Mark's tales about the curse of Harper, but she was willing to listen and give him a chance to prove himself. Her skeptical mind constantly checked my enthusiasm, and together, we hoped to uncover the truth behind yet another paranormal mystery.
"Hello ladies, care to hear about the mysterious town of Raven's Nest?" Mark asked with theatrical enthusiasm.
Lily and I exchanged a knowing glance, trying to stifle our amusement. Despite our attempts to remain composed, a smirk played at the corners of our lips.
"We're all ears," I replied, my tone laced with a hint of sarcasm.
He sighed, almost as if he was disappointed that we said yes. Taking a deep breath, he seemed to steel himself for the task ahead. "Well, you see," he began, his voice tinged with uncertainty, "in the early twentieth century, a man named Harper Franstein exploited many men and children in the coal mines. By the mid-1920s, he had established his own settlement in a secluded valley, which he dubbed 'The Raven's Nest.' It was never officially recognized as a town, but that's the only name we have to go off of."
I could see the beads of sweat forming on Mark's brow as he struggled to recall every detail. Despite his initial enthusiasm, he now appeared flustered, his confidence waning. Eventually, he resorted to consulting his damp and crumpled notes, a sign of his growing unease.
"Um, anyway, yeah, um," he stuttered, audibly gulping as his nerves got the better of him. Lily couldn't contain her laughter, emitting a snicker that earned us a glare from Mark.
"Hey, just relax," I interjected, trying to diffuse the tension. "We're not here to judge or intimidate you." With a gentle touch on his forearm and a chuckle, I attempted to reassure him, hoping to ease his obvious discomfort.
He paused, sharing a chuckle with me, while Lily struggled to suppress her laughter and eventually excused herself, leaving just Mark and me. Evidently, he felt more at ease with fewer listeners, so he pressed on with his narrative.
"Anyway," he resumed, "Harper held complete control over the town and the mine, and he made sure everyone was acutely aware of that fact. When the disappearances began, he tried to sweep them under the rug, attributing them to anything but his own negligence in mining practices."
"What do you mean by 'negligence in mining practices'?" I interjected, eager to delve deeper into his intriguing tale.
He looked up, clearly pleased by my question. "Yes, exactly," he affirmed. "Harper adhered to a mining technique outlined by Dwight Brunst in the mid to late nineteenth century. This method mandated only one entry and exit point into the mine."
"Wait, so they were forbidden from creating additional exits?" I pressed for clarification.
"Not explicitly," he explained. "The practice advocated for just one entry and exit as it was believed to minimize the risk of cave-ins, at least in theory. However, there were instances where miners, feeling uneasy about this restriction, took matters into their own hands and carved out what they called 'Emergency Exits' for themselves. After about half of the town started going missing, Harper couldn't take criticism about how he responded, but most people say he was losing money quickly and didn't want to live in a world where he was poor. He walked into the mine, never to be seen again, much like the cave's past victims. Visitors report seeing and hearing Harper, trying to get them to leave."
As I stood there, listening to Mark's enthralling narrative, I found myself captivated by the mysterious allure of Raven's Nest. Unable to contain my curiosity, I decided to pose a question.
"So, what does the town look like now?" I inquired, eager to learn more about the present state of this enigmatic place.
Mark's demeanor shifted slightly as he rifled through his notes, a subtle indication that he didn't have a straightforward answer to my query.
"You've never been there?" I asked, my tone softening with genuine curiosity.
He flinched as though my question had struck a nerve. "Shhhhhh... shut up," he demanded, his voice tinged with unease.
Suppressing a chuckle, I leaned in closer and whispered, "Okay, hear me out. My sister Lily and I are investigating paranormal phenomena. Your story about Raven's Nest sounds like the perfect addition to our podcast. What do you say we compensate you for your guidance? Let's say, three hundred bucks?"
He straightened up, contemplating my proposition for a few moments. Without uttering a word, he extended his hand, and I met it halfway with my own, sealing our agreement with a firm handshake.
Our journey to Raven's Nest was no easy feat. Situated a good twenty miles from town and nestled deep within a dense valley. After all of the tight turns, narrow dirt roads, and steep inclines, it took us a grueling two and a half hours to go twenty-something miles, but we finally reached the outskirts of the infamous settlement. As we stood at the edge of the "Nest," anticipation mingled with trepidation, setting the stage for the eerie exploration that lay ahead.
I glanced at my phone; the time read 11:56 pm, signaling the late hour. Sensing the exhaustion weighing heavily, I suggested we catch a few hours of rest in Lily's jeep. Mark, though visibly unsettled, remained silent from the back seat, his arms folded tightly across his chest as he slumped against the window like a sulking child.
Drifting asleep in the passenger seat, I soon found myself ensnared in a nightmare. In my dream, Mark was being dragged away into the darkness, his desperate attempts to claw his way back to safety only resulting in broken fingertips. Despite his struggles, he was powerless against the unseen force pulling him inexorably into the abyss. Suddenly, I was alone, engulfed in utter darkness, my heart pounding with fear as I ran blindly from an unseen terror that seemed to pursue me relentlessly, its malevolent presence palpable but unseen.
I jolted awake, gasping for breath, my heart racing as the remnants of dread lingered in the pit of my stomach. It was morning, and I was struggling to adjust my vision. Lily's frantic but comforting voice broke through the haze of my terror, grounding me in reality. With her comforting embrace, I gradually calmed my racing thoughts, drawing deep, steadying breaths.
As we sat there, enveloped in each other's embrace, Mark approached the driver's side window with an unexpected question, "Alright, what's for breakfast?" His nonchalant tone and casual demeanor were a stark contrast to the harrowing nightmare that had just consumed my thoughts, momentarily dispelling the lingering specter of fear that had haunted my dreams.
Lily and I both look up at him and back at each other as we burst out into laughter.
Amidst our shared laughter, Lily and I exchanged amused glances before turning our attention back to Mark.
"Ha...ha, yeah. No, but seriously, what's for breakfast? Eggs, bacon, toast, at least?" Mark pressed, hoping for a more substantial response.
His earnest inquiry fueled our laughter further, our giggles echoing through the quiet night air. Eventually, we regained our composure and stepped out of the jeep, stretching our limbs after the cramped confines of the vehicle.
Mark awkwardly moves to the side, still waiting for an honest answer. Lily tossed him a granola bar, eliciting a bemused chuckle from him. With a shared understanding, we set off on foot, embarking on the hike into the town.
The path ahead was clear: a single dirt road that wound its way from the abandoned coal mine into the heart of the small settlement. The road, now overgrown and muddy from years of disuse, bore the marks of neglect and isolation. Wary of the treacherous conditions, Lily opted to forgo the risk of getting stuck, steering clear of the decrepit road that likely hadn't seen a traveler in at least half a century.
We parked Lily's jeep at the entrance to both the mine and the town of Raven's Nest, opting to proceed on foot from there. Standing at the mountain's peak, gazing down at the desolate town below, I couldn't help but ponder the history beneath the dilapidated structures. I imagined how this valley must have once been a pristine landscape cherished by the indigenous people who roamed its lush terrain.
"Jesus, this place is more like a shit nest," Mark muttered in disgust, his disdain evident in his tone.
Lily shot me a knowing glance, silently communicating her skepticism toward Mark's assessment of the town.
Deciding to put Mark's knowledge to the test, I casually inquired, "So, what year was this area founded?"
Mark's reaction was almost defensive as if my question had caught him off guard. He hesitated momentarily before fumbling for his note cards in his pocket, a telltale sign that he wasn't as knowledgeable as he let on.
Before he could respond, I interjected with another question, "Mark, how long have you worked at the museum?"
As Mark froze, his gaze locking onto mine like a deer caught in headlights, I watched him closely, waiting for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. My narrowed eyes bore into his, silently urging him to be honest.
Finally, breaking the tense silence, Mark confessed, "Look, this is only my first week. I... I haven't had the greatest time lately, and I really need the extra money. I'm sorry I lied, but I'll help however I can."
I met his gaze unwaveringly, sensing the sincerity in his words. Clearly, he was a man in need of redemption, grappling with his own personal struggles.
"Alright, alright, don't cry too much," I teased lightly, trying to ease the tension. Gesturing towards Lily, who was busy preparing her wireless motion cameras in her backpack, I continued, "Lily and I already figured that was the case. Honestly, we're surprised you agreed to come along."
Mark remained frozen, but the tension seemed to melt away from his expression, replaced by a tentative smile. It was a moment of shared understanding, a silent acknowledgment that he was still welcomed into our expedition despite his initial deception.
"Alright, I have the cams and portable batteries to make sure the cameras and anything we have with power can last," Lily said, her voice brimming with determination.
We began our descent into the town, our hiking boots struggling against the thick, clinging mud produced by the constant light rain and years of disuse. Each step was a battle, the mud threatening to swallow our boots with every move.
After an eternity of trudging through the muck, we finally reached the town's only paved road—the main road. It had taken us only about fifteen minutes to hike down, but navigating the muddy slope had sapped our energy. We paused for a break, taking a few minutes to clean off our boots and catch our breath.
As we rested, I noticed Lily rummaging through her bag with a focused intensity. Curious, I asked, "What are you looking for?"
"I brought five motion-detecting cameras that I want to set up strategically throughout the town," she replied, pulling out one of the cameras. She walked over to the nearest building, a structure that served as a post office, police station, and fire station. She positioned the camera outside the building so it was pointed at the only road leading in and out of the town.
"We need to cover all potential points of interest," she explained, securing the camera in place. "This one will monitor any activity on the main road. We should place the other cameras around key locations like the mine entrance, the town square, and some more intact buildings."
I nodded, appreciating her thoroughness. "Good idea. We need to make sure we capture anything unusual."
Mark, having finally caught his breath, joined us. "Alright, let's get these cameras set up and see what we can find," he said, a hint of excitement in his voice.
"Look," Lily said, turning her tablet screen toward us. She waved her hand in front of the camera she had just placed. The tablet displayed five squares on the interface, each meant to show a feed from one of the cameras. Since Lily had only set up one camera so far, only the bottom right square showed any footage pointed at the road leading out of town. She stopped waving her hand, and the feed went to a blue screen.
"What happened? Did we lose connection?" Mark asked frantically, his eyes wide with concern.
Lily cackled, struggling to contain her amusement. Composing herself, she waved her hand in front of the camera again, and the bottom right square showed her hand waving once more. "It's motion-activated. It's the best way to save on battery life," she explained.
Mark seemed to relax, though he was still catching his breath after the brief panic.
I glanced at my watch, noting the time. "It's 8:30. We're behind schedule. If you want to place the rest of your cameras, we better move now," I said, walking down the street.
Lily immediately got up and followed me, with Mark struggling to keep pace behind us. We reached the market building, and Lily positioned her second camera on the side of the road, pointing up at the market.
It's not much longer before we make it to the Town Hall. I suggest Lily place a camera nearby. She nods and heads into a building across from the Town Hall labeled, "Slaughterhouse: LOCAL ANIMALS ONLY."
As Lily explores the building to find an adequate spot for the camera, I wait for Mark to catch up. While I wait, I can't help but imagine this town in its prime, picturing the streets filled with families who loved each other.
My thoughts are abruptly cut off by a sound echoing in the distance—a roar unlike any I've ever heard. It was a mix of a human screaming in pain, the roar of a lion, and, near the end, the howl of a wolf. The chilling sound sent shivers down my spine.
I jump to my feet and immediately call out, "Lily, you okay?"
There's no response from Lily, but I'm interrupted by Mark finally catching up, panting heavily.
"Holy... shit... did you... hear that?" Mark said frantically between breaths.
"Yeah, we have to find Lily," I say, bolting into the slaughterhouse. I glance back to see Mark bracing himself on the steps of the Town Hall, struggling to keep up.
As I enter the building, the stench of rotting flesh hits me like a wave, causing me to gag. The smell is too fresh to be decades old.
"Lily? Lily, where are you?" I yell, using my shirt to shield my nose from the overwhelming odor.
"Rory, I'm in here!" I hear Lily yell from a room two doors down. I pass the first door, peeking in to ensure I hadn't misheard, but I wish I hadn't looked.
Inside the first room, I catch a glimpse of what appears to be a pile of animal carcasses, their decayed bodies arranged in a grotesque display. The sight is horrifying, the flesh still disturbingly fresh. The bile rises in my throat, but I force myself to focus on finding Lily.
I rush to the room where her voice came from, pushing the door open. Lily is there, setting up the camera, seemingly oblivious to the horror in the adjacent room. Relief floods through me as I see she's safe.
"Lily, did you hear that roar?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Yeah, I heard it," she replies, her eyes wide with concern. "I was just finishing up here. Let's get back to Mark and figure out what that was." She had placed the camera in a window, pointing directly at the Town Hall.
We hurry back outside, where Mark still catches his breath as we meet between the buildings. "We need to stay together from now on," I say firmly, looking at both of them. "Whatever that noise was, it's not something we want to face alone."
"Let's check out the Town Hall!" Mark says excitedly as he slowly clambers through a broken window.
"Did he not just hear what I said?" I mutter under my breath, shaking my head in disbelief.
Lily gives me a shrug, her eyes reflecting a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Guess we're heading into the Town Hall then," she says, adjusting her backpack and walking towards the broken window.
I sigh and follow suit, hoisting myself up and carefully maneuvering through the jagged glass. Inside, the air is musty, filled with the scent of old paper and decaying wood. Dust motes float lazily in the beams of sunlight streaming through the cracked windows.
The main hall is vast and eerily silent, with rows of empty chairs facing a stage draped in tattered curtains. The walls are lined with faded portraits and yellowed maps of the town, remnants of a time when this place was alive and bustling.
Mark is already at the front, examining a large, decrepit desk. "Look at this," he says, his voice echoing in the empty space. "It's like stepping back in time."
I walk over, glancing at the old papers scattered across the desk. Most are mundane—meeting minutes, maintenance logs—but one catches my eye. It's a letter dated June 1925, addressed to Harper Franstein.
"Harper, the disappearances are becoming more frequent. The townsfolk are getting restless, and I fear they may take matters into their own hands if we don't act soon. We need to find out what's causing this before it's too late."
I read the letter aloud, and the room fell silent. "Sounds like things were getting pretty tense," Lily remarks, her voice subdued.
As I'm distracted by the time capsule in front of us, Mark sneaks off.
I'm not sure how long it was before she noticed, but I saw Lily looking around before saying, "Where the hell did Mark go?" breaking me out of my trance.
I look around, turning my head in all directions, and shrug at Lily. I hear shuffling in the second room down the hall, so I slowly walk toward it.
"Mark?" I call out.
Just then, a loud crash reverberates through the building, making it sound like the whole place was about to come down.
We run in and see Mark struggling to keep himself from falling into a giant hole that must've broken under his weight. Trying not to laugh, I glance at Lily. We help him up as he dramatically falls onto his back, wheezing as he catches his breath.
Lily and I can't contain our laughter anymore as we bust out laughing hard. Startled by our sudden outburst, Mark jumps in fear. He looks around, confused for a few seconds, before realizing that we are laughing at him.
"Jesus, thanks, I guess," he says, clearly thankful but annoyed by our reaction.
After we contained ourselves, we headed back outside, exiting through the window Mark entered through. He struggles to climb out, but after Lily gives him a hand, he is safely out of the Town Hall.
"Alright, Ror, where should we put the next camera?" Lily asks me.
I stop to think momentarily, trying to picture the town's layout. "I think the only place left is the neighborhood," I respond confidently. I always talk like that with Lily. Over the years, I've realized she is the only person I can have that much confidence around. With anyone else, I'm worried about saying something stupid or wrong or how they'll view me, but with my sister, everything is easy.
As I look at the replica map of the town in its heyday from the museum, I determine that the neighborhood is to the East. "Okay, looks like we head East past the Library. Let's go." I say, walking away.
It only takes about eight minutes to get to the long strip of road that housed the town's workers. According to the map, there were fifteen houses along this strip of road.
The houses stand eerily silent, their wooden frames weathered and decayed by time. We walk down the road, our footsteps crunching on the gravel and echoing in the stillness. The air feels heavier here like the past is watching us, waiting to reveal its secrets.
"Let's put the last cameras on that house at the end of the road," I suggest, pointing to a house that looks slightly less dilapidated than the others, "another one at the last house on the other side, and the last we can save for a spot you choose."
Lily nods and heads toward the first house, pulling another camera from her backpack. She sets it up on the porch, positioning it to capture the entire street, and does the same in the opposite house. As I stand with Mark breathing hard, still unable to catch his breath since we first got here, I can't shake the feeling that we're being watched. I glance around nervously but see nothing out of the ordinary.
"All set," Lily says, breaking my reverie, "Still no ideas for the last cam?" Lily asks me.
"Like I said, wherever you think it would be best. I feel like we have enough good spots and angles, so go wild with that one," I told her.
She smirked and kept walking next to me. Mark was still struggling behind, but after the town hall mishap, he was trying his best to keep up. I looked at my watch, and it read '12:30 pm'.
"Holy shit, it's already 12:30," I said in amazement, but no one else seemed fazed. It felt like we'd only been here thirty minutes, not almost four hours.
We walked back down the street. Lily and I had been discussing on the walk that she should put the last camera at the town's only stoplight in front of the Library.
As we made our way to it, I could have sworn I was seeing something moving fast past my vision in the corner of my eye. Every time I turned to look, it was gone. I chalked it up to being my imagination until Lily and Mark both experienced the same thing.
"What the fuck was that?" Mark asked as he ducked, bracing for something terrible to happen. Lily and I looked back at him and then at each other as we shrugged. It was after that that I started seeing things, too.
I confided in Lily about the unsettling visions and sounds, and she admitted she had experienced the same phenomena but had kept quiet, fearing Mark would dismiss her as paranoid.
"Well, it's probably just a cat or something," I said, attempting to downplay the situation, but neither seemed convinced.
We continued our trek, and I noticed that the more we walked, the more frequently I caught fleeting glimpses of movement in my peripheral vision. It was beginning to grate on my nerves.
Finally, we reached the light in front of the Library. As Lily mounted the camera, I felt a sense of satisfaction. We were making good progress, and it seemed like a suitable moment to start exploring the town more freely. We decided to split up and cover different sections of the town.
"Wait, we have to go alone? Why can't we stay together like you said?" Mark asked frantically, but Lily and I ignored him as we headed in separate directions. He continued to protest, but we paid him no mind. Eventually, I was either far enough away to not hear him anymore, or he had given up. Either way, I was happy to enjoy the eerie silence of the town.
As I wandered, the stillness of Raven's Nest enveloped me. With its decrepit buildings and overgrown streets, the town exuded an unsettling charm. It was as if I had stepped into a forgotten world, a place frozen in time with secrets waiting to be unearthed. The ambiance reminded me of an amusement park's haunted town section—artificially eerie yet irresistibly intriguing. Despite the creepiness, the mysterious vibe of the town kept me engaged and eager to explore its hidden corners.
I glanced at my watch again, only to find the time glaring back at me: 3:19 pm. It couldn't be right. There was no way it had been that long since I last checked. Panic seized me, and I called out for Lily, my voice tinged with urgency. She appeared beside me in a matter of minutes, her expression mirroring my concern.
"What's up, Ror? You okay?" she asked, her voice laced with worry.
"How long would you say it's been since you put the last camera down?" I inquired, my heart pounding in my chest.
Lily's brow furrowed as she struggled to come up with an answer. "Uh, I don't know, thirty minutes?" she hazarded a guess.
I held up my watch, displaying the time: 3:20 pm. Lily fell silent, her eyes widening in disbelief. She was never great with time, but missing almost three hours of our memory was unprecedented.
"There's no way. Your watch must be—" Lily began, her voice trailing off as she checked her own watch, only to freeze in shock when she found it displayed the same time as mine.
"Lil, something is going on," I stated, my voice tight and apprehensive. I glanced up at the sky, my stomach churning as I noticed the clouds darkening and rolling in from all sides of the valley.
The sky closed rapidly, ominous clouds obscuring the sun as thunder rumbled ominously against the mountains.
"Mark? Mark, where are—" I began to call out, but before I could finish, Mark emerged from behind a wall, appearing as if he'd been too frightened to venture far on his own.
"We have to get inside!" Mark exclaimed urgently, his voice tinged with fear.

When I try to send solana through trezor suit it asked for a passphrase but I dont have one, this isnt a hidden wallet. However I then send any other coin, I go back to solana and it lets me send withotu asking for passphrase, im very confused. Almost thought I lost all my solana

Sitting on my couch, binge-watching my favorite show, I realized that time management was just not my forte. There were a pile of bills to be paid on the table, a laundry basket overflowing with dirty clothes, a sink full of dishes, and here I was, losing myself in the world of fictional characters.
This is when I realized I had to do something. Not just some run-of-the-mill time management hacks, I needed to think out of the box to manage my time effectively. And that's when I stumbled upon the concept of lateral thinking.
Instead of approaching my chores sequentially, which was boring and monotonic, I decided to experiment with lateral thinking. I started looking for ways to overlap and integrate tasks. I'd listen to a podcast I enjoy while doing dishes or folding laundry. I started paying bills online while waiting for my coffee to brew.
Then, I'd take some time to relax and indulge in my show, but with a twist. For every episode I watched, I did a 5-minute task like clean up, feed the fish, or water the plants during the ads. Instead of feeling drained and guilty after a Netflix marathon, I actually felt productive!
Through lateral thinking, not only did I finish my chores in a relatively shorter time, but I also found a way to make them enjoyable. Instead of mundane tasks, they turned into mini recreation breaks, making my day less stressful.
So my fellow procrastinators and time management strugglers, if you find yourself stuck in a rut, try lateral thinking. It will not only help you manage your time better, it will also make the process much more enjoyable!
P.S. I know this story sounds like something out of a self-help book, don't worry. It's just a hypothetical situation, but imagine how cool it would be if you actually managed your time like this. Who knew watching Netflix could actually help manage your time better? Haha! So, don't be shy to try out these mental models in your day-to-day life! You never know when 'watching TV' might just be the answer to all your time management issues!

Want to bring my folding bike with me on an international flight and saw that cebu pacific has a baggage option for sports equipment. I don't have a bike box but I still have with me the carton box of my folding bike. I'm planning to secure it with bubble wrap to be sure.
Has anyone tried checking in their bikes with ceb pac? Is it allowed to check it in with the carton box that comes with it?

Ok. I bought DogeVerse in presale with bnb using trust wallet and MetaMask (same wallet address for both.) I'm struggling to claim my tokens. I have connected via the website using my safari browser, through my trust wallet dapp browser, MetaMask dapp browser and even through the telegram claim link. But no matter which one I try, I can't claim. The "sign transaction" window won't pop up. It just tells me to "return to the app to continue using their services". I've tried hundreds of times. Only 1 time, when I was connecting through MetaMask, the transaction sign window did pop up, but I didn't have enough bnb to complete the transaction, (I underestimated the gas fees) so I had to cancel it. But now I can't get it to come up again. It shows me the amount I have to be claimed on the website, I just can't get it to go through again. I have cleared all of the caches and cookies everywhere. No luck. Any tech geniuses that can help me figure out what's wrong? It has to be on dogeverse's side because I don't have any trouble completing any other transactions. Please help me!!!

After 4 years, she broke up with me because she felt like she was putting in more effort than me in our relationship and ended up feeling insecure, unlovable, and heartbroken. I block her on literally everything and end up folding the next day texting her in the morning… We talk and agree to have a “last date” the next week. The date happens and everything goes great. We laugh, smile together, reminisce about the past, make out and more… Now she says she loves me and is afraid to lose me but afraid of losing herself more. She still calls me baby, talks about a future together, reads my letters and texts me but doesn’t want to be together, “afraid that I’ll stop trying if she comes back”. Im in a limbo and I can’t think rationally. I tried talking to her about it but she said let’s talk about it tomorrow so I’m just waiting. I asked her when’s the next time we can see each other, she says in 2 weeks. I can’t sleep and I need answers or someone rational. I don’t know how to describe this situation, are we on a break? Is she actually seeing someone else? I feel like she might be stringing me along until someone else comes in the picture. If she actually loved me she would try to work things out so I’m just really confused. If someone has been in a similar situation to mine please help me :) All input is appreciated

I am trying to bridge from Base to ETH network as a I accidentally bought in both and want them all in one network. In CB Wallet the bridge function is disabled. Only swap works?

For about a month now I've had a cyst(?)/abscess near my right side labia majora that keeps flaring up with tenderness. It's not a Bartholin cyst as it's not in the same area one would be, more towards the fold where the skin meets the thigh. This came up while I was on antibiotics to settle down a different abscess that's on my butt cheek. I since then had a separate course of Doxycycline for a week in the hope it would help but although the tenderness eased unfortunately the lump persisted and now I've finished the course the tenderness is flaring up again.. I used hibiscrub for five days in the area before but that didn't seem to do much to help (though I think I probably used it wrong). Should I try using that again in the area in the hope it would help? I don't want to keep going on and off antibiotics and becoming resistant to them, and I fear leaving things because I have severe health anxiety and start worrying about sepsis etc. I also feel like I'm constantly back and forth to my doctors trying to figure out what to do. Getting a dermatologist appointment isn't an easy option either as it takes months here. Anyone know the best way to tackle this? Hot wash cloths don't seem to help much. (I only have a shower so no baths)
Edited to add: was given dalacin t lotion (clindamycin phosphate) by the doctor the last time I saw them when I was still on Doxycycline who said to just apply this if I had tenderness flare up again at some point but no instructions on for how long or how to use it. I also know this is more for acne than cysts or abscesses so idk how I feel about using it. Anyone got any experience with this?
Thanks for any advice!

It's difficult to find someone who doesn't have strong opinions about which of the different types of cake flavors is the best. Each of us has a favorite type and flavor.
It may be a mile-high, rich and sweet layer cake with lots of frosting for some. Others prefer a lighter cake with a dollop of whipped cream and fresh berries, such as angel food cake.
Some people will only eat homemade cakes when it comes to birthday cakes, but a few of us enjoy a good old-fashioned grocery store cake or even a cookie cake with a letter scribbled in tube icing.
Whatever your preferences, knowing the facts about different types of cake flavors is beneficial. Cakes are ideal for sweets, gatherings, celebrations, and pretty much everything else.
There are many distinct cake flavors, and You can combine them in many ways, such as red velvet and vanilla cakes.
Nowadays, you can make cakes in almost any flavor and shape. There is a great cake flavor out there for whatever occasion or craving.
However, not all flavors complement one other. Some flavor combinations are simply superior to others. Cakes are a delectable and traditional part of any celebration, and it is your responsibility as a baker and host to provide the best options available.
Without much ado, let's discuss some of th different types of cake flavors available.

1. Yellow Butter Cake

A sheet cake variation of this delicacy, covered with billows of chocolate frosting and rainbow sprinkles, is served at many kids' birthday parties.
Also, c the butter and sugar together (with an electric mixer in modern times) is a standard method for making yellow butter cakes, then adding dry and wet ingredients.
There are also "dump" variations, in which all of the ingredients are simply combined in a bowl.

2. Red Velvet Cake

A chemical reaction between cocoa powder and acidic buttermilk turns red velvet cake scarlet, but a drop of red food coloring makes the bright cake shine.
The delectable cream cheese frosting is an absolute must. This is a true Southern classic and a great favorite. The color of red velvet cake derives from the reaction of buttermilk and cocoa powder when made with either butter or oil.
Also, modern variations often use red food coloring, or in the instance of the raspberry velvet cake shown here, pink food coloring.

3. Pound Cake

This cake doesn't rise much when baking and has a dense texture. It's named after the fact that it's made using a pound of each of the key ingredients (flour, butter, and sugar).
Matcha and cocoa powder is used in our version, although vanilla essence is used in traditional recipes. Bake one of these in a loaf pan or a Bundt pan. This is one of the different types of cake flavors.

4. Carrot Cake

Carrot cake is a shorter cake leavened with baking soda and baking powder and utilizes oil instead of butter as its primary fat.
Also, The inclusion of grated carrots adds moisture to the cake. Warm spices flavor the carrot cake, topped with a luscious cream cheese frosting. Walnuts or pecans are optional!.
Furthermore, Carrot cake recipes vary in the quantity and amount of spices used and the addition of nuts and fruit.
Still, tender chunks of sweet carrot, an ideal dosage of cinnamon, and a fantastic frosting are what make a perfect carrot cake. Try our Carrot Cake Cupcakes recipe.

5. Sponge Cake

This foam-style cake has no artificial leaveners (baking powder or baking soda). It is entirely made up of whipped eggs, either whole or just whites.
This cake can be soaked in flavored syrups (try lemon syrup with a dab of lemon curd) or stacked with whipped cream and smashed berries.
Sponge cake can be rolled with fillings when baked thin in a sheet pan, like Buche de Noel's Christmas classic.

6. Genoise Cake

In Italy and France, a sponge cake is known as Genoise. Egg yolks, egg whites, and sugar are mixed together until mousse-like in this dessert. The flour, oil, or butter is then folded in. This cake is moister and more delicate than its sponge cake counterpart.

7. Chiffon Cake

A chiffon cake is a sponge cake and an oil cake hybrid. It has the richness of a shorter cake thanks to the addition of oil, and it's light and airy thanks to whipped egg whites and baking powder.

8. Angel Food Cake

Angel food cake is the lightest of the light, created with only beaten egg whites for leavening and no extra fat. It's traditionally made in an angel food cake pan and then cooled upside down in the pan to keep the light texture. Its high sugar content in an angel food cake gives it a chewy, sponge-like feel.

9. Funfetti Cake

Funfetti is a joyful and fun dessert that has received a lot of love from its fans, earning it the eighth slot on this list. Also, Funfetti is a delightful birthday cake with colorful sprinkles both inside and out. This is one of the different types of cake flavors.

10. Vanilla Cake

Vanilla is, believe it or not, the third most popular and well-liked cake flavor. It's flexible and goes well with various flavors, including chocolate, lemon, and strawberry.

11. Coffee Cake

They're tasty and come in various coffee flavors, including Irish and Mocha. Also, this cake is ideal for coffee enthusiasts as a treat.

12. Banana Cake

The banana cake is the cake flavor that makes you go bananas. It has a juicy texture and an overpowering flavor. This is one of the different types of cake flavors.

13. Pineapple Cake

The pineapple, like the cake, is a beautiful element for desserts. The cake has a refreshing flavor and a stunning appearance.

I hope you understand as I am using a translator.
A few days ago, my mother signed up for and used the KuCoin exchange.
As it was my first time using the KuCoin exchange, I traded little by little at first to build trust, but when I saw that withdrawals were fast, I deposited a large amount.
And when I tried to withdraw money to my wallet, it did not work.
And When I contacted KuCoin customer service, they asked for additional personal information.
In order to provide the information requested by KuCoin, the mother spent a lot of time and effort organizing the information and sending it to KuCoin, but so far KuCoin has just told her to wait.
Is it really right for KuCoin to hold $280,000 in customer funds hostage, demand unreasonable personal information, then freeze coin withdrawals even after customers submit their personal information to the exchange, and simply tell customers to wait?
The bottom line is that my mom couldn't sleep all day today because of this problem.
Please withdraw the money quickly.
Later, I searched on the Internet and found that many similar problems occurred here. And I found this place by chance, and I'm posting here to find a quick solution.

I've been searching for folding e-bikes and the SuperHuman ShapeShifter looks really interesting. Somewhat similar fold as a Brompton but having its own distinct look. Comes with 2 configurations (standard vs pro) with the pro obviously having better specs but also includes throttle.
They're doing pre-orders now for a good discount. If this was a belt drive with an internal gear hub, I would've ordered it already.
Anybody pre-order this bike?

Content Warning: This story contains themes of mental health issues, suicide and physical violence.
Prosopagnosia v. Cotard's Syndrome
My new doctor - a bright and friendly guy named Sarbjit - took the time to explain his diagnosis to me. He told me my condition was mental, not physical, but it was hard to pay attention to everything he said because my left arm was numb and rotting from the inside out. I smiled and nodded and then when I got home I looked up Cotard’s Syndrome online. Here is what Wikipedia had to say on it.
“Cotard's syndrome, also known as ‘Cotard's delusion’ or ‘Walking Corpse Syndrome’, is a rare mental disorder in which the affected person holds the delusional belief that they are dead, do not exist, are putrefying, or have lost their blood or internal organs.”
I don’t know. Sounded extremely strange to me. I just knew my left arm was dying. Maybe my liver too. I used my right arm, the good one, to open my mail. Most of it was just the normal stuff but when I saw the letter from the Supreme Court of the State of New York I got a little worried. I was here legally - a citizen for almost ten years now - and I knew my rights but being summoned to testify at this criminal trial was a bit unnerving. I didn’t like it. I just try to do my best in this life and mind my own business and not cause problems for others.
When my trial appearance date arrived two months later I took the subway downtown and left my assistant, Stavvy, in charge of the office that day. I sat there on a hard wooden bench in the courtroom all morning listening to the testimony of other witnesses but I wasn’t called to the stand until sometime after we returned from lunch. Eventually, the lawyer for the defense called my name.
She mispronounced it of course - people here always mispronounce Albanian names - so I wasn’t surprised when she called me Mister Shka-Rell-Eee. My surname is Shkreli, after the place where my family comes from, and the proper pronunciation contains only two syllables - Shkrell-Eee. I was trying to hold my left arm in place when she asked her opening question.
Where was I at the time of the murder?
“Well, Miss Anderson” - I pronounced it Ahnd-REE-Sawn, drawing out the first and last syllables while placing too much emphasis on the middle one, intentionally - “I am not entirely certain. That was over a year ago and I travel all around this city on a daily basis for my job. I work in computer repair and IT support and I have customers in all five boroughs.” (This wasn’t exactly true. I wasn’t really willing to travel to Staten Island.) We had spoken four months earlier when she informed me of the questions she intended to ask at trial but I was fairly oblique then and I intended to remain so now. I had bigger problems. Could these people not see that my left arm was rotting away?
She looked at me with a furrowed brow and briskly walked back to the defense table, picked up a leather-bound notepad and opened it.
“Mister Shkreli, when you and I spoke on June 18th you confirmed that you were just leaving a client’s office, TRG Commercial Realty, located at 223 Broome Street here in lower Manhattan at approximately 3:30pm that day, shortly before the incident at issue took place less than one block away. Is that not correct?”
I turned up my native eastern European accent a bit and repositioned my left arm in my lap. I could barely feel it at that point. What was wrong with these people?
“If you say so. Like I said, that was over a year ago and it was just another workday for me.”
She stared at me for a beat or two longer than necessary and then flashed a quick look towards the jurors before continuing.
“Well yes, Mister Shkreli” - again it was Shka-Rell-Eee - “You did tell me that and I do have a recording of our conversation, which you consented to before we began, if the court would like this to be entered into evidence?”
She looked at the judge and the judge looked at me.
“Mister Shkreli,” - he too pronounced it Shka-Rell-Eee - ‘Are you refuting the testimony that Miss Anderson is referencing during your preliminary deposition or can we just move on at this point? If counsel for the defense claims to have this recording I am fairly certain this is true. Will it be necessary to enter this recording into evidence at this time or are you willing to acknowledge Miss Anderson’s claim?”
I repositioned my left arm in my lap and nodded.
“That’s fine, Your Honor. As I said, it was just another workday for me but if Miss Anderson says that is what we discussed I am sure she is probably right.”
The judge nodded back at me. “Very good. Let’s proceed then.”
Miss Anderson walked back to the defense table and dropped the leather-bound notepad before continuing with her final question for me, looking annoyed.
“Picking up where we left off, Mister Shkreli, can you please describe for the court what happened immediately after you left the offices of TRG Commercial Realty at 223 Broome Street on the date in question, October 22nd of last year?”
I didn’t like the way that she was trying to fence me in but I wasn't particularly concerned. I had bigger problems.
“Well, like I said, I don’t really remember that day. There was nothing memorable about it. It was just another day.”
She stared at me for a few seconds then flashed a quick look at the jury box with her eyebrows raised before returning her attention to the judge. “No more questions, Your Honor.”
I was dismissed from the stand but asked to remain in the courtroom as she called her next witness; a small, frail woman from Queens about my same age named Maureen Stewart. She had an odd, twitchy nature about her. I wanted to get home. I wanted to relax.
“Miss Stewart, can you please tell the court where you were on October 22nd of last year at approximately 3:30 in the afternoon?”
The witness looked down for a moment and then glanced towards the judge before removing the slightly confused look from her face and responding in a semi-automated tone.
“Yes, Miss Anderson. At that time, I was just leaving my day shift at the FedEx Office Store (she pronounced it ‘Staw’ in her thick New York accent) on Broome Street and I was walking towards the station for the Six Train to begin my ride back home.”
The attorney for the defense took a momentary pause and then asked her next question.
“And can you please tell us what happened then?”
The witness looked down again and then looked back at the judge, then the jury and, finally, at me. I didn’t like the way she looked at me.
“Yes, as I was leaving my workplace I crossed the street and I remember walking past the entrance to a narrow alleyway where I heard a commotion taking place. It made me stop and look for a second or two but I didn’t want to get involved so I just kept on walking towards the subway and I didn’t think too much about the whole thing until the Homicide detectives contacted me a few days later after they pulled the security camera videos. I came down to the police station the day after that and gave my statement. That was just over a year ago.”
Miss Anderson took a moment to stare at me. I didn’t like that either. I adjusted my left arm in my lap. It was completely numb.
“Thank you, Miss Stewart. Can you please be a bit more specific about what you saw occurring in that alleyway?”
Again, the witness looked down at the floor and then her eyes shot all around the courtroom before she responded.
“Well,” she said, before taking a brief pause. “At first I thought it was just a little scuffle but when I saw the shorter man in the black jacket punch the tall man in the belly a few times I saw some blood starting to spread on the side of his white button-down shirt and I saw what looked like a small knife or something in the shorter man’s hand. The tall thin man looked like he was starting to fall. I remember looking around for a police officer but I certainly wasn’t gonna do anything about it by myself. I mean, what could I do? When I didn’t see no one who could help I just kept on walking towards the subway. I guess I should have done more but I was scared and I just wanted to get back to Forest Hills to pick up my daughter from daycare before five o’clock.”
I glanced at the defendant seated at the table on the left. He looked both hopeful and nervous at the same time, but in a subtle way, like he didn’t want to appear to be either. He kept his head down and never once glanced towards the jury box. Miss Anderson asked her final question.
“Thank you, Miss Stewart. And do you see the man in the black jacket who stabbed the victim, Mister Baronston, on that day last October here in the courtroom now?”
Again the witness looked down at the floor between her feet for a moment and then looked back up, right at me. I felt my blood stop flowing through my veins, or at least through my left arm and the top of my right leg, when she raised up her hand and pointed her index finger at me.
“It was that man, there,” she said.
Miss Anderson nodded and paused for a moment, satisfied, letting it sink in for the jury members. I was stunned. The stylish defense attorney in the toney, expensive clothing began walking back in my direction and she too pointed an accusatory finger.
“If it pleases the court, let the record show that Miss Stewart has identified Mister Jack Shkreli as the attacker who she witnessed in the-”
Just then the witness on the stand, Miss Stewart, pointed her finger at the judge without really looking at him and suddenly blurted out, “Or him. It might have been him too. I’m not 100% sure...”
Miss Anderson paused, clearly nonplussed, and just stared at her witness. The judge also looked baffled for a second or two and then leaned over and whispered something to his court assistant and the two of them shared a quiet smirk.
Then the witness pointed at one of the jurors, a man in the front row about my size.
“Or him. It could have been him. I’m just not sure...” Then she went silent, as did the rest of the courtroom for a few moments. The State’s Attorney, a heavy-set bald man, broke the silence pretty quickly as he rose to his feet.
“Your Honor, the State would like to move to dismiss this witness along with all previous testimony.” He paused briefly and took a deep breath, choosing his next words.
“While we appreciate Miss Stewart’s willingness to appear at trial today, I think it’s clear that her recollection of events is…uncertain at best.” He glared at the defense table for a moment, then added “I’d just like to remind the court that Mister Shkreli” - and God bless him, he pronounced my two-syllable surname correctly - “is not on trial here and if this witness cannot distinguish the man she saw that day from yourself or a random member of our jury panel I don’t think we can accept this testimony or any further testimony from this witness.”
He hung his head respectfully, with the tiniest little smile on his face. He already knew he had won this argument and the judge quickly agreed, telling the jury to disregard what they just heard. Miss Stewart was dismissed from the stand and the defense had no other witnesses left to call. Less than two hours later the jury returned a guilty verdict against the defendant on all counts and the courtroom was cleared. The sentencing hearing would take place at a later date and I was not required to be there. My right leg was starting to feel numb by then but I still managed to get back to the office in time for Stavvy to head home at the end of his shift to make dinner for his kids. His wife was killed in a car accident two years earlier. He was a hard worker and I really liked him.
That night, back at my apartment, I did some research online and learned about a rare mental disorder known as Prosopagnosia. Here is what Wikipedia had to say.
Prosopagnosia, also known as face blindness, is a cognitive disorder of face perception in which the ability to recognize familiar faces, including one's own face (self-recognition), is impaired, while other aspects of visual processing (e.g. object discrimination) and intellectual functioning remain intact.
It all sounded pretty strange to me but if the doctors say it’s real who am I to argue? Apparently it is well documented in the DSM-5. I don’t know if this is the reason why I was able to walk away from the courtroom without consequence at first but I think it is the most likely explanation. I only know that when I left my client’s offices at TRG Commercial Realty on that day just over a year ago and hailed a cab I was stunned and confused when Mister Baronston, a complete stranger with a hostile face, suddenly attacked me, claiming that it was his cab and not mine.
He was bigger than me, tall and thin but strong, and I would have just given up the cab and caught the next one but he was clearly already very angry about something. When he backed me towards the alley, shoving me and then punching me around my head and neck, my backpack tumbled open and I saw my wallet and phone and some other items come crashing out onto the pavement. It was just a stupid and unnecessary altercation, the kind of thing that probably happens on the streets of this city every day, sadly. Too many people, not enough space. I did my best to fight back and protect myself but he was a good deal bigger than me.
Then I was getting punched some more and thrown against the alley wall as people passed by, disinterested, and I just instinctively reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the pen knife that has been attached to my keychain for years. Before I really knew what was happening it was open and then my right hand was growing warm and red and slick with his blood. Then I was moving again, not looking back.
What an odd thing. I remember seeing Miss Stewart stopping there on the sidewalk to look from the mouth of the alley that day. Of all the passers-by, she was the only one who paused to look at us, at me, right as I desperately punctured Mister Baronston’s rib cage for the fifth or sixth time with my little penknife and he began to drop, but she averted her gaze after a few seconds and moved on and then I was rapidly heading in the opposite direction. This is a huge city and I never expected to see her face again. Fortunately, she was apparently never really able to see mine.
Anyway, I have more important problems to worry about at this time. Stavvy received a letter from the Manhattan DA’s office yesterday ordering him to appear at a grand jury hearing next month related to my involvement in Mister Baronston’s death. He showed it to me. More importantly, my left arm is just about gone now, my right leg is quickly starting to feel the same way and in just the last day or two I have begun feeling that strange tingling sensation in the tips of the fingers on my right hand. I know my liver is failing. It won’t be long now.
I scheduled a meeting with my lawyer in the morning to legally put the business and the rest of my assets in Stavvy’s name in my will. I have no family here anyway and almost no relatives who I remain close with back in Albania or Montenegro anymore. Stavvy is a good man and he has kids to feed and I have already lived a full life.
So yes, I will just leave it all to him and after that’s done I think I will get the old Ford minivan that we sometimes still use for the business and drive it out to the George Washington Bridge while I am still able. I know that when I stop it and get out and leave it there on the center-span I will screw up traffic badly and inconvenience a lot of people but I can’t worry about that. I have to do what I have to do. There’s no point in waiting for this to get worse. I can barely feel the fingers on my right hand and I don’t have much time left.
Maybe I should have told the truth at the trial. I don’t know. I think I was just too distracted by all of my health problems. I didn’t really have any choice at the time. I don’t have any choice now. I’m actually surprised that I lasted this long. I was certain that I would already be gone a few months ago but I feel I have done my best with this life.
As my people back in Albania say, Mos pyet si vdiq, por si rrojti!
“Do not ask how he died, but how he lived!”
THE END

Let me clarify from the outset that I'm from Uttarakhand and this analysis is based on my understanding of UP politics.
I know people who support BJP have been disappointed with the result but nothing much has changed in UP politics. Modi is still popular and so is Yogi. There have been multiple reason for this performance of BJP.

1. Dilution of Ideology : If you ask me the biggest reason for this defeat is dilution of ideology. BJP's pitch has always been better law and order in UP. BJP was successful in linking SP with gunda raj but once they gave Padma Vibhushan to Mulayam their plank got diluted. Imagine you're a BJP worker on ground reminding people of SP gunda raj and the other person counters you by saying, then why did you give award to Mulayam. You legitimised their rule in UP.
   
2. Appeasement : BJP had always accused Congress of appeasement but they got embroiled in the same swamp in order to increase their voter base. BJP's core voters were General Category and Urban Population. They were able to mix other voter base through 'social engineering'. They targeted Non-Yadav OBC's and Non-Jatav SC's. Both these group happily sided with BJP because they didn't like Jatavs and Yadavs having power. In 2024 BJP tried bringing Yadavs and Jatavs into its fold too. They gave people from these castes important posts in the party structure thinking they'll get votes. But this is where they went wrong, Non-Yadav OBC's and Non-Jatav SC's saw it as a betrayal. SP was proactive in realising this and gave more tickets to Non-Yadavs this time. Infact this was the main difference in SP(UP) and RLD(Bihar). Both are Yadav parties but Akhilesh gave only 10% tickets to Yadavs whereas Tejaswi Yadav gave majority seats to Yadav candidates. Add Non-Yadav OBC votes to SP due to candidate selection and Non-Jatav SC votes to Congress, you'll get the same result. Pasi community specially voted en masse to Indi Block. Remember, no matter how much abuse SC's and OBC's might give to GC(Specially Brahmins and Kshatriyas), their main opponent are people from their own category. You won't get Yadav/Jatav/Muslim votes in UP because they have their own party. Yadavs have SP, Jatavs have BSP and Muslims have Congress. Appeasing these communities will bring diminishing return. Infact there's widespread anger against BJP in Uttarakhand as it gave award to Mulayam who opened fire against Uttarakhand state agitators. I know many BJP supporters who stayed at home and didn't vote due to anger. Same news I got from Ayodhya where one of my friend who is from Bhardwaj community said his family didn't vote this time as they felt cheated since Mulayam was awarded Padma Vibhushan.
   

The way ahead for BJP is not that hard because the increase in votes that SP and Congress have gotten in this election is not permanent. These are transactional voters who will switch sides very easily. All that BJP has to do is stop appeasing Yadavs and Jatavs. Remove people who hail from these castes from your party unless they are committed to your ideology. Bring back people from Non-Yadav OBCs and Non-Jatav SCs and give them important position in your party.
Here I would like to clarify some myths too.

1. Yogi favors Thakurs: This is thoroughly wrong, this has been said about Yogi not only by his detractors but also his supporters. There are Insta/Twitter account who proclaim Yogi to be some sort of Thakur Icon. Sorry to burst your bubble but Yogi is from Uttarakhand and will have close to zero affinity towards Thakurs of UP. I myself am a Garhwali Brahmin and feel no sense of community towards UP Brahmins. Don't get me wrong, I respect UP culture and have great regards for it but my biases will only come for people of Uttarakhand. Yogi would be no different, I've seen him face to face in 4 social gatherings. All were related to Uttarakhand culture. He makes sure he takes out time for such social gatherings. Even if I were to take into account his biases, it won't be towards any caste from UP. You can corroborate what I'm saying with any person from Uttarakhand.
   
2. Rift between Yogi and Central Leadership : Though there have always been differences between Yogi and central leadership, this doesn't mean central leadership is trying to undermine Yogi or Yogi will make BJP lose in UP. These are over exaggerated talks. Yogi has been with this party for forever, he takes ownership of this party. Central leadership too knows they are nothing in UP without Yogi.
   

As the title suggests, my post is kind of just to say that it really is the little things that mean the most to you but also to your partner.
An example I can provide off the top of my head is one instance where my partner had a really bad cold. I had a cold as well and he was trying so hard to help me but his cold was worse than mine (as I was on the recovering side of things) and he was just getting into it.
I helped him to the shower, I helped him strip down and got him to sit on the shower floor to stay at a good temperature and for the steam to help him breathe. I then took his car keys from the counter and told him to stay sitting there until I got back (I was barely 19 at the time) and he tried to give me his debit card with his keys because “You gotta drive so you need this and get gatorades” which in his semi delusional state on cold meds was adorable because I had just finished telling him what I was going to do with his car (turns out he had planned to stop for gas in the morning before work, he had literally next to no gas in it). So without telling him, I stuck his debit card back in his wallet and took my card and got him his favourite Gatorade and a full tank of gas.
The reason I consider this a “little thing” is because I never told him that I put gas in his car, it wasn’t a huge deal to me, but it meant a lot to him because he wasn’t expecting me to freeze my ass off in -40c to put gas in his car and get him Gatorade, he thought I was just driving across the way to a corner store. The next day when he got sent home from work because he was still sick, he just hugged me and said “You didn’t have to do that”.
It’s not all about the “grand gesture” it’s about the little things that add up over time. This is the same man that remembered a teacher in high school recommended a pizza place for me to try in the city I was going to university in and hadn’t gotten around to yet as money was tight and despite me only mentioning it once in passing, he remembered and took me there for our one year anniversary. Another thing he has done for me, that he considers a “little thing” (although to me it was this huge deal and I’ll love him forever for it) was that I had mentioned to him that once I’m done university and Stars on Ice passes through our city again, I want to take him to see the show because I’ve always dreamt of going but had never gotten to. That same day, he messaged me that he googled it, it is my childhood hero’s last tour and he bought us tickets to go “because I so rarely mention stuff like that” so he thought it would be a great surprise (he was right, of course). What made it so big to me and so little to him, was that he has no interest in figure skating, I’m the one that figure skated growing up and love it.

Hi, I recently got a Samsung Galaxy S24 Ultra, an extremely powerful device and kind of wonderful--DeX also works fairly well for my needs, especially with the very nice and lightProtoArc tri-fold keyboard this subreddit recommended recently.
I'm really surprised how much better this is even than my current convertible laptop from a few years ago (Acer Spin 3); it has better specs, battery, and much more portable and lightweight. The specs even rival my decent desktop I built in 2020! (except GPU, but I'm not even a big gamer anymore lol)
These days, I'm out of my home a whole lot more, and I'll be traveling a lot internationally this summer. I had planned to bring my laptop, but with this unexpected phone upgrade, I've found I might be saving a ton of space and weight just to take my phone. DeX mode is really neat, though, and I'd love to be able to set up an impromptu desktop when I'm on the go... so I've been searching for a portable monitor or any sort of screen.
So, I'm asking for any ideas, even out-there ones, on specific portable monitors, if you have them!
I know nothing will fit ALL of these criteria, but anything that fits several of them would be good to consider:

• Under $150 USD
• Under 1kg (under 750g even better)
• Has its own power supply (not a must-have, actually)
• Less than 15-inch screen, but greater than 9-inch (since the S24 is already 6.8-inch itself)
• Easy to set up in a coffee shop and connect to DeX in just a few moments.

This is just a nice-to-have, not a must, so I haven't quite found anything yet that's quite in my price range. I'm not super interested in a full Lapdock--I already have a mouse and keyboard, and the weight difference isn't big enough (my current laptop is 2.5kg and the Nexdock is 1.2kg alone, for example)--and they're a bit expensive. The Nexpad looks quite nice, but I've heard it's pretty heavy on phone battery. (Nex also doesn't ship to Japan where I live now, but can always order once I'm in the U.S. for a few weeks) and the UPERFECT monitors are WAY out of price range (not to mention also don't ship to Japan).
Searching on online platforms like Amazon JP and Rakuten, I'm just not finding anything that's not prohibitively expensive. I don't need a super high quality screen for gaming, just something to carry around in my backpack so I can use DeX mode on the go. Good screen quality and touch screen and lots of ports is nice, but not necessary for me.
Beyond dedicated portable monitors and docks with screens, I briefly looked into something like an ancient cheap Android tablet, but they didn't seem easy enough to set up to bother with and will definitely have battery issues (THREE of my old devices I kept around as emergency backups had their batteries swollen). Those cheap portable gaming handhelds that are flooding the market these days probably are the same way.
Maybe there's another cheap monitor solution I'm not thinking of? I'm open to anything, although I'll probably get a refurbished Nexpad if nothing else comes up, since it fits most of the criteria.