Hello I'm currently looking for a good Bible study Bible that has the Bible and prompt questions in it too. Or something along those lines. I don't want a 90, 120 or year long one I'd prefer one that has questions after each book in the Bible. I need to get back to word bad. Praise God and thank you for your help and suggestions!

Ok, love is not the right word, I just wanted to stick with the spirit of the Sellers inspired title. Here's the timeline, sordid details following:
5/8-5/24/23 - Job offered, finger printed, E-qip done, soft credit pull, no interim 7/?/23 - Interview scheduled with investigator, this was probably mid month, my in-laws were in town 8/14/23 - follow up interview w/ the same investigator, by video 10/20/23 - received LOI for things previously discussed with investigator - immediately retained safetyblitz44 4/24/2024 - finally turned in all documentation required by LOI
I waited 3 weeks to contact the FSO from the hiring company. I received a call back from the program manager pretty fast - they profusely apologized that I should have been notified 11 months ago that they were on a hiring freeze and could no longer offer me the position.
I let them know that this was OK and understandable - BUT, that I had still been in contact with DCSA, had an interview, LOI, etc. and that regardless my case should reflect that. They asked me to send my resume and told me they'd call back.
Not even 2 hours later, they call and let me know that YES I have been adjudicated favorably BUT that's when the company dropped my case. I will remain in this status for about 6 months total, during which time I need to find a job to activate me. This is not the end of the world, the PM referred me to a sub and I'm interviewing next week and I am reaching out to my network - someone is going to pick up a software engineer ready to be cleared, that's probably a non issue. I'm very lucky to find myself in this position at all.
Long version...
I was unemployed from late 2021 to early 2023 when I finally bit the bullet and went back to cleared work. I'm a software engineer and I've been cleared before, I didn't think it would be a huge deal, but I was wrong.
I have filled out the SF-86 a lot, I'm in my 40s and it started in the army in 1999. I have had cleared roles without much issue but I never really had red flags either.
This time I had some IRS issues and I checked "yes" to the having used drugs box. It was weed and I had stopped during the pandemic - it was a social thing and the pandemic sucked all of those aspects right out of it. Sharing seemed to make sense til then and I was never one to sit around getting high alone so it naturally tapered off more than a conscious effort to quit. But, I have no intention of doing it again, so giddyup.
When I met with the investigator for an interview it became clear why I hadn't gotten an interim this time but not why it never came up before. They asked me about "an arrest in March 1997" and all I could say was "HOLY SHIT, THAT'S ON THERE?!"
Now, having re-read the SF-86 a ton, I still can't quite figure out where I would have listed this other than at the end because all of the arrest questions from rev 2016 are "past 7 years" but, some way, somehow I will list this in the future because this was 26 years prior when i was 15.
When I was 15 I was at a bus stop by the school in my city when a friend drove by and stopped - a bunch of us got in. I was sitting shotgun and saw the vehicle we had just entered had no ignition and realized it was stolen and we were all going to get arrested, which we did. No charges, none of us stole a car, including the driver - she was riding in a second hand hot car - we were just in the thing. It was teenage stupidity all the way down. I never thought of it again other than as a hilarious anecdote because we were arrested and released to our parents and that was the end of it til that interview! LOL!
The investigator told me in no uncertain terms that this was why i needed an interview. They said they would have never had to do it otherwise. But, I'm still not sure where I would have listed it or what would have made me think of it. They showed me the FBI report that just said it was an arrest assumed felony. There's an EVER question about being charged with a felony but I was not charged. That was no issue after I explained it and I assume the FBI finally followed up with the rest of their report.
Otherwise we just talked about the stint with MJ use, long over, my IRS issues, and I brought up a bench warrant that I had in another state but explained there was really nowhere on the form to list it and that it was for an unpaid ticket from the year 2000 (misdemeanor) with no statute of limitations. I had only found out about it right before the pandemic, it became a low priority real fast. Same with the IRS stuff. I had stopped filing for a bunch of years just because I couldn't afford the 1099 I had been on one year. When you don't file once it's easy to keep not filing! But, in 2021, before the layoffs, I had hired an accountant to help me get it all straightened out. I just needed to file the missed year but I wasn't sure if that was the right move or not. I owed but I was broke and dealing with layoffs plus the IRS hadn't said anything - it's only human to hope they never do! LOL. I never did find any real sources to corroborate a time limit on failing to file, though, so I didn't really want to push that envelope.
When I got the LOI it was only for the 2 tax years I hadn't filed and the bench warrant. Just the words "bench warrant" told me I should get a lawyer and I did. Getting those tax returns processed and getting the warrant lifted took 7 months. Each time a deadline came up from DCSA I submitted everything I had - screenshots, correspondence w/ the attorney working on my bench warrant and the state the case was in - and each time they extended me further.
I ended up needing 2 lawyers - I initially hired the user mentioned above and they found someone who was bar'd in the state I needed. The bench warrant was for an unpaid parking ticket (that I could swear on a stack of bibles was paid at the time, but I can't prove that, so). It took several months to get proof. Same with the IRS stuff. I sent a large payment on the 2nd of January and it took til April to fully reflect on my account. It was excruciating. If you owe taxes and it's a one off, do yourself a favor and call the people who can waive the penalties. I was able to make reasonable payment arrangements online and THEN get 1/3 of my bill cut.
Mainly the lawyer made sure my "final" packet - the one I turned in for the first due date with all of my statements - was clear and correct and would reflect the steps I was taking. Wording on the LOI response is crucial to success along with proof - they will help make sure you are addressing the issues as requested by the LOI without overthinking it. I'm not a terrible writer but that isn't exactly the point. Once I hit that juncture I really wanted to be as sure as I could be that I was doing the right things. They can also help you put your case in perspective - they have experience with weirder or worse than yours. Plus, if you found them on reddit you can respond to them in gifs and memes and know they'll get it. All told for 7 months of counsel, an entire additional lawyer, and including all fees from that process, this cost $2500 and my retainer remainder was refunded as soon as we closed. No hearings or court time necessary, everything was remote and asynchronous.
One of the best parts of this outcome is how great it feels to know I'm truly "squeaky clean" again. It doesn't take too long, depending, I guess. If you look at my account you'll see one of the last weed plants I grew in 2015. Cultivation is one of those "in the past 7 years" questions and I was in year 8 which I may always get a silly kick out of. I did let the investigator know as it was relevant to some other info - but, I'm a horticulturalist at heart, which is also fully reflected in my hobbies. I have no desire or need to grow weed again but it's a thing I have done and have experience with which is nothing to be ashamed of.
Be honest - with yourself AND investigators. Don't be too squeaky of a wheel when it's taking a long time - sometimes that's a really happy accident. Get another job while you wait or keep your current one. File those late taxes now, not later. Old warrants for misdemeanors are cheaper than you think. Sometimes stuff really does come up that you had no reason to list but it isn't necessarily the end of the world.
Oh, and I've been naked on the internet and no one cared.

BLUF: Autistic people, currently, especially those who present as having “woman autism” are being used as props. This is good for no one.
People with autism seem almost to be, in Langston Hughes’ phrase “in vogue” (and as he noted, their wages – and acceptance – aren’t growing any). One example is that for those with “woman autism”, there has been an adoption by other women as something like magic pixie dream girls (that is, they’re used, if only rhetorically, for others’ aggrandizement). This is exemplified by the meme “girls with autism vs. boys with autism” [an example], which is patently mocking toward the latter (though by the comments on such productions, “the latter” can’t quickly pinpoint the mockery, which increases the “hilarity”. And if you believe in upping autistic solidarity, downing bullying, you’ll downvote such memes thoroughly. That few people do that, is indicative of the commonest human attitude toward autistic people).
But this is only one instance: in fact, events such as “autism awareness month” are instituted by non-autistic people and have, on this writer’s assessment, nihl positive impact for actually autistic people. (Have personally observed people use the word “autistic” as a derogatory, later proudly construct “AAM” banners). So what (aside from “Autism Speaks” Naked Lust For Profit) are autistic people used for?
Implicit in the idea of the “Manic Pixie Aspergirl”, specifically, seems to be the notion that women lack social grace and emotional intelligence, if, and only if, they’re “diseased”. Ergo, “healthy” women must have loads of “EQ”, which authorizes women’s gaining preeminent political power, which aim is implicit in most social justice discourse (e.g., Justice Ginsberg’s implicit claim that nine women justices would somehow be better able to rule on prostates, than nine men would be able to rule on ovaries.) Efforts for social justice are not “wrong”; they do currently incline toward power struggles that tend to injustice, as we’ll show.
Victims deserve an end to their victimization. Yet, to achieve power in pursuit of this aim, implies surmounting (or establishing) a power hierarchy – but hierarchy implies the caste systems of power which enable and indeed, require, victimization, e.g., of the out-group or underclass of the hierarchy (so that Ms. Wilkerson’s analysis is incomplete: hierarchy is a general condition of humans’ acting in concert [discounting the “free association” notion of anarchism, as seldom-observed, though anarchism as a field is a lamentably neglected]. Ergo, victimization of someone is intrinsically associated with a “society”).
If autistic people are only an abstract group in need of “awareness”, and at that, used for the benefit of others (or for non-autistics to flatter themselves with their unmerited attention bestowed unto the “sick”), then better to eschew society and its incessant victimizing hierarchies altogether.
Indeed, the general characteristic of autism is a difficulty in operating with non-autistics; we suppose any society, hierarchical or no, if majority non-autistic, tends to exclude them. So long as the non-autistic people exist and are in a majority, operation for autistic people is a basic impossibility.
Anyone who claims to be an “ally” of autistic people therefore must be a hypocrite, or disingenuous; most are parents for whom their autistic children are less a loved-one, than a problem . They’re happy to use autistic people as cudgels against Lena Dunham or Sia, or whomever, in their “who’s ‘in’, who’s ‘out’” one-upmanship social games. They don’t, e.g., accept stimming is just something some people do sometimes. No reason to think they ever will.
Besides, alliance implies reciprocity. Social reciprocity, in which autistic people will not be allowed to participate, and there’s no evidence “allies” have ever or will ever be recompensed in any way for any pains they take, nor are they historically useful for liberation anyway. And hypocrisy is the beginning of willful injustice as contradiction is of logical error.
(For how is it the inventors of heroin and rape should describe anyone else as “disordered”? And these people actually think there’s such a thing as “eye contact”, that that isn’t just staring at someone’s eye-holes, which it is, actually. As if any given facial configuration can’t indicate at least two emotions, as it does, so that they “read body language” as only what their wishful thinking makes it – which is what they actually do, and why harassment happens. In short, if they’re so damn “ordered”, and so superior in communicating: how could war exist? It couldn’t – ergo, they aren’t ordered. And so if truly a “bellum omnium contra omnes”, then how to cooperate to negotiate a social contract? So Thomas Hobbes was wrong).
People don’t actually like one another – which you’ll learn if ever you try to make the world a better place, after you fail because nobody would let you. How could they: nobody without autism notices enough to know anyone or anything else (which is the actual difference: the humans don’t notice jack sh*t. They just assume by wishful thinking: “I want you, so your face means you want me”; “I hate you, so your face is provoking me”. Autistic people notice the details and have to think it all through, and that can take years; lively conversations can’t take years, and people without pleasing conversation are disregarded).
The solution is to follow Charles Bukowsky’s epitaph-advice. And don’t ever try to have sex with anybody, and don’t want to. Everyone follows that advice: no more harassment. Who could ask for anything more? Besides, if it were so damn good why aren’t they always doing it? But they aren’t. So it isn’t. And it isn’t.
Whereas “Tohru Honda”-esque compassion that might make life bearable is nowhere observed, nor practiced.
Nor anyway is life “meaningful”: Psalm 30, verse ten/Psalms), flatly states the author did not believe in a “heaven” in spite of their supposed proximity to miracles. Hence the other Abrahamic faiths falter as genetic errors, descended from Judaism, considering the appeal of them all was an ultimate heavenly reward for the ills of life. Other faiths are inadequate, example, Buddhism’s compassion is in opposition to its non-attachment.
From all we now know and seemingly could know, life is as rolling a four on a pair of dice. It just happened. It doesn’t matter. (Obvious after attending at another’s deathbed, and being in a car that “died”. Only recently are both possible, and only recently is the former rare, so few know. In each case, they make odd noises, and then they just – stop. No “soul”, unless cars have souls. Soul a misconception).
It’s important only if there were someone to say: “If I roll a four, we all get laid.” In the beginning there was no such storyteller. Stories – lies – are the only thing that present an appearance of good in life. This is a “tragedy” only for humans telling a tragedy-tale. For the universe, it’s just something that happened. And later will unhappen. And never mattered, as accidents just happen, don’t “mean”.
It's difficult to avoid telling stories to yourself, but it’s the only way to acceptance which is all that you’ll ever have, since you can accept losing everything, too. The most beautiful lie is still only a lie, and it’ll leave you when you need it, because it was never there.
Probably better to leave.

Recently I was mindblown when I saw a Linux Desktop mainline environment called XFCE running on this handy little device. I know the device can be connected via HDMI to a small monitor of my liking. But I have a question (or questions).
Does the XFCE Linux Desktop running on the RG35XX H grant the ability to do ...

1. Word processing/Powerpoint (handle some sort of opensource free lightweight office suite ?)
2. Reading PDF files
3. Checking and Managing Email
4. Using a Web browser to watch YOUTUBE videos at a low res like at 480p with OK performance
5. Using a Web browser to log in to and use Reddit and do general web browsing like Wikipedia/Reading
6. Getting ok performance from Web browser while a MAX of 5 tabs open(youtube and reddit among the tabs)
7. Watching offline mp4 videos and listen to mp3 files from an SD card
8. Connecting a Webcam peripheral and conduct a Google Meets video chat call
9. Using an online AI like ChatGPT or some sort sort of similar AI bot through the browser OR a desktop app to generate TEXT and TEXT REPLIES
10. And finally ... playing classic PAC MAN within the desktop (native or emulator through the linux desktop UI)

*These aren't the heaviest computing tasks one can do. But this is all I do and this is all I NEED to do.
I'm asking in such detail because RG35XX H has ONLY 1GB of memory, so I'm sort of doubting it's ability and capabilities. So I want honest opinions of you RG35XX H boys (and girls) who have used the XFCE Linux Desktop on this device. So can these 10 tasks be run individually (NOT SIMULTANEOUSLY) without exploding (JK, I mean without causing massive lagging of) the device ? Also I'm not a big multi tasker , but if AT LEAST 2 of these 10 tasks can be done in the XFCE Linux Desktop environment simultaneously (at one given time) WITHOUT causing massive performance issues ... then I would really consider this handy little device as an extremely rudimentary and ultra portable throwaway desktop replacement for me. Do you think that this device in its XFCE desktop environment would be able to handle 2 of these listed 10 tasks simultaneously (at one given time) ?

I think I've been burned out for years. I made some major life changes that I thought would help with burnout, and it helped some, but I've fallen back into old patterns of trying to do too much and then feeling lots of shame and frustration when I can't do more. This week, my therapist shared that she thinks I have ADHD burnout. She thinks I need time to rest and heal before my brain and body will be able to function better like it used to. She also talked about how, for people with ADHD, "rest" might look different, like we still need some easy things to do that can keep us occupied, but without trying to do productive things on our to-do lists. This resonated, as I can't just sit and watch TV to relax, I've gotta be knitting or on my phone or writing cards to my family or paying bills etc while I'm watching TV. I like reading, but after a while, I start to get bored and skip ahead to future chapters to see what's going to happen. I've been enjoying more graphic novels lately, and maybe the visual component helps sustain my attention better than words on a page, but they're so short, and I get decision fatigue about what to read next.
I'm going to be thinking more about what rest and burnout recovery looks like for me and how to implement that practically. Taking 12 weeks off of work isn't practical, but maybe actually taking my weekends to rest and do fun things instead of work/chores? I'm self-employed, so there's literally always some work to do, and I'll often spend several hours on the weekend working, trying to catch up on things. But she thinks I need to rest and heal before trying to catch up vs. "I need to catch up, and then I'll relax" (which, as we know, never happens; we never actually get through that to-do list!)

I'm curious about others' experiences with ADHD burnout, and have any of you been able to recover from it? What did burnout recovery look like for you? What helped? 🤷‍♀️

Also, as a woman with ADHD, what kinds of activities feel restful to you? What do you do exactly when you're at home and want to do something that's fun and relaxing?

Vukasin of Klepci was a Serbian Orthodox Christian from Herzegovina who was martyred by fascists during World War II for refusing to acknowledge the Ustashi leader.
Little is known about the life of Vukasin Mandrapa before his martyrdom, except that he was a farmer and merchant. What is known about him is from the events resulting in his martyrdom. He was born in the village of Klepci, in Herzegovina, towards the end of the nineteenth century. He and his family lived in Sarajevo and then returned to Klepci. At the beginning of World War II, in 1942, members of the Croatian fascist Ustasas arrested him and transported him, together with other Serbs of that region, into the notorious concentration camp of Jasenovac (the number of victims at this camp have been estimated to be 700,000), for both their Serbian ethnicity and for refusing to convert from Serbian Orthodox Christianity to Roman Catholicism. At least two nephews of his are said to have died in Jasenovac before he did.
After horrible days full of hard labor, in January of 1943 Vukasin was brought before an Ustashi soldier, Josep "Zile" Friganovic, who threatened to execute him due to his stoic behavior during the forced labor days and a contest of four soldiers one night as to who could slaughter the most prisoners, but who said he would spare his life if Vukasin cried loudly: "Long live Ante Pavelic!" Ante Pavelic was the leader of the Ustashi. Vukasin, who saw a knife in the hands of the soldier, replied calmly: "My child, you do what you must,"* and refused to obey the soldier`s request. The Ustashi soldier brandished his knife and cut off Vukasin's ear. The soldier then repeated his request. Vukasin repeated his answer. The soldier then cut off Vukasin's other ear, followed by his nose, and then scarred Vukasin's face. Next his tongue was cut. After repeating the request to Vukasin to utter the vicious words and hail the leader of the Ustashi (Ante Pavelic), Vukasin once again calmly replied: "My child, you do what you must." After gouging out his heart and slitting his throat, Friganovic is said to have been unable to kill more people that night, fallen into alcoholism, and years later he confessed this to a doctor named Nedelko Nedo Zets, who wrote it down. This testimony would be used later to make Vukasin Mandrapa a saint.
At the regular session of the Holy Assembly of Bishops of the Serbian Orthodox Church in 1998, Vukasin, from the village of Klepci, was entered into the List of Saints of the Serbian Orthodox Church as a courageous martyr. His feast day is May 16.
Source

Vukasin of Klepci was a Serbian Orthodox Christian from Herzegovina who was martyred by fascists during World War II for refusing to acknowledge the Ustashi leader.
Little is known about the life of Vukasin Mandrapa before his martyrdom, except that he was a farmer and merchant. What is known about him is from the events resulting in his martyrdom. He was born in the village of Klepci, in Herzegovina, towards the end of the nineteenth century. He and his family lived in Sarajevo and then returned to Klepci. At the beginning of World War II, in 1942, members of the Croatian fascist Ustasas arrested him and transported him, together with other Serbs of that region, into the notorious concentration camp of Jasenovac (the number of victims at this camp have been estimated to be 700,000), for both their Serbian ethnicity and for refusing to convert from Serbian Orthodox Christianity to Roman Catholicism. At least two nephews of his are said to have died in Jasenovac before he did.
After horrible days full of hard labor, in January of 1943 Vukasin was brought before an Ustashi soldier, Josep "Zile" Friganovic, who threatened to execute him due to his stoic behavior during the forced labor days and a contest of four soldiers one night as to who could slaughter the most prisoners, but who said he would spare his life if Vukasin cried loudly: "Long live Ante Pavelic!" Ante Pavelic was the leader of the Ustashi. Vukasin, who saw a knife in the hands of the soldier, replied calmly: "My child, you do what you must,"* and refused to obey the soldier`s request. The Ustashi soldier brandished his knife and cut off Vukasin's ear. The soldier then repeated his request. Vukasin repeated his answer. The soldier then cut off Vukasin's other ear, followed by his nose, and then scarred Vukasin's face. Next his tongue was cut. After repeating the request to Vukasin to utter the vicious words and hail the leader of the Ustashi (Ante Pavelic), Vukasin once again calmly replied: "My child, you do what you must." After gouging out his heart and slitting his throat, Friganovic is said to have been unable to kill more people that night, fallen into alcoholism, and years later he confessed this to a doctor named Nedelko Nedo Zets, who wrote it down. This testimony would be used later to make Vukasin Mandrapa a saint.
At the regular session of the Holy Assembly of Bishops of the Serbian Orthodox Church in 1998, Vukasin, from the village of Klepci, was entered into the List of Saints of the Serbian Orthodox Church as a courageous martyr. His feast day is May 16.
Source

I have asked him time and time again to not talk about his family in front of me. He continues to try and vent or just talk about his problematic family members in passing. I don’t give a fuck if your malignant narcissist demon mother went to lunch with your enabler bitch sister!!!
I went NC with both of them for very good reasons. Verbal abuse, physical harm attempts, just plain evilness and insanity. I have a running list a mile long of the shit his mother has pulled. It’s like he gets amnesia and then will occasionally get pissed off at all of them and it seems like we’re on the same team for a few weeks until we’re not again. I don’t understand the back and forth. Sometimes the fog is completely gone and sometimes it’s like he’s a puppet spewing the words of his mother out of his own mouth. His sister enables the absolute shit out of her and is the golden child and her biggest fan. It’s sickening.
I had to report his mother for taking advantage of his father who has memory problems. She is getting rid of his things like he’s already dead because he’s having health issues that she is making much worse by convincing him to ignore it. She keeps trying to give his stuff away to SO saying “dad can’t do that anymore anyway”. I told him to ask him if he wanted to get rid of it and he said no and was upset and had NO idea she was trying to get rid of his things. She blamed it on his memory issues. This ALONE should be enough for him to go NC but he fucking refuses and it’s making me angrier every day. If this were my mother I’d rescue my dad and never talk to her again. He just ignores EVERYTHING she does.
The last time we got in a fight when I said I didn’t want to hear about them he screamed “fine I’ll just pretend like they’re dead then!” Like yeah that’s kind of the point please do that. I’m so fucking fed up with his shit and insistence in burying his head in the fucking sand. I really wonder what would make him go NC? What would she have to do? When is enough enough??? He’s in therapy and even his therapist and mine have said there’s something seriously wrong with her. Before Mother’s Day he was on my side and I don’t know what happened.

Like the title mentions. I don't know what I'm doing. And my strength. My human strength that is. Is fading away. I might take this as a vent.
I'm a believer. I'm young and have little knowledge. I've tried to do what is good. At least to my standards. I'm weak in belief. I've gone weary of doing good. There are moments I get faith and I get motivation, but then the next day or some time later I'm down again. I feel guilty to do things. Sometimes I agree on the guiltiness. And sometimes I don't. It hasn't happened a lot recently though.
Another thing. Recently. I fell sick. My head began to hurt so bad. Leaving me unable to concentrate. So I didn't pray or read as much. I felt weak so I didn't do much. I turned into watching my phone and that's what I feel caused all this falling over.
I don't know we're I'm getting to this. I came here to find a bit of motivation. To seek if anyone has words that can lift my spirit up. Or site me verses in the Bible. I want to continue this good walk. I know it's hard. And when faced with tribulation like this, I don't want to get unmotivated.
Being real. I feel a bit better now. After letting all this come out.

Just passed the Security+ with a 780!
I used Professor Messer videos + practice tests and Jason Dion videos + practice tests. Like many others say I found Messer's practice tests to be most like the test, however Dion's long winded questions prepared me for picking out the key words in a question. My scores on all 10 total practice tests (7 Dion and 3 Messer) ranged from 75%-87%. If you're going to use Messer or Dion's videos definitely play them at 1.25x or 1.5x speed because they talk very slow.
I highly recommend Messer's course notes, they clearly list out all exam objectives in a table of contents that help quickly reference specific topics. In total I studied on and off for a year constantly losing focus and not studying for weeks/months, but within the last 2-3 weeks I really locked in studying on average 4 hours a day.
It feels good to know that all the hours have paid off.

This will be a custom Candela Obscura campaign. We have three players, I would like 4 before we begin and optimally 5. The campaign will be centered on a new Circle (Party) investigating the last case of a previous circle that did not survive the mission. Sign ups and payment will be handled through startplaying.games, voice will be handled over discord, with video optional. The price per session is $22.50, with the second session being free. More info about the game as well as my GMing profile can be found here-
Listing- https://startplaying.games/adventure/clw6hr41z001pbbname5nunuy
Profile- https://startplaying.games/gm/purepolarpanzer
The game doesn't start till the 27th of May. No purchase of books are necessary, but I encourage players to download the free quick start guide from Darrington Press' website located here- https://shop.critrole.com/products/candela-obscura-quickstart-guide?gad_source=1&gclid=Cj0KCQjw3ZayBhDRARIsAPWzx8pYFqRMm4wae5L4LvN5Bxh4WUC_FopGq5N_0maNOpkISvz5szRJX-IaAk3uEALw_wcB I also encourage players to support the creators by buying the book or PDF when/if they have the expendable income.
From the listing- You awake in the dead of night from a troubled sleep marked with dreams, omens, and nightmares with the distinct knowledge that it is coming for you. Gathering your protective charms and investigation gear before even your clothes, you head out into the dank night, heading for the Chapter House. Warmth. Comfort. Safety in numbers.
You don't even make it a third of the way there. Turning down a dark alley, a shadow of menacing intent lunges at you from the cover of some garbage. Stumbling back, you do what you're trained to do. Raising your handgun and a banishment charm, you begin to shout the ancient words to ward against such evil.
It is nowhere near enough.
The next day, the rank and file police are washing the blood into the gutter with a bucket of milky, soapy water. The inspector looks over the remains, grimacing, before lifting an amulet from the body. A small brass candle ringed in a circle. He checks to make sure no one is looking, then removes a similar trinket from beneath his coat. They matched identically. "Sorry, Simon. You will be avenged." The inspector whispered, before stuffing both charms deep into a pocket.
Welcome, from new players to experienced hands, to the world of Candela Obscura by Darrington Press, of Critical Role fame! You will play a recent recruit into the Candela Obscura, Newfaire's secret protectors from the dangers of corruptive magical energies and creatures run rampant. Other Chapters are losing members at an alarming rate, and it will be up to you to investigate. Your tight-knit unit of muscle, scholars, criminals, and mystics will solve mysteries, fight monsters from beyond the Flare, and try to give aid and comfort to those who are harmed by the forces of Magic.

Me and my girlfriend moved in to a new apartment together at the 1. March. As usual, I needed my Debt Collection Information (Betreibungsauskunft). I bought this on the website of die Post. Here I ordered the online DCI (Debt Collection Information) for CHF 22.90. It mentions that you will order this from their partner. The name of that company is Tilbago AG. So I ordered and as promised, I received my DCI in 1 day. Everything good, so I thought.
4 days ago I suddenly received an email from an Debt Collection Company (EOS Schweiz AG), that I haven't payed a bill dating from 31.01.2024. This was from a company called CRIF AG. Since I did not order anything from that company, I gave them a call. They told me that I have ordered a Credit Certificate (Bonitätszertifikat) through them with a third party website credittrust.ch, which is not true. So I asked them, who gave them that order to do so, because clearly that wasn't me. The woman on the phone said the order came from a company called Emonitor, another company I have never heard of. I could tell, that the woman on the phone didn't believe, that I wasn't the one who ordered the Credit Certificate, because the only way to order the certificate is with your ID details (probably a copy). She told me if I scroll down on the website of Emonitor, I can see that they have a partnership with credittrust.ch, which leads to CRIF AG. I noticed that this women won't be any further help to me, since she doesn't believe me + the fact that the company sold the bill to the Debt Collection Company (EOS Schweiz AG) and I have to deal with them. (yes, I know I'm not obliged to pay there bullshit fees, so I do not really care about them).
So, I'm still looking at the Emonitor website and click on the 'all partners & interface', and who do I see: Tilbago AG, the third party company of die Post, I ordered my DCI with. So I just went through the whole ordering proces again here. Since it has been a few months, I forgot what information I had to put it. On the third step, you have to upload the front- and backside of your ID. Can I conclude, that these people ordered something, without my knowledge and without my approval, a certificate which I have to pay? I looked at the General Terms and Conditions. I couldn't find anything them stating they gain the authority to do such a thing, by me signing the contract.
I payed for there services of Tilbago AG by TWINT. Now, the thing is: I tried to call them, but nobody is answering the phone (of course). I looked at their google review rating, and I don't have the feeling they will ever reply by phone, nor will they be very helpful by e-mail. The company is based in Luzern. I am able to visit them in person and ask them what happened in this situation, but I'm not sure if a) they let me in, or b) this will bring me in trouble.
So my question is, what can I do, other than hire a lawyer, which doesn't make sense for the original amount of CHF 27.90 I need to pay? It's about the principle. I didn't order, I shouldn't have to pay for it.
_________________________ Since I couldn't copy a link:

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This will be a custom Candela Obscura campaign. We have three players, I would like 4 before we begin and optimally 5. The campaign will be centered on a new Circle (Party) investigating the last case of a previous circle that did not survive the mission. Sign ups and payment will be handled through startplaying.games, voice will be handled over discord, with video optional. The price per session is $22.50, with the second session being free. More info about the game as well as my GMing profile can be found here-
Listing- https://startplaying.games/adventure/clw6hr41z001pbbname5nunuy
Profile- https://startplaying.games/gm/purepolarpanzer
The game doesn't start till the 27th of May. No purchase of books are necessary, but I encourage players to download the free quick start guide from Darrington Press' website located here- https://shop.critrole.com/products/candela-obscura-quickstart-guide?gad_source=1&gclid=Cj0KCQjw3ZayBhDRARIsAPWzx8pYFqRMm4wae5L4LvN5Bxh4WUC_FopGq5N_0maNOpkISvz5szRJX-IaAk3uEALw_wcB I also encourage players to support the creators by buying the book or PDF when/if they have the expendable income.
From the listing- You awake in the dead of night from a troubled sleep marked with dreams, omens, and nightmares with the distinct knowledge that it is coming for you. Gathering your protective charms and investigation gear before even your clothes, you head out into the dank night, heading for the Chapter House. Warmth. Comfort. Safety in numbers.
You don't even make it a third of the way there. Turning down a dark alley, a shadow of menacing intent lunges at you from the cover of some garbage. Stumbling back, you do what you're trained to do. Raising your handgun and a banishment charm, you begin to shout the ancient words to ward against such evil.
It is nowhere near enough.
The next day, the rank and file police are washing the blood into the gutter with a bucket of milky, soapy water. The inspector looks over the remains, grimacing, before lifting an amulet from the body. A small brass candle ringed in a circle. He checks to make sure no one is looking, then removes a similar trinket from beneath his coat. They matched identically. "Sorry, Simon. You will be avenged." The inspector whispered, before stuffing both charms deep into a pocket.
Welcome, from new players to experienced hands, to the world of Candela Obscura by Darrington Press, of Critical Role fame! You will play a recent recruit into the Candela Obscura, Newfaire's secret protectors from the dangers of corruptive magical energies and creatures run rampant. Other Chapters are losing members at an alarming rate, and it will be up to you to investigate. Your tight-knit unit of muscle, scholars, criminals, and mystics will solve mysteries, fight monsters from beyond the Flare, and try to give aid and comfort to those who are harmed by the forces of Magic.

I am having abit of conflict at work with someone who should be my peer. We have different ways of working and communicating. She loves being overly friendly and over explaining everything.
I am still nice in the workplace I think but have been told I come across rude, dismissive, arrogant etc.
This issue with this girl has been going on for ages and she keeps complaining about me. My manager has said i need to get on with her or it will affect my performance review despite my work being bar far the best (her words) and wanting me to upskill this other person.
It has got to the point where she has asked me to make a list of things I need to do every day which includes: - focusing on my body language - getting involved in friendly conversations before asking people for things - saying pls and hellos - making people feel like that points are valid - making a point to be engaged with others Etc
She literally said to me, “I’m sorry because I’m basically asking you to mask” and if I can sort my communication out I will excell in the workplace but if not it’s going to hold me back.
This feels so upsetting to me. I just sent her the list and I feel so shit. It’s like I’m being treated as a child but I’m nearly 30. Not really sure what to do but it’s not easy to just change yourself like this. I’m not a bad person or unkind or anything. I’m quite upset that I’ve been asked to do this and it feels really inappropriate. Any advice here?

Hi, So basically I'm looking to do a conditional formatting so highlights the cell when it contains unknown text/words.
So in A will be my list of approved words. B will be let says answers.
So B2 will be approved as doesn't contain anything outside of the approved list, but B3 I want to highlight because it found text outside of the list, but this will be to prompt the user to recheck what they wrote.
Is this possible? I was going to do a massive Permutations sheet so has every category possible but that's my back up.
​

List	Answers
Cat	Cat Dog
Dog	Dog, Parrot
Hamster

​

I’m aware that this is unconventional. Believe me, I’ve tried conventional – it didn’t end well for anyone. I require a certain open mindedness that I’m hoping I might find here, but more importantly, I need my future husband to know the rules. Meet-cutes are well and good on the screen, but they don’t guarantee a partner’s ability to follow basic instructions. That was my mistake the first time.
So, begging your pardon for my bluntness, I’m going to be clear about my requirements. Please read carefully – if you can’t meet them, there’s no point in going any further.

• Must want children. At least one child, anyway. I’m open to the idea of more, but one is an absolute must.
• Must be in it for the long haul. Until our child turns eighteen, to be precise. I understand that level of commitment is a daunting prospect, particularly when we have not yet met. After our child is born, you are welcome to ignore me, if you please, or take your pleasure elsewhere – though I will warn you that it might be difficult to come by. But you will live under my roof until our child is an adult.
• Homebody preferred. It will make the next two decades easier on you.
• Must have impeccable manners. I will provide a manual outlining the required etiquette, but you must at least have a grasp of basic courtesy to begin with. If you let your tongue run away with you, or don’t bother to wish your neighbours a good morning when you pass them in the street, stop reading – this is not the opportunity for you. Seriously.

This is the part where I should talk about myself, but let’s face it, this is hardly a romantic proposal. I require commitment up-front and there’s no guarantee that, once we do meet, we’ll really even like each other. If we do? Fantastic! It’ll help the years fly by. If we don’t, you’ll still have the main prize – years of rent-free, expenses-free living at The Old Oak Hotel.
A sanctuary has stood in this spot in one form or another since before the ley lines. During its tenure, it has been flooded, put to the flame, and pounded into dust. Time and again, it has been reimagined and rebuilt. Most of the current building dates back to Victoria’s reign, though the oldest parts were constructed in the 13^th century. At the very bottom of the garden, cut into the surrounding hills, there is a cave bearing handprints of red ochre.
There has always been an Edwards at the hotel, though of course we haven’t always gone by that name. You would think a family so tied to one place would do a better job of keeping records, but no one is certain of our origins. Perhaps it was a cosmic bargain, or perhaps mere luck – whether good or bad, I have never been able to decide. Either way, our presence is required. Throughout our spotty past, there’s a story here and there of an Edwards deserting their post, and it always coincides with a particularly brutal period of history.
I inherited the position five years ago. At midnight on my eighteenth birthday, my parents took their already-packed suitcases and left. I don’t blame them for their abandonment; I intend to one day do the same thing to my – or, hopefully, our – child.
They send me postcards and photos from time-to-time, always smiling on sunny beaches. Money isn’t a concern for them. That’s part of whatever mysterious deal our ancestors made – when a caretaker leaves in good-standing, they will never want for anything again. They could travel the world for the rest of their lives, always sleeping in the softest sheets and dining in the finest restaurants, and never find their pockets empty.
Keep this point in mind, for if you can meet my requirements, you will share my good fortune.
And what must we do in return? I can all but hear you scream the question. Why, very little. The presence of an Edwards ensures that the guests can’t stray from the hotel grounds. Most of our guests are live-in residents, though we do get the occasional walk-in. Where they come from, I don’t know, for we are not visible to most people who stumble upon our lonely corner of the world. I’ve come to believe the hotel chooses to reveal itself when its lacking entertainment, or to fill a need.
Jimmy, my first husband, was one such guest.
For the most part, the guests are harmless. They’ll give you a little fright from time-to-time, popping out from a wall or turning your bathwater into blood, but I find it hard to hold it against them. I’ve found twenty-three years here dreary; I can’t imagine how bored I would be after five hundred.
There are a few exceptions you should be aware of:

• Eric. Our resident serial murderer. He claims to have been Jack the Ripper while he still drew breath, but I think he’s just a blowhard. He knows better than to harm an Edwards, but I’m afraid spouses are fair game. Years ago, my grandmother managed to confine him to the fourth floor, so you will be perfectly safe from him as long as you never set foot there. Occasionally, the lift will stop on that floor even though you haven’t pressed the button for it. Do not get out. Even if the lift appears to be on fire or starts filling with murky water. Wait for the doors to close again, then go to another floor. It should only take a few hours.
• The Thing in the Cellar. I don’t know what It is; no one ever has. We only know It eats rats and must be fed once a day. If I’m ever ill or incapacitated, this task will fall to you. Harvest the rats from the traps in the garden, then stand at the cellar door and throw them down the stairs. Do not walk down the stairs and do not forget to feed It. You don’t want to be the first person to see Its’ face.
• Mrs Jones. Old fashioned and a stickler for manners, she’s the reason I’m advertising for a husband rather than a boyfriend. She won’t abide a couple living in sin under the same roof as her. Really, though, she’s a sweet old thing. Full of stories about the war and always ready to help if I get stuck on a recipe. I don’t blame her for what happened with Jimmy at all. I’d warned him enough times.

Guests aside, there are other rules you will need to follow to ensure a safe, satisfactory stay at The Old Oak Hotel. They are listed in a book that has been re-penned many times over the centuries. If you choose to accept this opportunity, I will insist that you read it until you can recite the pages word-for-word.
However, there are some rules so critical for your survival that I feel compelled to list them here:

• With the exception of the fourth floor, you are welcome to roam the hotel and its grounds as you please. But you must never set foot outside of our land – not until our child is old enough to fulfil their duties. If I were to do so, it would unleash pandemonium – plague, peril, perhaps another world war. I’m afraid you would be less crucial to the fate of the world, but it would certainly be a personal disaster.
• Never look in the mirrors in room 33.
• I’ve touched this point already, but it bears repeating: never be rude to Mrs Jones.

Failure to observe that last rule is what got Jimmy.
She doted on him. I think he reminded her of her long-dead son, for she pampered him as if he were one of her own. Each morning, she had breakfast ready for him before I had so much as opened my eyes, and she developed a habit of trailing along after him, complimenting his skill as he oiled rusted hinges or set a crooked picture straight.
At first, Jimmy basked in the attention. But by the end of his second month, he was growing bored of Mrs Jones, me, and the hotel itself. We pride ourselves on our facilities. If you need more activity than a turn around the garden, we have a lovely indoor pool – it freezes over every now and then, but most of the time it’s perfectly usable. Our library is unmatched. Although the room is cramped, it has every book imaginable; you only need to think of a particular title, and it will appear on one of the shelves. And now that I’ve dragged us kicking and screaming into the 21^st century, we have a wide array of streaming services.
It wasn’t enough for Jimmy. He wanted to go out – eat in a restaurant, watch a film in the cinema, see any faces other than the ones he was surrounded by every day. He began having a drink each evening. One drink turned into several, and after a few weeks, the bar became his permanent residence between dusk and midnight.
He wasn’t the only one getting bored. I had been thrilled when he first arrived; ecstatic when he agreed to stay. How marvellous to feel real flesh beneath my fingers after five years of only the dead for company. What a relief to have some assistance in the many tasks required to keep the hotel running as it should.
The more he drank, the less inclined he was to help – or even spend time in my company. He no longer visited my bed, choosing a room for himself on the opposite end of the floor. When our paths did cross, at best he would ignore me. At worst, he would nitpick or outright rail against me, blaming me for his captivity.
Still, I made an effort to be present whenever he frequented the bar. As lovely as Mrs Jones can be, she does have a tendency to nag. Before and after her death, she was close to teetotal, only consenting to take a single sherry at Christmas, and drinking outside of special occasions is something of a bugbear of hers.
“Think of your health, dear,” she would tell Jimmy brusquely. “You’ll miss it when it’s gone.”
Or, “How about we switch to a nice apple juice now? You’ve had quite enough to drink for one night.”
Most of the time, Jimmy managed to pull himself together enough to flash a charming smile and distract her with a compliment about her latest meal. But after one drink too many, I’d noticed him gritting his teeth and just barely managing to hold his tongue.
It was better if I was present. Playing the doting wife, I insisted on pouring his drinks, watering them down out of his sight. When Mrs Jones’s nagging bordered on relentless, I could always distract her with a game of gin rummy.
On his final day, I was running behind. The ghoul on the second floor – usually the least demanding of our guests – had come down with some dreadful illness, or else decided he wanted to inconvenience me. Either way, I had woken that morning to the foulest stench I had ever experienced. I followed it to his room and found every surface covered in putrid green-blank gunge, its consistency somewhere between mucus and vomit.
All day I scrubbed, taking only brief breaks to step outside before I fainted. By the time the room was restored to a passable state, and I had filled several bin bags to bursting with filthy rags, it was already deep into the night. Mindful of the time, I paused only long enough to wash the streaks of muck from my arms and face before racing to the bar.
I arrived just in time to hear Jimmy’s last words. After he spat them at Mrs Jones, she only stared for a small eternity, her mouth frozen in the motherly smile she wore whenever she scolded him.
Then, like melted wax, her face began to shift.
I shouted at Jimmy to run, but he didn’t need to be told. Before the words left my mouth, he leapt from his barstool and streaked through the door. Mrs Jones followed him seconds later. Her lips were already peeling back to reveal rows upon rows of long, wickedly sharp fangs, while claws sprouted from beneath her lace-edged cuffs.
I sprinted after them, but Jimmy was fuelled by fear and Mrs Jones by whatever force propels the Mrs Joneses of the world. I followed the screeching to the lobby. Breathless, I arrived to see he had arrived within mere feet of the entrance before Mrs Jones grabbed him.
Claws wrapped around his throat, she lifted him into the air. As I watched, her jaw unhinged, the lower part dropping so that it was nearly level with her chest.
That sight drove all the sense out of my head. Forgetting every rule my parents had ever drilled into me, I lunged at her.
She batted me away as though I weighed no more than a fly.
I crashed into the reception desk, the breath bursting from my lungs in a great woosh. I was certain that I would die, for no amount of effort seemed to force air back into my aching chest. At last, as my vision began to dim, I managed to take a small gulp – then another, and another, until I was able to draw myself together enough to regain my feet.
By that time, Mrs Jones had nearly finished her dinner. Jimmy’s chest was splayed open, muscle and shattered ribs protruding every which way from his flesh, and she was devouring the last few bites of his heart.
His head was angled towards me. The light had winked out from his eyes, but they still held his final terror – and an accusation which, I was quite certain, was directed at me. I would like to say I felt only horror, but I couldn’t help my sudden jolt of irritation. How may times had I told him to mind his manners?
Mrs Jones gulped, the sound thick and wet in her gullet, and dropped what remained of Jimmy to the floor.
Then she turned to me.
Here’s another rule for you, one which I hope you never have cause to use: never interfere with a kill.
The Mrs Jones who used to kiss my grazed knees, who argued with my mother for the right to read me bedtime stories, was no longer at the wheel. No amount of pleading or reasoning would move her.
I could only run.
Spinning around, I vaulted over the reception desk and raced for the office behind it. If Jimmy had not been out of his mind with fear and booze, he might have remembered the rules and survived; it was one of several staff-only rooms throughout the hotel warded to keep out unwanted guests.
Just ten steps from desk to door, yet it was the longest journey of my life. My hard-won breath burned my throat; my heart pounded in my ears, deafening me to all other sounds than Mrs Jones’s heavy, pounding footsteps.
Grasping the handle, her hot, copper-tanged breath was on my neck. Fire exploded in my flesh as she raked her claws down my back. A step further away, and I wouldn’t have made it; the pain would have been too great. But I managed to throw myself into the office and slam the door before crumpling to the ground.
Before I passed out, I heard her grunting and shrieking outside, furious that she couldn’t get in.
Three days I spent in the office, emerging only to feed The Thing in the Cellar before scurrying back to my hiding place. Whenever I left, I tried not to look at the mangled heap that used to be Jimmy. There was no avoiding the smell, though.
With no small difficulty, and the help of a first aid kit, I managed to treat and bandage the wounds on my back. They bled sluggishly all throughout the first day, but thankfully didn’t fester.
On the morning of the fourth day, there was a tentative knock on the door followed by the sound of rapidly retreating footsteps. I waited until they had disappeared down the corridor before cracking the door open. On the floor was a freshly baked Victoria sponge and a beautifully written note of apology.
It took every ounce of courage I possessed, but that evening I forced myself to go to the dining room. Mrs Jones was waiting for me, her eyes red-rimmed, a steaming cottage pie on the table. I tried not to flinch as she took my hand, re-iterating the apology she had already delivered in writing.
The next morning, she helped me clean Jimmy up.
We treated each other cautiously for a while, but eventually we got back to playing gin rummy again. When the scars on my back twinge, as they sometimes do, she helps me rub a soothing ointment into them. Even though I’ve told her it’s not necessary, she apologises every time.
So, you’ve heard my story and you have my proposal. If you think you could be the man for me, I invite you to visit. You will need to drink a cup of ram’s blood (a pinch of nutmeg makes it a little more tolerable) and light a black candle before bedtime. When you next wake, you will find yourself at our gates. As travel arrangements go, it’s hardly the Orient Express, but it beats the airfare.
If you have read this without flinching, if you can stomach the journey to get here, if you walk up to our door and find the nerve to open it, I have one more instruction for you.
Just as you enter, look to your right. You will see a deep brown stain on the lobby carpet. I’ve scrubbed and scrubbed but it just won’t come out. Perhaps that’s for the best. It’s a good reminder of what will happen to you should you call Mrs Jones a “nosy old bat”.
And when you run into Jimmy – as you will, for he still likes hanging around the bar in the evening, his silvery wounds glistening as though they had just been inflicted – don’t let him convince you he was some sort of victim.
He knew the rules.

Sorry guys. Long read ahead.
Still in my heart, it’s hard for me not to be sentimental and still pour my heart out and call her the most beautiful person ever. but I know that at the end of the day, we are both just normal people trying to balance our reasons to both leave and stay with each other. For context, I broke up with her right before our 6 month anniversary right after my birthday. The challenges of becoming long distance did not add to the list of underlying problems between us. Honestly, I tried to break up at 5 months, because I knew my birthday was coming up and didn’t want to lead her on or blindside her. But despite my intentions and attempt, she pleaded with me to hold on and stay until she visited me and I gave in and stayed that extra month knowing better.
The relationship ultimately failed because we no longer reached the point of compromise, and it is both our faults the relationship failed. I will try my best not to villainize the person I used to love on the internet, but in short, to me she needed reassurance in a way that placed a strain on my security in us and it strained our relationship. She told me that when we started dating that she did have some anger issues and was still haunted by some problems in her first relationship. Honestly, a lot of things that happened what a lot of people considered red flags and things they wouldn’t let any friend do to them. But I wasn’t perfect either and I never had the heart to tell her what she was doing was hurting me until it was too late, and I enabled and pulled myself apart trying to give her the reassurance she wanted until it was too much and thought I could ofc change her . Eventually, one night I got so hurt after giving my all, and I broke down. She had only ever apologized to me after hurting me so much, and she promised to never treat me like that again. But people are hard to change, and the same issues kept happening and I could feel myself losing hope in both her and us. It was eating me alive, and I knew I had to be the one to walk away, because she told me she could never walk away from someone she loves. It hurt even more knowing that I was main person she depended on the most since moving, but I knew it was an insult to her to become the great person she’s meant to be if I didn’t believe she could find herself and new friends and continued to stay because of that. Despite her attempts to say we should just take a 1 month break, we both have talked that if we ever got to the point where we considered a break, we should just call it. It ended up with me hanging up on her for taking my feelings and desire to break up seriously. The following morning we texted and agreed that our doors are closed for now and Scott Street’d each other.
But despite all the relationship advice and reddit posts that say its NC no matter what and that they aren’t thinking of you, I had always planned to reach back out to her in a month of NC after finishing my classes and figuring my feelings out more first. In my situation, I still feel like it is right to communicate after a bit of time rather than pretend that we never happened. I never expected it to be her because I was the one who broke up. It wasn’t easy. To many of you wondering if the dumper ever thinks of you, I placed away a lot of the stuff she gave me for my birthday, but I still can’t put away the picture frame she made with pictures of us. I put all our pictures in a hidden album but I will still look through them at night. I binged watched countless sad poetry tiktoks. I got sad seeing her contact name that I couldn’t change slowly move down under other names. I listen to all our songs, cried so many times and thought of her almost constantly for the first two weeks especially. I still typed but never send good night messages to her at the usual time we talked at night, and hoped to see she was typing too. I would play the mobile game she introduced to me and I played more hoping to catch her on there. I never saw her. The first week was especially rough. I wanted to share so many achievements and events with her during the month, but I kept strong when in truth I would throw all of my dignity to take her back if she asked within the first two weeks. Even though she was a burning house, she felt like home to me.
I had planned several conditions prior in breaking NC: First, I would ultimately respect her response, whether it is an answer or no answer. She doesn’t owe me anything. Second, I had to first work on myself and only contact her after I finished up the school semester and start finding myself again. Third, I can only contact her when I am relatively secure in my breakup decision and not in a state where I was missing her more than usual. Fourth, I would write out and remind myself why we broke up and avoid getting sentimental and reminiscing to avoid getting my heart swayed like always in both respect of my decision and her sake. I will ask her if there’s anything she would like return to me and just have one last talk between the both of us if there are any unspoken words left to be said. This is especially important because my heart is fickle and I was the one who threw it away, and I respect her too much to expect her to take me back and have respect for myself to not go back on my decision. Lastly, this is where is it especially selfish of me. Even though it was an unconditional gift, I still wanted to pay her back with a birthday present early. Even though I know it is breadcrumbing, I selfishly want to give a gift to her, but I don’t want to do it in August rather than we are months into moving on. I’ll talk to her about it, and see how she feels about it before I decide to rip this band aid off. If she doesn’t want it, I won’t bother.
Here is how it went. I texted her if she comfortable enough to talk first of all. 10 minutes later, she responded about what and I basically explained that I wanted communicate after sometime and see if there’s anything left to be said between us and apologize for the night I hung up on her. She said she was never mad about me hanging up and we agreed to talk the following night. We exchange awkward “how have you been” and I explain that I wanted to talk about our feelings and thoughts in the past month. I was honestly in my heart, I still have a lot of attachment for her and was trying my best to run back into that burning house, but in my head I know that we could only start again as strangers and that 1 month is not enough time for us to both change as people. She said she wants us to meet again by chance but I said I don’t us to wait on each other to grow, and that we both don’t chance to make us work and that if we wanted it to work, we would make it work. She agreed. We caught up on things that happened and left off on. I told her about getting an A+ in my class, and she told me about the dance classes she started going to. It honestly felt like we picked up where we left off but without the certain words like “baby” and the L-word. We talk about the concerts we had planned. She told me that she didn’t have any hate for me at all and doesn’t blame me for hating her. I told her that I could never hate her even though she did hurt me. I apologize that I wasn’t strong enough and apologize for all the pain I did too. We talked about the clothing hauls we just had and we laughed at myself for my latest haircut that I didn’t like and I knew she wouldn’t like either. I told her that I know her enough that she doesn’t want someone who is scared to love her, and she agreed. We caught up about work, and she told me that she is fully remote now, and I laughed and countered that I get 2 hours off early on Friday at my in-person job because it’s Employee Appreciation month. I told her I’ve been reading the book she gave me for my birthday, but it is laughably stereotypically Asian even though it’s a good read. I told her I put away most of her stuff in the closest and she did too. She said I should take down the picture frame she made because she could tell I was still looking at it through Facetime. She told me she found a letter I wrote and she cried reading it and I told her I did the same. I told her I haven’t even touched the crochet kit I bought and she told me she returned hers after failing to make a loop. I told her that I wouldn’t have changed and a thing and she said she wouldn’t either. We ended up getting sentimental and reminiscing. We laughed at the coping we had both done like stalking each other’s Linkedin and Spotify despite unfollowing each other on social media. She uploaded our pictures on Google Drive and deleted our messages but restored them once she realized she could redownload them. She told me she deleted the phone game she showed me because she didn’t have a reason to play it again. I asked her if this is the last time and she said maybe. I told her that I wouldn’t change a thing and she said she wouldn’t either. She just wished we started off as friends longer. We cried, laughed and talked for 4 hours. It was getting late. We both were afraid of falling asleep together on call again. It felt like we were both waiting for the other to say it what was both on our minds and hoping the other felt the same, but it felt like it would be so easy to light it back up, but we both knew better than to rush back in. I told her that I wasn’t feeling strong anymore and to also not take me back if my heart folds. She said she wouldn’t. I told her that we should hang up but I say I honestly don’t know if I can and she said she’ll end the call at 3 on her side. We both say we miss each other and she hangs up.
Do I regret it or like it interrupted my healing? Not really. Last night was bittersweet. She still the same person I loved and that’s the most tragic problem. I told her that we shouldn’t wait for each other, but I lied and do truly do hope we meet again by chance again. I know this feeling might change with time, but for now, I do still care for her and I still wish the best for her and I know she will become a great person. I know I’m still holding on, but I am glad we talked and can continue on being the best person I can be. I do feel like there will always be a part of me that will grieve losing her love and being the person who walked away. I still do worry about her but I know she’ll be ok.

Google didn't help at all. What exactly are you supposed to say to reward the dog after a trick or to make it stop barking too much? There must be certain words to use but weirdly the instruction manual does not list any in its voice commands section. Mine does not react to clapping either, so perhaps the feature is just defective. But in case I'm just doing something wrong...How exactly does the voice activation/command thing work in the Giga Pound?

Hi All,
I've recently come across a very interesting topic NDE. A little background about me and my faith. I wasn't really raised in an immediate religious family meaning my mother and father weren't dedicated to religion. However, my Grandfather was a devout catholic and for whatever reason my Father strayed away from that as he grew. So i would attend church with him at times when I was very young. My mom throughout my life must've known the importance and made several attempts at taking me to church consistently, but she never stuck with it likely because as I grew older my interest wasn't there (sadly). I would pray as a child and my faith was strong enough for that, as I grew into my teens with school and all the bad I saw I started thinking How could a god be real that allows such evil to occur here on earth (this from what I know now was complete ignorance in not knowing his word) at any rate this lead me down a path of not necessarily being a non believer but also not being a strong believer for a very, very long time. I didn't know what I believed in but I believed in a higher power. I lived a life of sin (drinking, partying, drugs, judgmental etc) I always thought well if there is a god he'd understand and forgive (how naive). At any rate this was my life, a life without Christ.
An interesting thing occurred not long ago, I came across a recommended video on youtube about a very intense NDE where the person explained meeting Jesus, a life review all of that. Its interesting because I never watched anything closesly related to this on youtube ever. Now I take it as a sign. I researched it, watched more and it eventually led me into more and more religious related content. The thing for me as a very analytical person was I needed something like this to open me up to the reality that there is indeed a god. A lot of interesting research has gone into some of these experiences. John Burke has done substancial research on the topic and draws the parallels from some of these experiences to scripture. A lot of scientists can't explain how some of these people have been clinically dead for hours yet can recall events, conversations that happened when there was no brain activity etc. A lot of these experiences have so many commonalities so much in fact that I have a hard time believing it can be explained by chemicals released by the brain upon death I.E DMT. The psychelic experience is all over the place and never follows a consistent theme. These near Death experiences are not of that.
I am thankful for finding this as it has brought renewed faith to my life. I've accepted Jesus into my life. I've bought a bible and started reading the word (something I never imagined i'd do). I have a lot of work to do in order to make him even a small percentile happy with me, but I feel good knowing that I'm trying.
What brought you to Christianity? What is the Church's thoughts on NDEs? Do we believe that these are experiences our creator has allowed. I don't believe every single experience, but some of them are to real to discount imo. Also, I plan on attending a local church or churches until I find a place that feels like home. Any other tips navigating youtube or podcasts that you feel are good to follow? There's a lot of stuff out there I've had to learn to navigate around people talking to spirit guides and all this new age stuff which is dangerous bc it sounds all good in well to a new follower until you start realizing the differences and that this is not gods word. Anyway, thanks for a space allowing me to get some thoughts off my mind.