I just find it really hard to relate to Zionism. I’m Chinese American. I technically have an ethnostate, Mainland China, but…I don’t feel at home there as a member of the diaspora. (Even if they didn’t have an evil totalitarian government) It’s a classic “third culture kid” situation - I don’t fully belong anywhere. I consciously choose to live in a diverse area in the coastal United States. That’s where I feel safe and like a full part of the community.
I don’t want to have an argument about who is persecuted more. But it’s a fact that change people have faced plenty of adversity and persecution - head tax, genocides in Southeast Asia,war crimes, hate crimes etc. I live every day as a visible minority, which is not the case for many American Jews. There are many places in the US where I feel unsafe. Despite all this, I choose to live in a multicultural society and find happiness here.
Living in my own ethnostate would not make me happy. If given the option to displace an existing multi generational household so I could live in China or a special country for “Chinese Americans” or “Chinese diaspora” I truly don’t see myself taking that option. Upholding apartheid is not worth it for whatever purported utopia, you know?
I’m sorry if this is offensive, but I really don’t get it. I realize that now that Jews are there, it’s not fair to displace them, either, but even if that weren’t the case Tim and Lovett make it sound like they are morally entitled to the concept of Israel or the concept of a Jewish ethno state.
And I just don’t think that anyone is entitled to an ethnostate and they’re not that great anyway. What am I not getting here?
Sorry about the rant. Appreciate any good faith discussion here.
(Edited grammar)

Spoilers ahead…
Dear Karthik Subbaraj,
Congratulations on yet another interesting movie, and for resisting the impulse to name this one, too, after a food item. Iraivi is an unusual feminist film, in the sense that it’s seen entirely through the prism of sympathetic male characters. Your men aren’t monsters who drink or cheat on their wives or subject them to torture. They do these things, yes, but… differently. Arul (SJ Surya) drinks, but only to drown out his sense of failure – he’s a director and his film is in the cans, being held hostage by a sadistic producer. Michael (Vijay Sethupathi) has sex with Malarvizhi (Pooja Devariya), and he continues to lust after her after his marriage to Ponni (Anjali) – I love that all your women have names that suggest classical heroines, including Arul’s wife Yazhini (Kamalini Mukherjee) – but it’s a marriage he committed to in a hurry and he still hasn’t reconciled himself to it. He’s being a bastard, certainly, but he’s not a one-note villain. And the torture they inflict isn’t the stubbing-a-cigarette-into-the-wife’s-bare-arm variety. It’s more mental than physical.
So we get women who are collateral damage – and I include Arul’s comatose mother (Vadivukkarasi), and the nurse who’s not allowed to do her duty – of men being men. They’re being babies, really. Yazhini tells Arul that he should get on with his life, write another story, make another movie. He says it’s like her trying to have another child while still pregnant with their daughter. (Yes, all these men end up with girl children.) He’s a wallower – but maybe all artists are. You like to do that, don’t you Karthik? Even in a film like this, you deliver a commentary about filmmaking and the artist. Why, even Arul’s father is a sculptor, and though we never see him ill-treating his wife (thank you for sparing us the clichés of raised hands and raised voices), we’re informed that he’s responsible for her state. His son’s following the father’s footsteps. Maybe you’re trying to say that the wives of obsessed artists are doomed to become collateral damage. Your films make us think, Karthik, so thank you for that.
All your stories have at their centre a filmmaker, or at least (in the case of your first film, Pizza) a storyteller. And through them, we seem to hear your voice. “Works of art should not be in places where they are not respected.” “Namma padam pesanum, naama pesa koodadhu.” You compare masala movies to a massage with a happy ending. (I laughed, but please don’t judge me when I say I rather like massages with happy endings – I refer to masala movies, of course.) We even get a line of dialogue about Dolby Atmos. (What will the B/C-centre audience make of this, Karthik? But then you don’t really give a shit, do you? More power to you.) And you like your insider jokes. That crass, egoistic producer who does not care about art – he reminded me of the crass producer from your earlier film, Jigarthanda. You like Rajinikanth too. You referenced Thillu Mullu in Pizza, Thalapathi in Jigarthanda, and now you have Arul singing Malayala karayoram, Michael singing Oorai therinjikitten.
Or is that more of an Ilayaraja homage? You like to keep the audience guessing, right? When the Bobby Simha character in Jigarthanda said he was a Shankar-Ganesh fan, it appeared that you were mocking the endless Ilayaraja nods in Tamil cinema, but here you are, doffing your hat to the maestro. “Raja Raja dhaan.” Arul says this… twice. (By the way, which is that nightclub which plays Maanguyile poonguyile? Do let us know.) And the reuse of Unnai thaane – first in a scene between Michael and Malarvizhi; later in a scene between Michael and Ponni – is the kind of Easter egg we come to your films for. Let me list some others, though I’ll probably need to watch the film a second (or third) time to get them all. The name of the bachelors’ quarters is Ambal Mansion – it goes with your theme and title. I didn’t get the bit about the windmills (something connected to the gust of wind that makes the row of cycles fall over in the first scene?), or why you showcased the book of Shanta Shishunala Sharif’s poems. (I confess. I Googled up that name. I can’t remember the last time a Tamil film made me Google something up. Madras, maybe.) And despite your note at the beginning that Iraivi is inspired by the works of K Balachander (he made female-centric films, but I don’t know if I’d call them feminist films), this is really more of an ode to Mani Ratnam, isn’t it? Specifically, Aayidha Ezhuthu. The three men, one of them – the impulsive one – named Michael. The film starting out as Arul’s story, then becoming Michael’s story, and finally Jagan’s (Bobby Simha) story. The finale with the woman on the train. Plus, the arc of the Madhavan-Meera Jasmine plot was essentially about being easily misled (in the case of the man) and becoming collateral damage (in the case of the woman.) And yes, the rain. All that rain. As though the skies were weeping for these women.
Am I digressing, Karthik? If I am, I’m just following your style, which is the opposite of simple and linear. As a result, I find your films longer than they need to be. (You may feel the same about my reviews.) For instance, I did not care for the scene in the nightclub where a director is felicitated. I realise it was there as a last straw for Yazhini, but it felt redundant. But I suppose they couldn’t be any other way, because you like these shaggy-dog stories that you then embellish with novelistic detail. I love the way you introduce your characters, the time you take with them. Our films lay out characters and their relationship to each other the minute we set eyes on them, but you make us wait to know how Arul is related to Jagan and where Michael fits in and so on. And when it appeared that a semblance of a plot was kicking in (something about Arul needing money to buy back his film), I dug out my phone and checked: it was a whole hour into the movie. Borrowing an image from Malarvizhi’s profession (oh wait, she’s an artist too; she’s literally an artist), it’s like daubs of paint slowly forming a bigger picture.
And you really like an expansive canvas. Not only does the crass producer have a brother, you also bring in his wife later on, to conclude a deal he began making. These segments practically form a mini-movie, with another woman left reeling by the actions of her man. Your films have this… density. They’re packed – with characters, with complications, with information doled out in bits and pieces. (A character says, “Un kitta onnu sollanum.” And instead of hearing what he has to say, we cut to someone else.) Take the scene where Michael asks Arul for money he is owed. You just need to get Michael to Arul’s antiques shop, so the next part of the plot can be staged. Arul could have told Michael to collect the money at the shop. Instead, this is what we get. Arul tells Michael to wait for a week, when he can get the 50 lakhs he is owed. Michael says he wants only 10 lakhs. Arul says he has only 8 lakhs, he’ll give the remainder later. Michael goes to Arul’s father, in the hospital. He has only 5 lakhs. And he directs Michael to the shop, to get the remaining 3 lakhs. Your signature intercutting adds to this texture, Karthik. Shots of Michael and Arul’s father in the hospital are intercut with shots of Arul hunting for booze. Shots of Michael and Jagan outside a courtroom are intercut with shots of Arul being consoled by his father. Happenings are stretched and meshed the way they would be in real life, and not compacted according to the page-per-minute requirement of screenplay-writing textbooks.
I could never predict where the film was going (win!), what these people were going to do (again, win!) –though I must admit I found this to be the weakest of your “twists.” The subplot about stealing sculptures, too, I found rather conceit-y, something half-heartedly cooked up to fit with the title and the theme, rather than something plausible, something these people would do. When Michael, here, commits murder, with a hammer, I went, “This mild-mannered chap? Really?” But then, even in Jigarthanda, I wasn’t quite convinced that the characters would do the things they did. They seemed to be puppets of a screenplay rather than credible human beings, whose actions evolve organically from who they are (or at least, who they seem to be).
But even if I am not convinced by the overall trajectory of your characters, I love how fleshed-out they are on a moment-to-moment basis. I loved the scene where Arul barges into Yazhini’s house, after their separation, on the day of her engagement to someone else. In a lesser film, she would have asked him to get out, and he’d have dug his heels in, and she’d have cooled down and… But here, she rushes straight into his arms. And you make us see why. She was frustrated, fed up with him. But she’s also confused. Was she hasty in abandoning this man? Should she move on with another man? Does she even need a man? With just this one scene, you’ve compensated for the underwritten heroine of Jigarthanda. The story arc may be Arul’s, but Yazhini registers as a fully formed character. Similarly, Michael’s arc allows for the delineation of Ponni and Malarvizhi, and through Jagan, we get glimpses of his mother, and possibly of all womanhood as viewed by a compassionate man. And then you say that women don’t need even this compassionate man (poor chap!), that they have to emancipate themselves instead of looking for a penis-wielding emancipator. What delicious irony, given that you begin the film with women talking about marriage, tying themselves to a man!
Or not, in the case of Malarvizhi, who is easily the film’s most interesting character. Her husband is dead, and she doesn’t want love anymore – only sex. When Michael buys her a diamond necklace, she gives it back to him – she can buy her own trinkets, thank you very much. But the character feels shoe-horned into the film, Karthik. I felt betrayed – and I bet she did too – that after a point, she was used simply as a plot device to get Michael and Ponni together, and also to illustrate Michael’s (who is now standing in for all of mankind) hypocrisy. I felt she deserved more. And yet, I appreciated your generosity in fleshing her out like all the others, without judging her. She gets to be the rare woman in Tamil cinema who dumps the man, and the way she lets go of Michael is echoed in the way Arul lets go of Yazhini, with a heavy heart and some playacting. A side effect of the Malarvizhi subplot is the reassurance that Vijay Sethupathi is still interested in making cinema, rather than just massy entertainers targeted at the box office.
Ponni gets a better deal (and Anjali is terrific, raw and expressive in a way she has never been). In a great scene – rather, a set of book-ending scenes – Michael tells Ponni that he was forced to marry her, and she’s going to have to “adjust” to this if she wants to be with him. Much later, she throws the “adjust” word back on his bearded face when he asks her if she slept with someone else. In a different kind of movie, we’d be invited to see this symmetry, stand up and applaud. But you’re too subtle for that, Karthik. Iraivi is your subtlest film. Which is why I winced at the melodramatic lines about men and women, most of which came towards the end. Aan, using the long-sounding vowel, versus penn, with the shorter one – for such a visual filmmaker (this is another outstandingly shot film, less showy than Jigarthanda and probably richer for that), do you really need the crutch of linguistic special effects from another era of filmmaking? Also, when the rest of your film is so allusive, isn’t there another way you can explain the twist without having a character resort to such an inelegant information dump?
And why is it that your films come together more in the head than in the heart? Why are they easier to admire than love wholeheartedly? I used to think it was because your characters are essentially deceitful, self-serving and unsympathetic, so though we were invested in what they did, we didn’t really warm up to them. But here, you have Ponni and Yazhini and Malarvizhi – and they’re still remote. But perhaps this is bound to happen when there are so many people, so many strands, when we don’t follow one person’s simplistic “you go, girl” journey like we do in, say, 36 Vayadhinile? But when the parts are so well-crafted, we don’t complain as much about their sum not adding up to a satisfying whole. I am sure that you will, one day, make that wholly satisfying film, but for now, thank you for these parts. Thank you for the ambition. I felt there were too many songs (some good work by Santhosh Narayanan), but thank you for ensuring that they don’t break character, the way songs usually do when a character speaking in his or her voice suddenly segues into the playback singer’s voice. Thank you for giving us SJ Surya, the actor – I never dreamed he had such a capacity to hold a scene, to hold the screen. Thank you for continuing not to sell out. Thank you for trying to do so much, even if not all of it needed to have been tried. And thank you for making me fight with myself, for not making it easy to decide if you’ve made a “good” film or a merely “okay” film. For now, Iraivi is a fascinating film, and that’s enough.
Sincerely, etc.

Chapter 1: the event
It was the fall of my intern year as I bean my off service trauma rotation. This month was ubiquitously notorious for being the most labor intrusive and least productive rotaion of our emergency medicine program. Knowing this I entered with the intention of simply surviving the month.
Another intern and I let’s call them A for sake of ambiguity, we’re the first emergency medicine residents to roste on the trauma services that year. A shaky start would be an understatement. In the words of chance the raper “like my grama with the Parkinson’s playing operation.” Would better describe it. Medically we did well. We were very competent and completed our work daily, but communication and coordination was non existent. Our Cheifs had informed us that Tuesday was our day of and the Trauma cheif residents had minimum communication with us, or our Cheifs as it seams when A and I did not report on Tuesday they sternly made their dissatisfaction known.
I have struggled with insomnia sense the age of 10. Had 2 sleep studies by this point in my life and been prescribed nearly every sleeping aid on the market. The 80-94 hr work weeks of our trauma rotaion only worsened my insomnia. My lack of sleep likely contributed to a less than prime adaptive immune system and 2 days out of my trauma rotaion I contracted strep like symptoms with associated nausea, requiring me to call for a sick day the next day. No the first day that I felt too ill to work. I was not fully aware of the reporting process. I reported to my Chiefs, but I did not believe I could come to work tomorrow with amble time and notice, however I was somewhat delayed in letting their Cheifs know, because the surgical chiefs rotated every few days and I did not know who my was going to be the next day. The second day which I had to call out sick I was able to locate the cheif for the next day and reprot according to our university’s protocol, which requires that if a resident feels they are not fit for work they must not come in and the university must have staff coverage without any fear or implementation of punitive actions.
I had finally survived to the last week of my trauma rotaion and I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. What I could not see was the pile of stress, shitty diet, lack of mental well ness and sleep deprivation which I was pushing down to reach the light. By this time I had seen a psychiatrist regularly for sleep medication. I had mentioned to him that I had been experiencing more stressed lately and feel that I might be depressed. he reassured me that it was likely only due to my circumstances, given the difficulty of the trauma rotation and wish to reassess once the rotation was over. Looking back I had to fill the habit of drinking more than I usually do. My only on nights before I have days off became 1-2 beers every other night. All of this repressed unhealthy shit finally pushed bad on September 23rd. That night I was at work even later than usual, I stayed up later than usual and couldn’t seem to fall asleep. With the stress of only having minimal sleep and knowing I only had 2 more days of trauma left, I took an extra dose of my sleeping medication.
I opened my eyes to the fighting sight of sun beaming in my window and I instantly knew I was late. (Sense I hadn’t seen the sun in a month) . Due to my need for scrupulous sleep hygiene I have been sleeping with my phone of and away for me. I rushed to grab it and watched as the little Apple logo seamed to glow on the screen for an eternity. Then in conjunction with its fading I saw 3 missed calls from my director, a text from college A and 2 missed calls from the surgical director. Still, I was able to calm myself, knowing that resident A had been late to this rotation by a few hours 2 other days and nothing came of it. I called my director back and he asked me to report to his office where I was greeted by my director, my coordinator and another emergency medicine facility.
With the only explanation of: “we just want you to get better”, I was handed a letter, to my relief it did not entail my termination, but a declaration of administrative leave and a requirement to undergo an evaluation at a well known university in Florida.
Lake any other savvy millennial, I did my research. By research I mean numerous google searches and screeches thru the depts of redit. To my dismay I discovered that in order for a residency program to fire you, they must first initiate an administrative suspension. I would soon find out however, being terminated would have been a delightful outcome compared to what ensued.
I spend the next few weeks in the wallos of regret and depression. I indulged in higher qualities of alchohol then I ever have before. I all but ceased communing with peers, and abruptly stoped any physical activity I had once enjoyed. Frightened as I was I was ensured, it will be ok “we just want you to get better”
Chapter 2 The evaluation : guilty until proven innocent I did exactly as instructed and scheduled an evaluation, I supposed that this was either a mental evaluation to assess if I’m fit for work with plans of termination or it actually was an evaluation to better treat my insomnia. To this day I regret my ignorance, and wish I had researched the process more. The Hindi / sand-skrt idea of Hamsa 🪬 is that in order to do any good you must have full knowledge or else good intentions can result in harm. I truely believe my director had good intentions, however but him and I did not have full knowledge of the nature of this evaluation.
Looking back see how easily I could have avoided my troubles by asserting legal aid at this point or even by researching this evaluation process more in depth. If one searches impaired practitioner program which I now know this evaluator works for, the search entire will populate 5 or 6 layferms along side their home website and there is a valid reason for this.
If one every finds themself in this process I employ you to bring a DSM to your evaluation or at least be familiar with the most common use disorders in the DSM-5, because your evaluation will turn into a dance of questions where the evaluator attempts to trap you in a round about way to stating something that may qualify for one of the diagnosis. I have provided an image from the DSM-5 below outlining AUD, which the evaluator concluded that I had the most severe from:
Image
Example***** Here are 10 examples of how he fraudulently assessed me taken directly from his assessment note.

1. Evaluator: Have you ever stoped drinking in the last year.

Me: yes I stoped every week day, I was only drinking on the weekends, until two weeks ago.
-Evaluator uses stoping and starting every week to qualify for 2 or more unsuccessful attempts to stop in the last year “There is a persistent desire or unsuccessful efforts to cut down or control alcohol use.”

1. Evaluator Have you ever had withdrawal symptoms

Me no
Evaluator Well Have you ever had a hangover? You know that’s a from of acute withdrawal
Me: yes in college, I had a few but that was years ago and I’m pretty sure the pathophysiology is different.
Evaluator uses this to count for withdrawal symptoms even tho is was more than a year ago

1. Evaluator: Have you even taken your sleeping medication on a day or night which you drank? Me: Yes, I took my prescriptions are prescribed but I never drank close to bed

Evaluator: qualified this as dangerous behavior with alcohol (where the DSM gives examples such as unprotected sex and drunk driving). The sleeping medication I was on is not a benzodiazepine therefore it is not deadly with alcohol. I personally have seen many patients in the ED who have taken their entire bottle of the medication and drank copious amounts, we just monitor them over night and rehydrate them

1. Evaluator Has anyone told you you drink to much or been worried about you Me: No I drink much less than my friends

Evaluator what about your girlfriend? Me: well she actually doesn’t drink at all she doesn’t like it. She often buys me beer for The Weeknd’s tho. One time we went to a movie and she got a little irritated because I waited for beer then complained about them not having any craft beer. So she said, “you couldn’t have just said no” and drank something else. However, she apologized after and said it’s worth waiting if it’s my only day off.
Evaluator said this qualifies for continued drinking despite causing significant relation consequences, ie divorce.

1. Evaluator : you have sleep issues I hear, and your chart says you’ve had depression in the past, don’t you know that alcohol can effect your sleep and mood Me: yes that’s why I never drink within 3 hours of sleep.

Evaluator but you knew this and still drank
Evaluator: qualifies for drinking despite unwanted physical or psychological effects (this should be recurring to effects the alcohol is causing, I have had insomnia sense the age of 10 long before I took my first sip)
7 evaluator you were late for work and told my you had a drink the day before
Me: Yes but I was late because I didn’t sleep and took double my sleeping meds, I will never do that again
Qualifies for 2 significant work or school issues in the past year ( a therapist and other psychologist ensured me that being late on or a few days doesn’t count they typically are getting fired or failing) ( moreover, this would assume I was late do to drinking it’s self and also assume if happened more than once)

1. • Alcohol is often taken in larger amounts or over a longer period than was intended

He never once asked anything related to this question yet said I qualified in his final report 9. A great deal of time is spent in activities necessary to obtain alcohol, use alcohol, or recover from its effects. The evaluators logic here was sense I was late for work and I had 2 beers the day before I must be taking long to recover from it (this is assuming I missed due to alcohol)

1. Tolerance drinking more to require the same effect: this he checked as true in his final note however it was never even discussed in our evaluation. I did mention to him that I’ve been drinking more than I had earlier in the year frequency wise, but they said nothing to do with quantity or needing more.
   
2. Wanting to drink so bad you can not think of anything else: this is the only qualification of SAUD my evaluator said I did not have.
   

Moreover, without legal help I was not aware that I could obtain a second evaluation or even oppose going to get evaluated at all, but that wouldn’t have mattered seeing I still thought this was for my health and wellbeing as seen when I was asked why do you think you are here to today, to which I replayed “so that I can be evaluated to see what is needed to get back to work”.
To maks the ordeal more infuriating the evaluator continues to ingratiate himself and lie through the process telling you, “it will be fine as long as you are 100% honest”, “anything you say in here is between you and me” or “you slipped up once with your meds, I know your residnecy program they will probably just want a few more out patient tests”
Two weeks later I received a phone call right before I left for an out of state vacation to visit my nice for her birthday. During the call I was informed that I would be required to complete a partial hospitalization program (PHP) lasting “6-10 weeks” which would coast from 15-50 grand not including doctor visits or housing which is billed separately. I suppressed this inconvenience, enjoyed my vocation and reported when I returned, knowing that I must complete this soon so I may return to work with due to the fact that my payed time off would soon be diminished. At this time I had not yet heard of the organization PRN.
Chapter 3 Guilty till proven innocent: The diagnosis
Shell shocked I arrived to a in patient psychiatric unit and was rapidly cleared to progress to treatment without detoxification. During my 90 day of forced rehabilitation I met a few other individuals who were unjustly and fraudulently forced into treatment. I began to look up to one of these such members of the men’s community, who I will refer to as patient X for ambiguity sake.
Unlike me patient X did have alcohol use disorder. He spent many clinic days drinking to avoid alcoholic withdraws. The curious component of his story is that he admitted his depravity, saught help and through his own journey became sober. The bodies at be, namely his local physician, Health monitoring program, rejected his personal path to sobriety and forced him to undergo 90 days of in patient treatment before he could practice medicine again. When he checked in to rehab he had been sober for over a year.
Ask for Stories of people from online
As for me I spend many sleepless nights pondering how consuming a legal substance in a moderate amount could throw me into significant legal financial issues. My labs my toxicology, my story and my collateral from colleagues from colleagues all indicated light to moderate alcohol use but my evaluators word stood as the word of God.
More frightening was the director of this rehabs acknowledgment of this. The director who happens to also coincidentally be the evaluator, stated to me as well as to staff on multiple occasions: “ I suggest inpatient treatment for everyone who is reported”. “This is safer for me not to miss anyone who could harm patients, and I figure there must be a reason someone reported them.”
I am still elucidating the reason why I was determined guilty and proven innocent, however I can say from my 90 day stent that the majority of the patients at this rehab needed to be there. This program is saving lives of both providers and patients, however it is destroying the lives of those wrongfully accused.
Chapter 4 your lisense rehab or jail : Upon arivil I was sent to a detox hospital underwent a medical examination and was “one of the lucky ones” who required no detoxification and could report directly to PHP. Like everyone else, I spent 90 days in a PHP, being as 6-10 weeks is simply a lie they tell patients to decrease the change of resisting the treatment. When discussing the topic one therapist sated “if we told patients 90 days they would never come.” She then attempted to justify the treatment by outlining the story of a patient she had called who “didn’t make it to treatment” and killed themselves”. It is my belief that it is not the lack of PHP which impelled such professionals to take their life, but them realizing that they now will be obliged to undergo 90 days of PHP, 5 years of PRN monitoring with a loss of autonomy and hundreds of thousands of dollars taken from them that induced their hopelessness. For even if these professionals were truly mentally unstable in their addictions, in every case it was only following a phone call where they were informed they must undergo treatment that they took their life’s. By this time I still haven’t the slightest clue what PRN was.
Despite the security these programs provide for many my 6 main issues with them can be summarized in : 1. Kick backs: evaluators are directors of treatment clinics 2. The reported are guilty till proven innocent 3. The price, the overflow of money these places drag in from both patients and state universities is appalling, they charge separately for every visit and test 4. Although they make the claim that they are individualized, they are anything but. Every patient gets the same stay and treatment from the doctor drunk on the job and the one who was late to a shift 5. They force voluntary treatment. remember that friendly evaluator who promised he had your best interest at heart, so you opened up and told him everything about your substance use/ developmental / family history, well if you don’t stay for 90 days he will be “normally obliged” to tip the board of medical off to you.

1. The programs have overstepped their intended jurisdiction. -these programs work well if they function how they were intended at their inception. Cite original purpose. Originally these programs were designed to protect physicians and civilians from impaired practitioners; being healthcare workers who were impaired at work. Over the years, these organizations have extended their authority to encompass individuals with substance use disorders When not at work and also those who are in training to become healthcare professionals. Take for example myself compared to a physician who is impaired at work. A doctor who arrived for duty under the influence would surely benifit from the extensive testing, therapy and accountability enforced via these programs. In accordance the 20,000$ per year cost is appropriate when only making up roughly 7% of their yearly salary vs nearly half of a residents. In my case with my loss of income from employment, coast of treatment and monitoring, this year I will be required to pay 20,000$ to work. Yes, I will be losing money to work. Even if did indeed have a substance use disorder this level of monitoring wouldn’t not be considered appropriate.

Dispite all of the miscomings of this System My time spend in PHP was indeed helpful, as I believe it would be for anyone. Time for exercise, a reprieve from work and weekly counseling. A sample structure of my day to day schedule is provided below for insight:
Structure The general structure of these rehabitation centers is as follows: 1. One week of orientation phase, where you are not allowed in electronics or contact with the outside world world. Therefore, if you’re going, bring some things you would like to read or study. 2. In phase 2, you can use your phone however you cannot leave campus. You must stay in the dorm on campus. These shitty 1 room run down apartments with two other roommates will cost you about $1000 a week, they are required for at least four weeks and they are billed separately, no insurance will help you out here. 3. In phase 3 you can commute to campus if you beg your therapist and live very close. Whether you’re on campus or living off-campus, you are allowed to leave up to four hours per day. If you commute, you’ll be required to take a sober link decide you must Breath, alcohol test into every 6 hours. Like everything else in this program you must pay for this separately, a few hundred dollars a week. You advanced to other phases by completing assignments, however, assignments are limited by required built-in time, intrusive, scheduling, and reviewing. Therefore, if you do everything as rapidly as possible phase 1 will take one week phase 2 will take three weeks.
Every day schedule:
7:30: wake up, report to the front desk to inform them that you haven’t ran away yet and take and prescribed medications. They keep all your medications and require that you report to take them; for me this was antidepressants in an attempt to dispel the depression I contracted from being forced into treatment and whatever off label medication they were attempting to treat my ADHD with, since control medications were forbidden.
8 am: community group assessments This consisted of other patients presenting their assignments amongst the large group, on the weekends this was often an hour later and 12 study regularly took the place of assignment presentation.
10 am: process group. This was a two hour group therapy session with 6 to 12 other professionals in a therapist and training or occasionally a licensed mental health therapist.
1 pm: recreation This was generally about an hour of some sober themed craft or activity. Once a week this time slot was used for yoga.
2 pm: this was another time slot used for patients to present assignments as well as for individual therapy sessions. Each patient had one individual therapy session lasting 30 minutes per week.
3pm: This was time allotted to work on assignments or go to the gym on your sex specific scheduled gym day.
5pm: this time was used for guest speakers or another 12 step study group.
6 pm : this was generally an off-campus 12 step group
10 pm: report to the front desk and let them know you still haven’t ran away and take and Medication which are prescribed to take at night, then return to your cot bed in your room with 1-2 other roommates.
I found the community to be one of the most beneficial aspects of the PHP program. I was in a cohort of chill ass professionals of the same occupation who were always there to help each other.
Assignments The curriculum of the PHP consisted of assignment based on every step of the 12th step program. Generally, a patient would be required to complete an assignment on their own, review it with other patients, then faculty and finally present the assignment in front of the whole treatment group. You’re only given one assignment at a time and there are multiple steps to each which all requires scheduling this ensures that no matter how determined a patient is a full 90 days of treatment is required to complete all the assignments.
AA structure -the obsolete nature of AA has been verified in numbers studies, but I will refrain from divulging here and lend that endeavor to Dr. Lance Dodes very thorough discussion on the subject,in “the sober truth “
In all sincerity, if I truely did have a severe use disorder this experience could have been life saving. I only wish I could have used my 50 grand for someone who has spent their life time In addictive without reprieve. My first conversation when I was given my phone back was how I wish my father could be able to attend this PHP.
Chapter 5 reporting and PRN Self reporting What they ask you What you should tell them
There’s a third-party agency called professional resource network. Every state has their own. This agency works as a liaison between you and whatever credentialing service your occupation requires. Essentially they ensure your monitoring after treatment. Stake governments and licensing boards trust them, mainly because they monitor with the highest level of intrusiveness. This alleviates much work for state governments and licensing boards because once an individual is being monitored by a professional resource network, then they are deemed appropriate for duty and no further investigation/litigation needs to occur, as long as the monitored individual completely complies.
Because I was never impaired at work I was never reported to this agency. The general workflow of things someone would report you to professional resource network, then the resource network would contact you, and then you would be required to report for an evaluation at a treatment center, which would inevitably result in a suggestion I’ve treatment at that given treatment center. In my case I was sent to the treatment center without PRN being involved. Thus, two weeks into treatment. I was notified by my therapist that I needed to call PRN and self report. I attempted to resistance given that I did not have a problem and was not individually seeking help. I asked what happened if I didn’t self report. I was told that in order to stay in the treatment program I had to report to PRN. This meant either I report to PRN or I get kicked out of the treatment program and lose my job.
When you report to PRN they will ask you why you are in treatment. They will then list off every substance imaginable, asking you if you have ever tried the substance and when your last use was. Ultimately, they will obtain your discharge information from your treatment center, so it is in your best interest to report only what was found in your biochemical testing. If it wasn’t in your hair, I would argue that you don’t have a use disorder regarding that substance and it’s not relevant. I don’t believe it’s important for them to know that you smoked weed when you were 12.
Chapter 6 The contract:
Before being discharged from a treatment facility, a professional resource network will have you sign a contract. A little known fact which I was oblivious to is that contracts can be negotiated. Though this isn’t it possible, it is highly improbable that you can negotiate your contract since PRN has a power to delay your clearance to return to work.
Contractor almost never personalized, and I have not heard of a contract which is not a five-year agreement. You will sign releases of information so that PRN has access to all of your information which was gathered at the treatment facility. You must have a therapist, psychiatrist, primary care, doctor, and a addiction, medicine psychiatrist. You assign releases of information for all of them. You will be required To commit to: 1. three mutual aid meetings a week which you must log. I log smart recovery meetings. 2. Weekly therapy sessions with an approved mental health therapist from their list 3. Monthly doctors appointments with an addiction medicine psychiatrist 4. Yearly appointments with a primary care physician 5. Monthly appointments with a psychiatrist 6. Daily check-ins on a random drug testing app ( you will agree to weekly urine tests, a peth test 4 times a year, a hair test twice a year and a little caveat that says anything else they deem, clinically reasonable) 7. Quarterly update reports which you are required to obtain from a workplace monitor, therapist, addiction, medicine, psychiatrist, primary care physician and any other doctor you are seeing. 8. You must upload all of your prescriptions into a mobile application every single time you get them refilled and are not allowed to take them until they are approved. 9. Attendance of a PRN group via zoom. This is a local group you are assigned along with other monitored practitioners. There is a fee of roughly 130$ a month to attend this required group. For me all of these requirements coast around 20,000 a year. If you ever have a positive test even if it is the result of contamination from rubbing alcohol or unintentional ingestion of alcohol/ allergy medication your contract will rest to 5 years from the time of positive test. Once your five year contract is completed, you must ask to be released from monitoring. At that point they will search for any reason to keep you under monitoring. This could be dilute urines, daily check ins or a week where you did not attend mutual aid meetings. Every certification and license which you apply for will likely ask you if you were under a monitoring program/ have been treated for substance use. You must give an explanation and check yes. As far as licensing programs are concerned, if you were under the monitoring of PRN, you are safe, however they group practitioners who have had behavioral issues with practitioners who were diverting drugs from work. Therefore, keep in mind that you will be labeled as a sever addict.
7 Back to work and only work. During treatment your only goal is to return to work, however when you return your experience will be drastically distinct from what you remember. For me, I was now working in isolation. Missing six months of my training meant that no other Resident was on the same rotation as me. My coworkers at all formed friend groups. When I returned I was greeted with much concern for my well being. No one would speak to be about my absence, however everyone knew there is only one reason a resident would leave for 6 months then return. My Accdeemic meetings were consisting of attending telling me “I have a target on my back now” and “ I have to preform even better than others” in the light of my time missed. If this wasn’t alienating enough, the majority of Resident events, sponsored by recruiters and my university revolved around alcohol to which I had to give some excuse to why I can not partake with others. I’m fortunate that I do not have an addiction, because these stressful conditions along with the daunting amount of dead and requirements imposed by PRN are enough to make any addict relapse. While I was at treatment, I was in the dative with Samyr stories a physicians whose addictions got the best of them. Physicians who did not make it to treatment, often taking their own life. These stories were presented as a warning. Your addictions will kill you without our treatment was the message. When, in reality I did not hear one story in which the addiction killed physician. Every physician who didn’t make it to treatment took their life after being told they must report to a treatment facility. Perhaps they knew what this entailed and it was not their addiction or getting caught which caused them to end their lives, but the unmanageable and often unreasonable burden that treatment would put on their lives.
9 How to escape So your fucked your in PRN and should be or you should and now your recovered and want to terminated your contract.

1. You ask to be released early done at 1/2 time ( good luck)
2. You have “good reason” (no one has ever been let out of contract because of this reason, the verbiage is far too vague)
3. You serve all your time and they let you out(maybe, as discussed earlier, they would do everything they can to keep you in your contract as long as your practicing)
4. You can’t practice medicine anymore

10 Layer up butter cup : I cannot emphasize the extent to which legal help is required in this process. You much seek it and seek it early. Lawyers can provide many avenues to you early in the process. Once you have committed to treatment, gone for evaluation or are in a PRN contract , this is very little that you or legal help can do. Spend a few thousand dollars when you are accused and save the 20-30,000 later.
After you have been evaluated if you disagree as I did, then this is the process you must undergo. 1. Hire a occupation, defense, lawyer 2. Prove you don’t have an addiction, this is done by having an alternative evaluator with similar credentials state that either you don’t have an addiction or that PRN’s level of monitoring is not medically appropriate ( this will need to be a multi day neuropsychological evaluation, which will cost about $5000). 3. Your lawyer must draft in writing that the medical level of monitoring is not required such as another medical professional and send this to PRN 4. PRN will tattle on you to the board of medicine. 5. The board of medicine will conduct an investigation. 6. At the end or when they believe they have enough reasonable evidence to the board of medicine will suspend your license or claim, you must comply with the PRN contract to practice. 7. At this time your lawyer will defend you in the state court against the board. This is costly but much less than the coast of a 5 year PRN contract 8. If you win you will likely suggest an alternative level of care such as gonna get therapy every week. If you lose, than you wasted a fuck ton of money and are still bound by your PRN contract.
Overall this entire process has coast me Over all coast:
My finances for this year only including PRN and rent are as follows:
120-200$ every week for testing 480-800/ month
65 every week for therapy 195/month
125 every month for PRN group
About 50-69 every month for 2 doctor apts
So at least 745$/month at the lowest
Treatment at the recovery center coast 20,000 for me out of pocket and
I wasn’t payed for 6 months with no FMLA because I am a first year. At the 1 year mark I will have made 26,000 this year after taxes And payed About 29,000 on PRN alone
Rent is 1,000 so that’s 12,000 a year
Just in rent and PRN alone I will be at 26,000- 41,600 -15,600.
I will be in debt by at least 18,000 at the 1 year mark
Coast of treatment center 20,000 (with insurance) For each year of PRN roughly 20,000 Add that to 6 months of attending salary which was delayed due to my treatment time: at least 150,000 Layer coasts along with other evaluations 25,000 Missing 6 months of residency pay 30,000 Coast of 1 year in monitoring: 245,000 Coast of 5 years 325,000
If my case progress to a trail I will require an extra 20,000 in court coasts
Chapter 11 My secondary eval: Dr sushi After I arrived at my treatment center I challenge my evaluation multiple times. Each and every time I was discharged and often accused of alternate mental health/ substance abuse issues to discourage my advances. I was never given the opportunity to undergo alternative assessment, however PRN guidelines state that you can obtain a second option within 7 days of your first. This is a mute point, however, because you will not receive the results of your evaluation until over a week after it is conducted and the second evaluation must be conducted by another PRN hired evaluator of their choosing. During my stay in rehab I contacted PRN multiple times to attempt another evaluation/ legal help. They warned against both stating they were a “waste of money” and “pointless”.
After completing my treatment with the guidance of many addiction, experienced physicians, mental health counselors and psychiatrists recommendations I sought in a secondary evaluation. I chose a highly qualified professional with over 30 years of experience to conduct an extensive neuo psycho social evaluation of me. One that I was sure would be more extensive than the evaluation I received at treatment and more importantly an unbiased evaluation.
The results from my evaluation not only showed that I did not have a substance abuse problem warranting PRN level monitoring, but also that PRN was falling to allow adequate treatment of other conditions such as my ADHD. My evaluation showed my ADHD was not only untreated by PRNs attempt at using non controlled medication, but also in the top 3% most severe presentations of ADHD. My evaluator went on to explain my results by questioning why my treatment center even mandated I undergo neuro cognitive evaluation. The only neurodiverse findings were my IQ, my dyslexia and my ADHD. However, a neuo cognitive examination can be billed separately by treatment centers, therefore they always recommend one.
Chapter 12 Amongst its greed, intrusive nature and faulty accusations, professional recourse network function highly proficiently at the task they were designed to; protective physicians and patients from physicians who are impaired at work. In this domain they save lives, offer second changes and protect the public. When they act beyond their intended jurisdiction by imposing unnecessary monetary demands on practitionersin training, accuse practitioners without proof or act on behavior exemplified outside of a work setting they unjustly and inappropriately attack the week and innocent.
Proposed reform: As a trainee my universities malpractice insurance covers me for mistakes made at work. If a learner mistakenly harms a patient, then the university stands on their behalf. If the learner does something wrong under a teachers direct guidance, then the teacher is at fault. This makes sense logically as well as pragmatically. The state entrusts large amounts of money to hospital systems and universities to train resident physicians. A portion of this money is allocated to malpractice insurance. This should extend to accused impairment.
Suppose a training university was required to cover rehabilitation and monitoring of a resident of whom they claim is impaired. Alternatively they have the option of firing the trainee. This would reduce the number of innocent trainees being accused of impairment, make the process of rehabilitation more fair and provide a better use for tax payer derived dollars, which hospital systems are given to train residents. The truly impaired could still seek help, less false accusations would be made and with the employers having the ability to fire at the moment of impairment, there would be less chance of impairment at work.

Very very first post here on Reddit, and I admit I have no idea what I'm doing--I barely know how to use the site. **Please let me know if there is another or better thread I should post this on--this just seemed like the best at first glance! Thank you!**
I've been so nervous to type this up and ask, but I don't have many people to reach out to advice to so... I figured I'd ask the internet haha.
I (31M) recently left my job after saving up some money to move. I know I want to leave my current place in California, as I still live at home because it is unreasonably expensive to live here.
But my biggest dilemma is...I don't know what to do. Up to this point, I've done whatever my family suggested or said I should do. I did whatever I could to please them or make them happy. (Beginner recovering peope pleaser here! lol) Including what I studied in school, to joining and doing 4 years in the military, to just taking any job I could to please them. Even the degree I got was a weird compromise ...but it was useless in the end. With no motivation or ideas, I've ended up back home trying to save up and finally put my life on a path that I want for myself.
(I also want to state that I understand I am very lucky to be in the place I am, and that I have a home and a roof and food. I am thankful to my family who let's me live here and helps me if I need it.)
I am still torn about trying to get a Master's degree or start a new degree focus, or just moving somewhere and trying to find a job that will take me, but...
I think I should start with the bigger question. Where do I move?? If I could pick, I would move away from the US, if possible. As a trans person, I am nervous about the political climate here. I would probably look somewhere in Europe that is more LGBTQ+ friendly, and as for languages--I don't mind learning a new one if I need to! (I have visited a lot of places and happy to visit more with the potential of moving.) It will be hard but an experience of new culture and friends is more than worth it to me to learn. I've seen some programs about paying people to move places--is that really worth it? It does seem relatively hard to just move to a country without being sponsored, and sponsorships sound very difficult to come by. I know it's possible, and I've seen posts about people moving...but I want to be realistic. Should I go for it or am I more correct in my negative mind feeling that it's pretty hopeless?
I have also considered states to move to as well if I can't find a good way into another country. I am currently looking at Minnesota, Washington, Oregon, and Vermont/other North Eastern states. Does anyone recommend one of these over another? My biggest thing is that I want a colder state. After my military time in the 120 degree AZ summer, I honestly have come to hate anything above 65 degrees. Also, seasons would be a nice thing to experience, haha.
There's so many things on my mind but I don't want to turn this into a dang novel. I mostly...I just don't know where to start? When I try to search things, I get a bit overwhemled by all of the results and trying to weed out real information from clickbait or ads.
(I will gladly add any needed context or answer questions if I can! I am also posting this before I go to bed so I don't anxiously come to check things every few minutes, so I will look and reply tomorrow. Thank you in advance!)

Hi! New here. Using a different account as recommended.
I (22F) recently met my MM (35M) at my job. When first approached by him, He was really sweet/nice & respectful. After 3 days or so of seeing me around and talking to me, he asked for my number and offered to take me out.
I was very hesitant as to me it seemed unreal. He is from a different cultural background and he would send certain texts and say certain things about me (my looks) that I have never heard a man in the U.S. say to me before lol. After getting to know him a little more, I now know that is just how he talks and it isn’t fake. He tells me im beautiful all the time and how I take his breath away, how he wants to gaze into my beautiful eyes, etc lol. These things are sweet to me but also out of the norm for me so I don’t know how to exactly receive them other than blush and say thank you.
Fast forward, we were planning a date to the movies and a week or so before, his SO caught him in my car. We weren’t doing anything, just talking & he was kind of playing in my hair and touching my back, nothing crazy. We never got to go out as you would expect. We had met up in that parking lot two times. The first night, he drove to my city and all was fine & the second night, the same & that’s when everything happened. Come to find out, she was tracking him the first time but just couldn’t find out where he was.
I didn’t really know how to take that whole interaction and he apologized for it trying to get back into my good graces and told me that he didn’t know she was tracking him to where we were. He said he didn’t know she turned his location on his phone and it never occurred for him to check as he doesn’t recall when they shared locations before coming to the U.S. or even when they first got here. I do want to say that, he told me that this is the first time he’s ever gone out of his way to actually meet up with someone outside of his marriage and that he had never done this before & I do believe it as he is really sloppy and come to find out, he didn’t even delete our text messages in the beginning when we first started talking. For reference, it’s only been about a month and some change since we’ve been talking and engaging with each other.
We kept talking of course, he has sent me money, we’ve talked on the phone for hours some days/nights when she’s not around, he even told me that he’s in love with me. I told him, I’ve never been in love so im not sure if that’s what I feel for him or what exactly it feels like but I know I do have love and care for him (deeply). We connect on a different level than other people I have talked to, he’s emotionally mature and likes to talk things out, he makes me feel comfortable sexually and just in general and I can be my full self with him. Things have moved kinda fast with us but it also doesn’t feel unnatural and it feels good and I like spending time with him and just talking to him.
More time goes by and I end up getting a hotel by myself (just for fun lol, I love hotels). I did invite him for just a few hrs and we didn’t have sex but he definitely made me feel good and wanted. His SO ends up finding out he sent me money and that’s a whole thing. We meet up a week or so after that at the mall & the park. Those two days, I went to his house after (im really not sure if this was bad or not as I have seen some people say on the adultery subreddit this is probably a bad idea). I go there and again, we didn’t have sex but he makes sure im good of course.
I have never engaged in a physical affair with anyone and I truly don’t believe he has before (bc of his sloppiness) There has been one woman he told me about who was married like him & had kids, but from what he tells me, it didn’t go far (not as far as it has went with me). He also doesn’t have kids with his partner.
About 3 days or so after that, his SO finds out through a recording device put somewhere in the house. I can be heard on it of course. I’m not sure if you would call these D-Days or not but he’s been found out a lot within just this one month of talking and even still continues to go out of his way to contact me in different ways. We have not met up outside of work after those days at his house and have only talked on the phone or seen each other at work and talked there.
Their relationship right now from what he tells me and how we are communicating right now seems like prisoner and warden. There are recording devices all around their home. (He recently found one and moved it only for her to put it back). He goes outside to talk to me otp because of the devices in the home, every time he leaves work she demands to go through his phone, his location is always on, etc. He’s never talks negatively of her and honestly I would feel weird if he did. I do ask questions and he answers them but generally he just tells me that what she is doing is in the norm (culturally, I think?) & even though he doesn’t like it, he has to abide by whatever agreement they have right now.
She’s tried to bait me a couple times. She went through his phone and called me, expecting me to answer but I didn’t. She texted me from the app we use and said “hey” wanting to catch him in something (our thread was deleted but she found my number on the app so I don’t think she really found anything). It was also the weekend and that didn’t make sense to me. (I was also sleep lol). We usually don’t talk on the weekends for obvious reasons and also the weekends are times for myself as me and him do talk throughout the week and at work.
After all of this, we talked recently & I am not exactly sure im looking for a solution but maybe just opinions, advice, anything you can offer lol. I really do like him but I am fine with cutting contact as it hasn’t been that long and even though I really connect with him, he sometimes talks as if he deserves the lack of privacy she’s given him within his own home and even work life.
I don’t care for constant togetherness and I also know what I entered into so I am not asking for his time 100%. I also never asked him to leave his partner or choose because I know I don’t want that (I’m poly) but I do want to spend more alone time with him and see more of him (he might be moving states, not sure). But, his situation just seems like it might not be setup for us to do that like we did a couple times before. I’m just not sure if what we have is even a possibility anymore. I don’t really feel as if I should be telling someone how to act in an affair (if that makes sense lmao). I guess I’m just not sure if I should move forward with continuing talking to him or not?? I know he definitely wants to continue talking.
I will say though, that even though his location has been being tracked & also those times we hung out before, he’s found a way to see me multiple times.
I have seen a lot of people talk about OPSEC but it kinda feels as if he wants to get caught or either doesn’t care as much as he wants to, which is why he is so sloppy. He has said himself (while exploring his own thoughts) that maybe he has acted this way because he wanted to get caught. He’s told me since he’s met me that he doesn’t feel the same for her as he did. (They’ve been married 8 years now I think?)

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5. Data Security and Privacy: Ensure that the software provider follows best practices for data security and privacy protection. Look for features such as data encryption, regular security updates, and compliance with industry standards.
6. Customer Support and Training: Choose a provider that offers reliable customer support and comprehensive training resources. This ensures that your team can quickly resolve any issues and make the most out of the software.
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Wonder Women

Issue Fifty
Written by u/VoidKiller826
Edited by u/Predaplant
Arc: Revelations
*************************************************************
Greetings, people of Gateway City. This is your new peacekeeper speaking. You might know me as the White Magician, a rather crude name, but I will accept it considering Man’s World's lack of creativity. However, you may also call me Circe, and I am here with an important message that your news station will deliver for all to hear.
SCYTHE is no more: their HQ is under my and the Red Centipedes’ command. The Commander and his soldiers are dead and buried, as you all wished to happen. I was more than happy to oblige you if it meant depriving your stupid President of her next chance for reelection. Any survivors of the prison break are being hunted down by the people they locked in cages, who are more than happy to round them up as they once had been themselves.
But none of that’s important, for this recording is only to be heard by one person: Olympos, Wonder Girl, or whatever the fuck new title name you want to be called. This message is for you: You are to surrender yourself to me here in SCYTHE HQ in the next five hours, and in turn, I will not destroy this piss-end of a city. If you fail, I promise you, I will make Coast City look like a picnic by the time I finish with Gateway.
That cow you call Wonder Woman is dead, and I will make sure everyone else will follow her if you don’t comply with my request.
Your mentor learned a valuable lesson when she tested my patience.
*************************************************************
Spears Apartment - Gateway City:
[...President Cale has announced the complete closure of all access to Gateway City following the prison break that occurred in SCYTHE’s holding facility hours ago,] said Cassandra Arnold from GateNews, the city’s main news station. [We still have an unconfirmed number of escapees following the message sent by the White Magician, but the President has assured GateNews a solution will be found.]
Vanessa Kapatelis watched the TV in dismay. Pacing back and forth in the Spears duplex apartment, she had the TV on to pass the time while Ares worked on helping Helena and Cassandra upstairs.
“Here,” Vanessa turned away from the TV to see Tanya Spears handing her a bottle of water. “Something for you to drink.”
“Thank you,” Vanessa accepted the bottle. “I would prefer a beer, but this will make do.”
“My mom has her wine collection in a locked cabinet,” Tanya noted, pointing at the kitchen. “She doesn’t know that I know that, but I can get you a bottle?”
Vanessa chuckled. “Thanks, but I don’t want a girl your age to be walking around with alcohol or to get you in trouble with your mom.” She twisted the bottle cap and slowly drank. “I needed that… it feels like I’ve been dry for months.”
“It’s actually been 3 hours,” Tanya said, sitting on the sofa and opening her tablet to look over the internet. “I hope what she said wasn’t true… about Wonder Woman not being around…”
Taking a seat by her side, Vanessa saw that Tanya was reading through the report on what happened to SCYTHE. The escaped convicts had taken control of the SCYTHE headquarters and equipment after killing many of the agents that had stood in their way.
Seeing the photo of SCYTHE HQ burning angered her. That place should represent the absolute shield of Gateway. Now, it had come under the control of the convicts that they were supposed to stop because of Aeeta Branwen. A name that had made her happy now belonged to a stranger who had lied to her all this time.
Memories of their most intimate moments came flooding back: their first conversation, their first date, their kiss, and the morning after their date in her apartment. It was a moment when she thought she could finally stop grieving and move on from what happened to Coast City. And now, that had been disintegrated into oblivion.
In anger, she crushed the bottle with her hand, spraying water all over the table and the floor.
“Shit!” Vanessa stood up, finally realizing her mistake. “I am sorry!”
“Oh, it's fine!” Tanya ran to the kitchen to grab some paper towels. “It’s just water.”
“I know it’s just…” Taking the paper towel, the two began wiping the floor and the table. “I have a lot on my mind.”
“I’ll bet with everything that happened,” said Tanya, giving Vanessa a supportive smile. “Your friends are getting hurt, and you can’t do anything but watch. It would piss anyone off. I know it did with me when the RedCent guys invaded EE Tower.”
“Yeah…” Vanessa sat back on the sofa. “But this… I not only possibly lost many friends, but I was betrayed by someone I loved, someone who I thought was the one for me…” she said, distraught, as tears ran down her face.
Tanya, without saying anything more, hugged Vanessa closely. Despite them knowing each other for only a few hours, Tanya knew that Vanessa was in pain. Watching her loved ones being hurt by someone that she trusted must have been a hard truth to accept.
The doors upstairs opening and closing caught the two’s attention. Looking up, they saw Somya Spears descending, looking exhausted, like she had gone ten rounds in the ring. As she reached the ground floor, Tanya ran up to her mother, hugged her close, and guided her to the nearest chair to rest.
“Is everything alright, mom?” Tanya asked, worried.
“Yeah… just felt that I might take that long overdue vacation…” Somya answered, leaning against the soft chair with a tired sigh. “Maybe we’ll go to Paris like you wanted, Tanya…”
More steps followed, and Ares, or Mars as he insisted to be called, followed Somya, pulling his folded-up sleeves back. Unlike Somya, he didn’t seem any different from when he went upstairs to help the Sandsmarks, but the few strands of hair on his face told a different story.
“How are they?” Vanessa asked, walking up to the former God of War. “Are they ok?”
Ares turned to Vanessa. “The girl has a lot of heart, far too stubborn to let a beating keep her down.” He said with praise, impressed with the former Wonder Girl’s willpower. “Her Sumerian blood will help her heal in only a few days, but it won’t help her mental wounds after I told her the news about her mother.”
Vanessa had a lot of questions about what he had said, especially the word Sumerian; perhaps Cassie was not simply half-Olympian. However, she focused on the most important detail in his explanation. “What happened with Helena?” She asked in a worried tone. “Is she-”
“She is alive,” Ares said, but his expression shifted, frowning, making her nervous. “Physically, she will recover, she has only a few cuts and bruises. Even a human like her can heal those.”
“But?”
“But it's the spell Circe struck her with. It is unlike anything I’ve seen because it is of her creation,” Ares explained, and Vanessa ground her teeth together when she heard the name belonging to the stranger who hurt her and her loved ones. “Whatever she used, it is affecting her very soul, slowly killing her.”
“Like a virus?” Vanessa asked, and Ares nodded. “Magic can do that?”
“It does,” Ares answered. “Magic can create a nuclear bomb if the user has the patience for it. And Circe is a master at it, one of the very best and most gifted witches on the planet, so making something like this would be as easy as making a cake for her.”
Magic had never been SCYTHE’s priority, but the Commander still made them study anything related to the subject in case they had to face it. Vanessa had never expected to see it at this scale.
“Can you break it?” Vanessa asked. “Find a way to break the curse from Helena’s soul?”
Ares took a deep breath, pocketing his hands. “It’s too complex to break. I will admit Magic is not my strongest suit, but even if you bring in someone knowledgeable, it would be a while for them to break her creation,” he explained. “You need someone at her level of knowledge when it comes to magic, and I am not the best person to face her in that department.”
“Then we call for a specialist, anyone, really,” Vanessa said in desperation. “If this is like a virus, a curse, then we bring a surgeon to cut it out! Maybe Cassie can use her Justice Legion connection, or maybe you can call someone for a favor.”
Vanessa's desperation was clear. She was willing to call for the Justice Legion, the very people she swore to go against for their vigilantism, if it meant saving Helena Sandsmark, her promise be damned.
“The spell is growing far too rapidly. By the time you find someone, it will be far too late,” Ares said solemnly. “The only person in the world who can break the spell without any problem or fear of failsafe is Hecate, the Goddess of Magic. She was Circe’s mentor, and she taught her everything she could about magic. No matter how complex it is, Hecate would understand it.”
“She can help us?”
Ares shook his head. “No, she has no interest in helping the world unless it is connected to her directly, and even then, dealing with her is the worst-case scenario because there is a chance she’ll side with Circe before she even thinks of helping us.”
“So what now?” Vanessa asked, sounding defeated. “Just let Helena die? Let Cassie suffer? Let Circe win?!” she shouted angrily, finally addressing Circe by name. All of this explanation from Ares told her one thing: that the Witch had them beat, and they couldn’t do anything about it.
Ares didn’t react to her outburst, while the Spears looked worried. Tanya, for her part, tried to walk up to calm Vanessa, but the War God raised his hand to stop her, shaking his head and giving her the silent sign to let Vanessa be.
“There is one way: it will be quicker if we act fast enough, but it would take everything from all of us for it to happen,” Ares said, beginning his explanation. “There is a chain link connecting the spell, from the spell caster to Circe. This means it can be broken if we force Circe to release the chain connecting her to Helena…” he explained, letting his words be understood by the occupants in the room before finishing with one last note. “Killing Circe would also break the binding if she didn’t leave any contingencies.”
Vanessa gritted her teeth. “So we have to make her break the spell, and hopefully she doesn’t screw us over… or we kill her, and hopefully she still doesn’t screw us over even in death?” she asked, and Ares nodded. “What kind of person is willing to put in all that work? Just for revenge? On Diana, who is long gone?”
Ares shrugged and turned to the Spears, his gaze focused on Tanya, his daughter. Someone whom he never thought he would meet again was facing him, without knowledge of their blood relations.
“Possibly,” Ares answered, taking a step back. “But if there is one thing I know for sure, Circe does not put these kinds of bindings without any reason. Whatever that reason is involves Cassandra Sandsmark and whether she will choose to make Circe break the spell or kill her, tainting her forever.”
Silence came to the room, letting Ares’s words sink in for all occupants, which might have been the same words he said to the Sandsmarks.
*************************************************************
The room of Somya Spears was quiet, with the only sound being the breathing of Helena Sandsmark lying on the bed sleeping. The room was spacious, with an expensive queen-sized bed as expected from an interim CEO of one the largest companies in the world.
Seated a few feet away on a chair was Cassandra Sandsmark, dressed in fresh clothes given to her by Somya after throwing off the bloody tattered ones she had arrived in. Watching her mother closely, Cassandra’s mind was racing, especially after what Ares told her about the curse Circe placed on her mother, slowly destroying her soul bit by bit until she was nothing but a husk.
“Dammit!” In anger at their situation, she crushed the armchair, tearing its arm off like it was made of paper. If she was stronger, faster, and had the heart for it, she would have stopped the Witch, stopped her from hurting her city, the people of SCYTHE, and those caught in the crossfire, stopped her from hurting her mother…
She buried her face into her hands, tears running down her eyes as she despaired. Everything she worked on after Coast City evaporated was ground up under a very powerful enemy out for revenge.
Considering Circe’s ultimatum, her city could well be gone by the time this was over.
“Artemis… please be safe…” she whispered. She had nearly had a panic attack when she heard the news of the Amazon heading to SCYTHE HQ to stop the prison break, and then… nothing. No matter how many times she dialed her phone, there was no one answering, and she feared for the worst.
She heard her mother coughing, and Cassandra was quickly by her side. “Mom!” she called for her, holding her hand.
“Cassandra?...” Her mother said her name weakly. Her skin was becoming paler, a clear sign that the curse spell was working. “Are you… ok?”
“I’m fine, Mom,” Cassandra answered, covering the bandages hidden inside her clothes. “We’re safe. You’re safe.” she said, tightening both her hands around her mothers.
“Did you… break something?” She asked, looking at the chair behind her. “You shouldn’t be… doing that… we are guests…”
Cassandra laughed, her tears falling away. “Sorry… it’s just… it’s been a hell of a week…”
Helena touched her daughter’s cheek, noticing the bandage on it. “You’re… hurt…”
“It’s alright, Mom. Just a few bruises,” Cassandra assured. “You shouldn’t worry, you know I can take it…”
“I am your… mother, Cassandra,” Helena said, facing her daughter. “Demi-God or not… I will always be worried… scared for my little girl.”
Cassandra’s tears came back. Seeing her mother remain strong despite everything made her happy, and she was terrified of losing her.
“So… my soul is cursed?” Helena asked.
“You heard all that?”
“Can’t not… with all the swearing…” Helena noted, giving her daughter a small smile. “You shouldn’t swear at people, Cassandra, especially those who are trying to help.”
“I know, I know,” Cassandra said. She had gone off on Ares after he explained what happened to her mother, and she might have overreacted when she put all her anger on the former War God. “It’s just… I don’t want to lose you… not while we can fix this.”
Helena sat up on her bed, fully facing her daughter. “Which is why… I don’t want you to make the wrong choice.”
“I won’t,” Cassandra said with a low tone. “I will make Circe free you from this curse-”
“No, Cassandra,” Helena grabbed both of Cassandra’s hands with hers. “That is not what I meant…”
Cassandra raised her brows, confused. “Mom?”
“I heard everything… from Circe’s spell… how it works… and how it can be broken…” Helena said, shocking Cassandra. “I know you already decided what you feel you have to do.”
Cassandra didn’t answer, avoiding her mother’s disapproving gaze accusing her. Ares said the quickest way to break the binding and the spell was either by forcing Circe to break it herself or by killing her, severing the connection.
But if what Circe said was true, that Diana decided to kill her instead of making her surrender like everyone else who faced her, that means there was no chance the Witch would submit willingly. She would rather die than give the satisfaction of admitting defeat.
Which left only one solution where she could save her mother.
Helena sighed, knowing what decision her daughter might have made. She held her hand tightly and changed the subject. “I have to tell you something…”
“No, mom. You’re not giving me the ‘Dying Speech’, not while there is a chance we can save you-”
“It’s about your father,” Helena cut her off, shutting Cassandra up. “Your real father…”
Cassandra remembered Circe calling her Daughter of Enlil, not Zeus. Ares said he was a friend of her father, which confused her because Ares hated Zeus, so it wouldn’t make sense that he would help out even if they were his siblings.
“Enlil…” Cassandra said the name aloud, and Helena’s eyes widened, her breath hitching when she heard the name. “Circe… she called me Daughter of Enlil… Child of the Sky...”
Helena took a deep breath, bringing her daughter closer. “Yes… that is true…” she began. “You are not Zeus’s daughter, Cassandra, nor you are an Olympian in any way… but you are in fact… Sumerian… Mesopotamian,” The elder Sandsmark brought her youngest closer and spoke carefully, as if worried that someone might hear them. “Your father is Enlil, the Sumerian God of Wind… and he was the kindest man I have ever known…”
From then on, Helena explained Cassandra’s origins as carefully as possible, pushing on even while the spell affected her. She explained how she met Enlil, a man with golden hair similar to Cassandra’s, who introduced himself as an expert in Mesopotamian history during an expedition in Iraq. They had become rivals at first due to their clashing personalities, but how that developed into respect, to eventually falling in love after a very lengthy adventure that sounded like the plot of The Mummy.
And that love resulted in Cassandra’s birth. He helped raise her with Helena for the first year and a half before he disappeared because he had Olympian enemies and had to leave them to keep them safe.
While she explained all this, Cassandra’s mind went to another piece of critical information. Her father’s true identity had never been the most important thing for her. But what made it important was what Circe told her about Diana’s true reason for coming to Gateway City. It wasn’t just settling in a ‘piss-end of a city’ the more she taught about it, the more she realized the terrifying truth behind her mentor’s reasoning for coming to the city.
Diana was sent to find Cassandra, a Sumerian Demi-God, the Olympians greatest enemy since the Titans, and eliminate her. The prophecy of the Godkiller that they had feared might have come from Cassandra, but all it did was start a long, personal, and bloody war between two women because of the gods' demands for blood.
And now, she, Artemis, and Gateway City suffered the consequences. Even after Diana’s death, Circe would not let her hatred for what had happened to her go, and if it meant destroying her mentor’s legacy, she would do it.
‘Diana…’ Cassandra thought in sadness.
*************************************************************
SCYTHE Sub Base - Industrial District:
“I am not sure how you were able to do it, but you somehow found an ever more depressing place than that HQ of yours. It makes the cell you put us in look like a five-star hotel room,” said one Pamela Isley, formerly Poison Ivy, seated in the middle of a large room behind a large table. Around her were what was left of the SCYTHE agents they had saved during the escape, all working to get the makeshift base they had hidden up and running.
Alexei Abramovici, the Bloodcrow of SCYTHE, glared at the former supervillain, not happy with her comment. He turned to one of his men and began barking orders, “You! Get the goddamn Black Room working! We are running blind here!”
‘Worker drones even without their Commander.’ Pamela looked on unimpressed at the agents. She had never been that sympathetic to the plight of cops getting killed, especially militarized ones. The once mighty and feared peacekeepers of Gateway, who went to war against all the crime syndicates and the Red Centipedes, were now a mere little squad that won’t be able to protect a mini-mart, let alone every escaped convict under the command of the White Magician.
“Man… the signal here sucks!” complained Miguel Barragan by her side, raising his phone and trying to catch any kind of signal. “Could barely talk to my boyfriend when I called him, and can’t connect to the internet,” he complained. He tried once again to call but he couldn’t find a signal. “Useless brick…”
“We are underground in a bunker previously owned by Neo-Nazis, Barragan,” Pamela noted. From what she had heard, this used to be an old RedCent hideout that SCYTHE took over after the war, using it as a smaller base in case of emergency. “Not receiving any signal is part of the appeal of the place.”
“Bunker, huh…” Miguel chuckled. The name Bunker reminded him of the super name that he picked out; the more time passed, the more convinced he was that it was the right one.
Pamela gave a confused look at his expression and shrugged it off. Turning to her right, she saw the silent Emily Sung staring off into the distance. Unlike Barragan, Emily had other matters on her mind. Whatever she sensed or saw back at SCYTHE HQ freaked her out, like seeing something she shouldn’t.
Just as Pamela was about to ask her how she was feeling, a knock on the large blast doors echoed around the base, loud enough for all to hear. Quickly, everyone felt tense, and the SCYTHE agents covered the door as Alexei signaled them to aim their weapons. After the news of the escaped convicts taking control of SCYTHE HQ and their equipment and weaponry, the agents knew that they were being haunted now by the convicts looking for revenge, so they were not taking any chances.
“Would you mind opening the door!” A familiar voice said behind the door, a voice Pamela recognized right away. “I have a bloody Amazon here, and I would like her off my fur!”
“Barbara?” Pamela realized.
“Minerva? As in the Cheetah?” Alexei asked, eyes narrowed with suspicion. “She could be working with them, with the White Magician.”
“She isn’t,” Pamela answered, glaring at the SCYTHE soldier for the accusation. “She would never ally with the psychos you had under lock and key.”
Alexei scoffed. “That woman got a cemetery filled with people who say otherwise, and she hurt the mother of someone I know.”
Before the two could argue, Miguel stood up and decided to take action. He extended his hand, forming a large arm construct from it, and grabbed the handle of the blast door. With one pull, he opened it wide. Barbara entered. Her feline form made some of the SCYTHE agents tense, and weapons were still trained on her.
“Quite the welcoming committee…” she noted in sarcasm. “Now, would you be dears and get this woman some help?” She adjusted the unconscious and bloody Artemis on her back. Her blood covered Barbara’s fur.
“Medic!” Alexei called for an agent nearby before turning to Miguel. “And you, don’t use your freaky powers until I order you to do so.”
“Sorry tin man, I don’t speak fascist,” Miguel responded with a smirk, and Alexei glared at him.
The medic quickly came to Barbara and guided her to a nearby makeshift hospital room, which had a bed and various equipment to help the SCYTHE wounded. Barbara went in haste, and gently, with the help of the medic, they placed the injured Amazon on the bed, her blood soaking the white sheets red.
“How the hell did you even find us?” Alexei asked as he and the others entered. “I made sure I covered all our steps.”
“You did,” Barbara noted, stepping back to let the medic check on Artemis. She turned to Alexei and pointed at her nose. “But one of you has a very special pheromone that I can smell for miles,” she said with a smile as she turned her gaze to Pamela. “Still with those rose scents around you.”
The redhead smiled. “Maybe it’s that mark you left on me.”
“More than you think, Pammy.”
“Christ…” the medic gasped, catching everyone’s attention. “How is she still alive? And how long has she been like this?” He asked, examining the injured Amazon.
Her armor was wholly wrecked, beyond repair. Her headpiece was half broken, and the gauntlets and braces on her arms and legs were dented and unusable. Her injuries were severe: open wounds, slash marks, and burn marks were all over her body, and judging from blows on her armor, she might have had a few broken bones as well.
“Didn’t bother to look at the time with some of the grunts that were sent after us,” Barbara answered, leaning on a nearby chair as fatigue finally set in for her. “But these Amazons are too stubborn to die, and I know that from experience…”
The number of times Barbara thought she had beaten Diana only for the Amazon to get back up and beat her back was many, and it frustrated the woman to no end, but now she couldn’t help but be in awe at the resilience of these warriors.
“Her Amazon gifts will heal her,” Barbara noted. “But I am not sure how long it will take…”
“I doubt it will take more than a few days at least…” the medic noted, bringing out some bandages and wrapping them around her arms. “She will need a miracle to even walk out of here on her own two feet.”
“Uhmm…” Everyone in the room turned to Emily Sung, who stood by the doorway. “I… I think I can help her heal faster.”
Barbara and the medic gave her an odd look. To better explain it, Emily brought her hands together, and a small flame began to form from her palm. However, they weren’t bright orange flames; they were blue flames, and they didn’t feel any heat from them.
“I developed this technique while training,” said Emily. “It's a fire spell that doesn’t burn, but it heals people. I first used it on Miguel when he hurt his hands, and it was instantaneous,” she explained, and Miguel showed his fully healed hand as if he was demonstrating it. “But this will be the first time I will heal someone with this severe of injuries…”
Pamela and Barbara looked at the blue flames with wide eyes. In Pamela’s case, she was told that Emily had powers, and from Miguel’s description, she had the power of all the elements. However, seeing it firsthand and feeling it from just that tiny flame made her sense there was power behind it, warmth, like the sun.
“Do it,” Barbara said, taking a step back. “At this point, if we need magic to get her back into the fight, we better get to it before we lose her for real.” She turned to the shocked medic. This was the first time he would ever see magic in play. “And you, guide her in whatever wounds need to be healed.”
The medic nodded. It was better than nothing. With his guidance and Miguel’s support by her side, Emily went to work to heal Wonder Woman, who was in a state of life and death if they didn’t work fast enough, all while Circe and her crew were out there terrorizing the city.
“What’s the news out there?” Alexei asked after the three left the infirmary room. “We are in the dark here, and I couldn’t radio in anyone with the pieces of junk we got. Not even my brother, who was trying to get as many agents as possible.”
“Brother?” Barbara asked before she realized who his brother was. Her expression became solemn. She remembered the Warhammer who stayed behind to slow Circe and her crew, giving Barbara a chance to escape with Artemis on her back. “The guy with the Hammer…”
Alexei furrowed his brows, noticing the change in her expression. “What happened to my brother?”
Barbara took a deep breath and began explaining everything that had happened: the White Magician’s true identity, her taking over SCYTHE HQ, her ultimatum to Wonder Girl, and finally, Anatoly Abromivici’s sacrifice to save them.
*************************************************************
Somewhere in Gateway…
With the loss of SCYTHE and their headquarters, the surviving agents didn’t have the necessary support from the intel agents in the Black Room to fight off against the newly revived Red Centipedes, now grown more powerful with the help of the escaped convicts, more than happy to exact revenge.
With the bridges closed off, SCYTHE’s weakened state, and Wonder Woman being presumed dead, the city had been thrown into chaos. Streets filled with criminals and looters taking full advantage of what had happened, stealing anything from everyone across the island.
Red Centipedes roamed the streets with military trucks, taken from SCYTHE after their HQ had fallen to the White Magician’s control, making full use of their hardware to hunt down any surviving agent, delivering the message that they were the new peacekeepers of Gateway.
“Let me go!”
A woman, a worker from Taco Whiz, was being dragged from the streets by a group of RedCent grunts. Taken into a nearby corner, the RedCent dropped the worker on the dirty ground. Their eyes had terrible intentions behind them.
“Come on, man,” one RedCent grunt said from behind to his buddy. “We are supposed to find those SCYTHE fuckers, not mess around.”
“You’re serious?” The buddy looked at his friend like he was crazy. “We’ve been locked for months in SCYTHE’s cells; we can have a few minutes of fun.”
“Please! Don’t do this!” The woman screamed, tears falling from her eyes, afraid of what they would do to her. She tried to stand up and run away but was quickly pushed back down on the pavement.
The RedCent approached the woman, who crawled away from them in fear. “Come on, girl, I just need to release all this stress after being locked up for so long!” He proclaimed, giving the woman a leery look before turning to his buddy. “Hey man, I can share! Maybe we can get someone else from the street-”
The RedCent stopped speaking, catching his breath for a moment after he saw his buddy lying on the ground face first, knocked out cold. Looking up, his eyes widened in shock when he saw the person standing before him. “You’re… you were supposed to be dead?!”
Covered in heavy bandages and wrecked NIGHT armor, and carrying a mace in his hand and a pissed-off look on his face, Commander Hector Hall stood before the RedCent grunt like a dark spectre coming back to life. Kicking the knocked-out buddy aside, the Commander looked between the grunt and the terrified woman before he hardened his glare at the RedCent.
“Stay back!” The RedCent grunt aimed his weapon, hands shaking in fear. “I said stay the fuck back-”
In a moment, Hall moved at such a speed he looked like a blur, cutting the distance between the two. With one swing of his mace, he smacked him squarely on the head, sending him to the ground.
Hall turned to the woman he saved, who looked at him in horror. “Go… get to safety…”
Without another word, the woman ran toward the exit and into the streets, away from the alley. Now alone with the two RedCents, Hall grabbed the knocked-out buddy and woke him up, making the man see the bandaged-up Hall looking down at him with hateful eyes.
“You… I want you to send your boss a message…” Hall began, making him face the Commander. “Tell the White Magician, Circe, that I am declaring war on her and on anyone who stands by her side.” He turned and walked up to the other grunt, who was crawling away from the Commander in fear, grabbing his bleeding head. He begged for his life, but Hall ignored his pleas. “And this, this is for my men that you Centipedes have killed…”
He lifted his bloody mace and brought it down like a hammer on the begging Red Centipede as his buddy looked on in horror. He lifted it up once more to reveal the man’s head was crushed like a watermelon.
Commander Hector Hall was still alive, and as long as he was still breathing, SCYTHE would remain standing to fight against all threats against Gateway City.
*************************************************************

Wonder Women Vol 3.

Previous Issue <> Next Issue

In the last decade, solar power capacity has grown tremendously to become the fastest-growing source of renewable energy in the world.
Solar power directly contributes to the Algeria’s energy security and independence, as well as helping to meet rising electricity demand and CO2 emission reduction goals.
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So I’ve been running a campaign now for around 4ish months. The party is composed of two veteran players of around 5 years each, and 3 brand new players. As such, there are a lot of debates and moments where we have to slow the game down to explain what each player can do, which I’m all for. I’ve been itching to play DnD for a while, and I love helping people get into fantasy in general.
One of my players in particular, though, has been making a ruckus, for lack of a better term. He’s one of the newer players, so there’s been plenty of moments he wants to do something and I have to explain situations in which he can or can’t do something. Again, that’s no problem. The problem stems more from his innate chaotic nature, especially as it relates to other characters. I’m going to give a few situations that I found weird, and I want to know if I’m being an AH in this situation or if this really does sound crazy. I’ll refer to problem player as J for now.
The players are playing in a world in which humans are a primarily dominant race, and not many other races other than elves or dwarves have even been heard of. He’s playing a gnome, and so there’s been multiple NPCs who have talked to his character like he’s a child, or referred to him as such. Another party member (also a gnome) finds this funny, and has played into it a few times to get more info on things the party has done, such as acting like a child to get info from strangers or discounts for things in shops. All fine and dandy, the party plays into it. J, however, finds this incredibly irritating, and oftentimes starts arguments or physical altercations with NPCs who do this. One time, he started a fight to the death with a group of NPCs, and found that to be okay. Since the rest of the party barring one other person didn’t find it frustrating, I let it slide.
Another situation, one of the other party members finds a secret room in which he finds a pretty valuable gem (around 100gp in value). J hears this out of character, and when the party member finds his way back to the group, he starts interrogating him, and asks to make an insight check. I ask why J wants to do this, and he says “I don’t trust him”. I ask him what he’s done to betray his trust, and he says nothing, so I bring up the concept of metagaming. J’s primary out of character reason for interrogating the guy was because he knew about the gem, and he couldn’t separate that from his character. I say, no harm no foul, I’ll just tell people individually if they find things of value from here on, but he should be mindful of what his character knows. In character, J uses the spell “Locate Object” to find objects near him worth more than 50gp. I tell him that the character who reunited with the party has an item worth more than 50gp, and now he begins to interrogate him. This frustrates me, because there’s no reason that I could think of that doesn’t involve his out of game knowledge of the gem, and I’m still a bit frustrated about it because J holds this grudge over the other character 5 sessions later.
Another situation, J and the party are nearing the end of their first dungeon. As magic isn’t common in the world I’ve made, I wanted to include a decent amount of magical items for them to find near the end. The party works together and finds these magic items, which include 1 magical ring, 2 magical amulets, 2 magical cloaks, and 3 +1 magical weapons (I know it’s a lot, but this dungeon also took 3 sessions to complete). Upon my announcing of these items, J’s character grabs every single item, stuffs them into his Sack of Holding, and says “We’ll talk about trading later.” I ask him why he doesn’t want to give anything to any of the other players, and he just says that he got to them first. Keep in mind, his character is a bard, so while he could use them, I find that some of the items were tailored more towards the barbarian, rogue, and warlock of the party. He has yet to give any of these items up, and has “Raised the price” of the items due to some statements other characters have made about the incident.
This is all in game, of course, but there have been multiple statements and attempted actions that he wants to take where he has, and I quote, “Tried to make you miserable as a DM”. These includes but are not limited to:

• Stating that attempting to SA’ing a guy who wanted to arm wrestle a party member in a tavern was “totally okay”
• Trying to combo spells in such as way that he could drop a big enemy from 270-ish feet in the air so they take 270d6 falling damage (he found some method online)
• Multiclassing into Artificer (which I’m more than okay with!) for the sake of making a magical, repeating Aquaribus loaded with life-steal dragon shot (calculated to deal 1d8+3d6+1d4 damage by his own account, and he stated should only cost around 1000gp to make)
• A direct quote, “i want to go on a casual genocide run through a small town”
• Keeping half a zombie head around for his “long rests”
• Training a familiar to steal gold and other small valuable items from other party members
• Purposefully fighting and killing multiple NPCs because “that’s what my character would do”
• For lack of a better term, metagaming (he spent a few hours doing everything he could on his character sheet to milk every point of damage he could from every action)
• Has used damaging spells on other player characters when they disagree with him (particularly vicious mockery). He got a party member within 3 hp of going down, and laughed when told this)

I’ve chalked a lot of this up to him being a new player, and have had conversations with him about keeping the game entertaining for all of the party members, which is where I became super conflicted. Most of the party seems to find it fine, which is why I’m conflicted on if I’m right to feel frustrated. On one hand, if the party is okay with this course of action, I’m cool with it. On the other, this seems like it’s quickly becoming a murder- hobo party, which I’m not sure that I want to DM for. I’ve spent 2 years writing and creating this world, its inhabitants, its NPCs, and to see it approached in this way frustrates me. Which is another reason why I think I may just be overreacting, as I’m very attached to what I’ve created.
Is this something I’m overreacting to? Or is this a genuine problem, and what can I do to fix it? I’ve spoken to them a few times, but it only seems to work for a session. If I was to ask him to leave, then every other player would probably also leave, which makes me even more hesitant to do anything.

This isn't anything crazy compared to the other posts here, and I'll probably delete this so I don't dox myself.
I had the opportunity to go to my dream school a few years back, but I turned it down. It would have cost me $350,000+ to attend. Normally financial aid policies are in place so that no one has to take out massive loans, but my parents are pretty rich ($1M~/year salary) and colleges assume at that point that the parents are going to pick up the tab. We had that conversation growing up and they vaguely promised that finances would never be a factor in where I go to college.
But my parents are self-made and also don't know what they're doing with money. They never invest, overspend on cars, donate a ton to relatives abroad, spend a lot on charity (mostly for their own clout, not because they give a shit about helping the poor) and do a bunch of shit that kind of made me feel like I wasn't a priority in their lives. Which is fine, because it's their money and they can do whatever they want. I figured the one thing that they'd give me was a chance to go to my dream school because they borderline abused me about academics growing up and it was literally the one thing I had going for me.
For a bunch of reasons really, they flaked at the last minute. Suddenly they claimed that the education at my local regional college (no one outside of the state has ever heard of this place unless they know someone going there) was on par with the Ivies and the opportunities would be exactly the same for one-third of the price. My aunt had told them about this one program they have in my field, and they kind of got brainwashed into thinking that it's this hidden golden ticket and that I'd be set if I go there. It didn't help that my sibling was jealous and did everything he could to convince them that I'd crack under the pressure if I went somewhere competitive.
They also have this big ego problem. Basically I was asking my cousins at the time where I should attend school (my dream school vs. this random ass college) and they all unanimously told me that I'd be an idiot for turning down the dream school if I had the money. My dad especially didn't like that I was favoring my cousins' advice over his, and he pretty much cracked down after that.
Years later, I figured that by now I would move on but I've gotten more and more depressed and borderline suicidal. The social scene at my school sucks. There are no sports and I don't fit in with the culture on campus. It's not intellectual and frankly half the people I've met shouldn't even be in college at all. I came to school with the expectation of challenging myself yet this place is two or three steps down from high school. I have a few "friends" there (most of them feel fake) but only two or three that care enough to check on me over the summers.
I'm seeing my old friends go to good schools and while I feel happy seeing them make the most of that chance, I also just feel like a complete failure. I still remember when high school was wrapping up and everyone was asking me where I'm going to college, and everyone was fucking disappointed in me. I'd literally cry as I'd drive back home half the days. My parents are remorseful but now they're giving me bullshit like, "Oh, just go somewhere prestigious for medical/grad school!" As if that's easy to do when you're going to a shitty college with zero opportunities. They think graduate admissions are just about who has the highest GPA and test scores and will call me an idiot and naive if I say otherwise.
Like I'm studying for the MCAT and I scored pretty high on my first practice test. My dad was like, "You should aim for a 525 [out of 528] on the real deal." That's a 100th percentile score. I'm not getting that. He's just saying that shit because it's a lofty goal that he knows I'll never reach, so he has an excuse to be disappointed in me down the road.
I don't know, I just feel like I got completely robbed by my parents. On one hand, it makes me feel spoiled because college is hella expensive, and I should be grateful that they're paying for the local school that I attend now. But I didn't even get to explore half the careers that interested me (Quant, IB, higher-end SWE jobs) because my resume would get trashed immediately. I could have been completely independent within a couple years but instead "I" picked medicine (it's my favorite field, but my parents are salty that they aren't doctors and now want me to be one), and I probably won't be financially stable until I'm well into my 30s. And wherever I go, I see some statistic about how Ivy graduates are so much better off than state school students or something. I just want to feel proud of myself for something but there isn't anything.

I have long held a deep-seated hatred for Lawtubers. I'm not talking about lawyers on social media generally. I'm talking specifically about those losers who graduated from a podunk law school, with no academic accolades at all, couldn't get hired at even a shitty law firm, and spent their career doing shitlaw (if any law at all) before going on YouTube to live stream and pretend like they're legal experts. They give us actual, practicing lawyers a bad name and they have committed the grave sin of making me want to blow my brains out any time I happen to unwitting find myself listening to them speak.
The star of this post is Good Lawgic. I made a previous post about how these morons manage to get law degrees (now deleted because I do an auto-prune of my Reddit history every few months to deal with other schizos), but the reason I'm making this post is his latest grift: https://www.givesendgo.com/UngagTrump
For those who haven't been following along the countless Trump lawsuits, in the NY "I paid to cover up having sex with a porn star" lawsuit, the judge issued a gag order preventing Trump from being himself and saying his usual unhinged shit about jurors and the family members of the judge/court staff/etc.
Good Lawgic, who regularly covers this kind of shit, must have finally saw an opportunity to make a buck "practicing law" because he started a crowdfund for himself to file an appeal to overturn the gag order on the grounds that it is unconstitutional. The wonderful thing? He links his petition! It's here: https://acrobat.adobe.com/id/urn:aaid:sc:us:6d741966-3725-45b3-b46d-feb3e3ba4f88
I gotta say, I was excited. I can finally read him write! If you guys don't know, lawyers don't debate for a living. You can't tell how good a lawyer is based on online debate performance (for a number of reasons I won't get into here). We write for a living. Seeing a lawyer's writing is really the only way to truly assess their competence. Here, he has done the kindness of displaying his incompetence for everyone to see. I won't go through all of the grammatical mistakes because there's so fucking many of them. He should've at least asked ChatGPT to fix his grammar. Shit, he should've asked ChatGPT to write the whole brief instead.
Those of you who aren't lawyers might think that this looks okay. But hopefully by the end of this post, I'll have successfully convinced you that Good Lawgic is a grifting, incompetent loser.

The Legal Standard

He doesn't state it. Lol. Lmao, even.
I'll elaborate. The "meat" of this document is on pages 5 to 19, or the "Memorandum of Law in Support of Temporary Restraining Order". This is basically the legal argument portion.
Now, if you're going to ask for a TRO, or literally anything from a court, at least start by stating the relevant legal standard. What do you need to prove to be granted a TRO? I don't practice in NY state law (federal court gigachad here btw), so based on a quick google search, in NY, it's this: https://casetext.com/regulation/new-york-codes-rules-and-regulations/title-22-judiciary/subtitle-a-judicial-administration/chapter-ii-uniform-rules-for-the-new-york-state-trial-courts/part-202-uniform-civil-rules-for-the-supreme-court-and-the-county-court/section-2028-e-temporary-restraining-orders
Nowhere in Good Lawgic's "Memorandum of Law" does he even recite this standard, much less explain why it's met. In a brief, after stating the relevant legal standard(s), you need to argue, with facts and/or precedent, why that standard is met or not met (depending on what nets you a win). Do you know how you do this analysis? With citations. Citations to the factual record are necessary for factual assertions, and citations to precedential cases are necessary for explaining why your position is legally correct. They must also be easily discoverable by whoever is reading your brief. For comparison, read this ACLU brief, also written in favor of lifting a gag order on Trump (though in a different case and written as an amicus brief, which is radically different from a TRO petition): https://www.aclu.org/cases/united-states-v-trump-amicus-brief?document=Proposed-Brief-Amici-Curiae-of-the-ACLU-%26-ACLU-DC-in-Aid-of-the-Courts-Re-evaluation-of-its-Gag-Order#legal-documents
In the ACLU brief, these actual, practicing lawyers cite almost every line. As they should. Seriously, pick a random page, and you'll see that to the extent possible, every statement, assertion, and argument is supported by some citation. The reality is, Good Lawgic didn't write a brief. He wrote an editorial full of conclusory statements and sophistry. His "Memorandum of Law" belongs on Breitbart, and he obviously has no idea how to write an actual legal argument for a court. There's nothing legal about his petition. He just says shit without citations. It's a Memorandum of Feels and Vibes. This is how a "NY litigator of 25 years" writes? Are you kidding me?
Oh, wait, his entire work experience is (checks LinkedIn) debt collection.

The Grift

The reality is, even as stupid as he is (seriously, the grammatical errors, oh my god), he knows this brief isn't winning. It's going to be immediately slapped down because it's asinine. But you know what? He's grifted at least 26k from Trumptards so far, and after his petition gets summarily eviscerated, it's going to be further evidence of the ~corruption of the NY courts and the liberal conspiracy against Trump~. The sad reality is he feels free to proudly link his dogshit petition because he knows his followers and donators are illiterate. But you know what? I'm glad he linked it. Because I get to read this hilarious affirmation made under penalty of perjury: "We need to freely access Trump."

Genuinely, I was concerned about Amanda the whole time. From the moment I picked her up, she seemed annoyed and uninterested. I knew she was tired and needed food, but even when we went out, she was closed off and disengaged. By the time we saw my friend Blaise at work, she was checking her bf Jackson’s location, thinking he was lying to her. He didn’t answer her call, so I figured that would be on her mind the rest of the night annoying her. I tried to distract her, get her to dance, and asked Caroline to help get her out of her head. I asked Alicia about her because she was hardly engaging with me. I thought she was on the phone with Jackson when I didn’t see her. I wish she had used her words to express how she was feeling instead of her demeanor. If she wanted to leave, I would have agreed. Her mood was infectious, and being mad at me for not focusing on her was outrageous. We were supposed to be celebrating my graduation, but she made herself the center of attention because she didn’t advocate for her needs and got mad at me for it. I’m sad that she’s blaming having a bad night on me when I was trying to be the energy to help lift her mood.
I wanted to go to Southside because Cade and his sister Cassie were there and excited to see Amanda. I figured she would appreciate seeing friendly faces, but she didn’t care to see them and had a bad attitude when it was supposed to be a fun night for all of us. Cade and Cassie love her, so I talked to them when she didn’t.
I was very hurt by her words and how she avoided everyone all day. Even after I graduated, she barely spoke to me. Mom also told me she wasn’t even present at the ceremony, she left. No wonder I felt anxious instead of happy at my own graduation. I wanted to spend time with her, but she didn’t seem to want to or talk to me. I didn’t push her, thinking she could come to me when she was ready. I can’t be responsible for her happiness or read her mind if she doesn’t communicate. I’m not used to having to prod people for answers. Of course, I cried for hours after she left; my heart was broken.
I only went out on Saturday because Alicia said I should enjoy my last night there. I didn’t want to just leave them at my house. Amanda said she was going to nap, and Alicia said she’d relax and get ready to leave. I was encouraged to enjoy myself but promised to come back when the ride was arriving. I did so to make sure they got their ride, and if they didn’t show, I would have driven them to the airport myself. I wanted to say goodbye and thank them for supporting me on an important day. I suppose I shouldn’t have come back; maybe that blow-up could have been avoided. But wouldn’t it have been mean not to come back when I said I would, even if Amanda hardly spoke to me all day? I don’t even remember how her yelling started. I just remember her being mean, which wasn’t surprising. I hoped she would talk to me, but yelling and threatening me is more common with her than it should be. I remember snippets, her lunging at me, and me bawling my eyes out. I stand by what I said: why would I want a friend who threatens to punch me?
This isn’t the first time she made me think she would hurt me physically. She threatened me during our road trip around four years ago. After saying awful things and accusing me of sleeping with the Europeans in the tents next to us. I didn’t want to sleep next to her after that, so I snuck into the tent after she went to sleep and cried, sleeping as close to the edge of the tent as I could. Her blow-up was disproportionate to what she perceived happened both times.
If she sees me as spoiled, so be it. Many people have it better than me and many worse. If I didn’t have the support and love from my family, she wouldn’t either. I’ve been fortunate, and I wish I could change her circumstances. Saying she didn’t recognize me? I’m glad she doesn’t. Moving away has helped me grow. I was timid for years, catering to her and letting her be the center of attention. I’ve since become a strong, confident woman, living my life the way I want, unafraid to take space in the world. I feel mentally well and happy with who I am, which took time. I’ve enjoyed college and made new friendships. This “new me” is a better me—extroverted, kind, loved, and respected.
It was my graduation weekend, and it was known we would go out, and I would say goodbye to my friends. I’ve made a lot, so I was constantly distracted. If that makes me a party girl, so be it. I can party and be responsible. She can’t put me down for that when I haven’t done anything worse than she has. It feels like as soon as she gets sober, she looks down on people who don’t choose to be. So what if I was a little drunk? I have every right to be. We might’ve been out later than expected, but most people wouldn’t hold that against someone if they didn’t speak up about wanting to leave. Telling me you want to sit in my car instead of saying, "Hey, I’m not feeling great, let’s go," makes me confused. I shouldn’t have to guess someone’s meaning.
This weekend was going to be a big party, sober or not, as the visit was planned before that. She had visited over spring break, so she knew what it could be like. I can’t change my plans when it was my last chance to see my friends. Considering I’d be back in Washington in a week, I thought it was understood I’d spend time with people other than her and have some drinks to celebrate. I was excited my best friends would meet people I’ve connected with and see the downtown life I’d experienced working at a bar. I spent as much time as I could with my best friends, but I’ve made more friends since, who I had to say goodbye to. I thought celebrating meant helping me have a fun time on my last weekend in a place I didn’t want to leave yet. We weren’t always alone, but that couldn’t have been expected. We’d have alone time when I came home.
In her text on Tuesday, she accused me of needing help for ‘my substance abuse.’ Where she got that from, considering I was responsible and not blacking out (which I’ve never done), I have no idea. I guess I’m not allowed to drink when I’m celebrating or any other time. She’s really reaching, especially given her experiences versus mine. I’ve never judged her for getting as drunk as she gets. When I visited in January, I was happy to drive and be responsible, letting my friends get as drunk as they wanted. No judgment. It’s a problem when I drink but fine when she does when she’s off the wagon? She didn’t have a good college experience because she was in her interpretation a far bigger ‘party girl.’ Still, no judgment when she had to come home to leave the coke and drinking behind. But she judges me on my graduation weekend. I should’ve been more drunk.
How could she react like that? Blow up because she felt like I hurt her feelings? Valid to her but I had no idea cause she didn’t communicate with me. Well, she really hurt my feelings on the biggest day of my life—intentionally. I know she’s going through a lot, but that’s no reason to yell and threaten someone with violence before even talking to them. She told me to lose her number when I get home. She apologized in her text for threatening me but said she did not respect this ‘new me.’
Chat Gpt analyzed some perspectives for me

Synthesis:

Emotional Dynamics:

Your Efforts and Amanda’s Perceptions: - You actively tried to include Amanda in the celebration and ensure she felt supported, but Amanda perceived these efforts as insufficient or misdirected. This mismatch in perceived support versus actual support attempts created a foundational rift in understanding. - While you saw yourself as balancing multiple responsibilities—celebrating your graduation and ensuring your friends were included—Amanda may have felt that your attention was predominantly elsewhere, leading her to feel neglected and marginalized.

Communication Breakdown:

Expectations and Reality: - Your frustration stemmed from Amanda's lack of direct communication about her needs and feelings. You expected her to verbalize her discomfort, which she did not do, leading to a communication gap. - Amanda might have expected you to recognize her non-verbal cues and prioritize her needs intuitively, which didn't happen. This unmet expectation contributed to her sense of being overlooked and heightened her frustration.
Pre-existing Strain: - The history of tension and previous incidents, such as the road trip confrontation, added layers of complexity to your interactions. This historical context likely amplified the intensity of the current conflict, making both parties more sensitive to perceived slights and misunderstandings. - Your growth and changes since moving away might have created a divergence in how you and Amanda interact and understand each other, contributing to the disconnect.

Different Coping Mechanisms:

Graduation vs. Personal Struggles: - For you, the graduation was a celebratory milestone, an opportunity to reflect on personal growth and achievements. You were in a mindset of joy and festivity, which contrasted sharply with Amanda’s apparent preoccupation with her own struggles. - Amanda, dealing with distrust in her relationship and possibly feelings of inadequacy or stress, might have found it difficult to align her emotional state with the celebratory atmosphere. Her internal conflicts overshadowed her ability to engage positively in the festivities.
Social Dynamics: - You sought solace and enjoyment in social interactions, finding energy and comfort in being around friends and celebrating. This is indicative of an extroverted coping mechanism where external engagement helps manage stress. - Amanda, on the other hand, might have preferred more intimate and focused support. Her withdrawal and negative demeanor suggest she might have needed a quieter, more personal form of reassurance and connection, which she felt was lacking.

Mutual Misunderstanding:

Differing Interpretations of Behavior: - Your interpretation of Amanda’s disengagement as a lack of communication and her failure to advocate for her needs contrasts with her potential view of your actions as neglectful and unsupportive. Each party’s behavior was misunderstood by the other, leading to escalating frustration and hurt feelings. - Amanda’s accusation of substance abuse, while seemingly out of place to you, might have been her way of expressing deeper concerns or projecting her struggles. This misunderstanding highlights a significant gap in how both of you perceive and communicate about sensitive issues.
Emotional Fallout: - Both of you experienced emotional fallout from the events. You felt heartbroken and disappointed by Amanda's reactions and accusations, perceiving them as a betrayal during an important milestone. Amanda, meanwhile, might have felt abandoned and misunderstood, exacerbating her emotional turmoil. - The emotional intensity on both sides indicates that this conflict was more than just a series of misunderstandings but a clash of underlying expectations, communication styles, and emotional needs.

Moving Forward:

Reflection and Communication: - To bridge this gap, both parties would benefit from reflecting on their communication styles and expectations. Understanding that each person has different ways of expressing and perceiving support could help in realigning the friendship dynamics. - Open and honest dialogue about these events, where both can express their feelings and perspectives without judgment, might pave the way for mutual understanding and reconciliation. It’s crucial to acknowledge each other's emotional experiences and work towards a common ground of empathy and support.
Managing Expectations: - Setting clear expectations about support and communication in future interactions could prevent similar conflicts. For instance, agreeing on how to signal distress or need for support in a way that the other person understands can mitigate misinterpretations. - Recognizing and respecting each other’s coping mechanisms and emotional needs, especially during significant events, can help in maintaining a balanced and supportive friendship.
In summary, the conflict between you and Amanda arises from a complex interplay of misaligned expectations, communication breakdowns, and differing emotional needs. Both perspectives are valid, highlighting the importance of empathy, direct communication, and mutual understanding in resolving such conflicts and strengthening the friendship.

Most of my life I had a blood pressure that averaged 80-90 on the top number and 40-60 on the bottom. No symptoms, no problems. I was healthy and active and ate a healthy diet. I still eat healthy, but I am a smoker.
Now here’s where it gets confusing for the doctors. Once my blood pressure started to inch up little by little, I began to have symptoms that seemed to be heart failure. Even had several blood tests show something the heart releases when it’s failing. After 10 years I finally have what is a “normal” blood pressure for most people and I keep having heart failure symptoms.
Every night when I lie down my heart rhythm goes out of whack, heavy breathing and pounding heart after the rhythm straightens out, with heavy sweating. This also happens during the day and has begun causing me to pass out. I actually smashed my face into pavement one day and shattered an eye socket and fractured my forehead and lost a good chunk of cartilage from my nose because I passed out and went over like a bowling pin. Nausea, vomiting, headaches, dizziness, extreme fatigue, what I call hot flashes (though I’m much too young and am not in menopause), My vision changes from day to day. I have been wearing glasses my whole life and now sometimes they work and other times I see better without them. Especially up close. My abdomen and legs stay so swollen I can barely eat or walk due to the pain.
My primary care doctor noticed my blood pressure was changing. But she knew I needed the water pills until I could see a cardiologist. She did caution me and told me to only take them every 3 days because I tend to have low blood pressure and water pills lower blood pressure. It was a concern. Well, I immediately felt about 50% better. Both the frequency and severity of my symptoms decreased.
My cardiologist said this:
Why would she put you on water pills?
Me: well because of how swollen I am with water retention.
Him: well you probably have (condition in my legs where the vessels stretch and blood flow gets messed up or stops) we will do the procedures for that. As for the water retention, your heart isn’t strong enough to pull the water out of your system the way it should. But there is absolutely nothing wrong with your heart
Me: that makes no sense (has ultrasound and confirms vessel condition in legs and has 4 procedures done) cardiologist releases me and says I should be fine now. No change including in leg swelling.
My primary then represcribes the water pills and adds a beta blocker. Diagnosis: high blood pressure. Frequency of symptoms reduced by 60%. Severity of symptoms reduced by 80%. Haven’t passed out since or had dizziness or nausea and vomiting. Headaches have been minimal. Eyesight is still a bit wonky.
Primary care doctor moves to another state. New primary care doctor thinks I and my previous doctor are insane and that my “normal” blood pressure is fine and my other symptoms are my imagination. Now I’ve been without meds for an entire month and I’m worried.
Are there ANY studies or doctors who have experience with a person whose normal blood pressure is low and high blood pressure reads as normal? I’m desperate at this point. I’m way too young to die of a heart attack or stroke and leave behind 3 kids without a mom. I’m only 44.
Edit. About 3 years ago I suddenly found that everything I ate or drank, even water, was like eating straight salt. I now can’t stand the taste of salt and can’t have it in any of my food. I lost 60 lbs in 8 weeks without changing anything. I have an extremely healthy diet, am very active (I teach 3rd grade, am a trauma recovery coach, and walk 3 miles with my daughter 3 times a week), I’m a light smoker (5-8 a day), not diabetic, healthy checkups, normal cholesterol and all that. The only thing I’ve ever had an issue with was my thyroid. I had 7 rapidly growing nodules that eventually stopped growing but haven’t been checked in 3 years since the radiologist said it was no longer necessary. All nodules were looked at through sonogram or ultrasound and biopsies every 2 years for 15 years. No kidney issues that I’m aware of. And NO the cardiologist and other doctors have NOT done ANY tests other than blood and CT scans to check my heart. They refuse. Yes I have good insurance. Family history includes mitral valve failure, mitral regurgitation, and non specific heart attack. Without the water pills I weigh about 240 lbs, with them I stay around 170.

So I (32F) and my brother (45 M) had a tiff the other day. Some background to explain:
About a year ago, my husband and I got evicted from our home. We were paying rent like we were meant to, but the landlord got angry at us when I called her out on making us overpay for utilities (we were paying her's as well as ours, and when I found out, I was livid.) Shortly after, we were all made to leave the home as I had no solid proof to back us up. I had 3 kids + 1 stepchild at the time. The step child lived with her mom, so no change for her, but we were struggling to find a new place to rent. We are in fact still struggling, and all we've been able to afford in that time is a one bedroom apartment. My oldest two children are teenagers, and I had had a baby with my husband just a few months prior to the eviction notice.
Now, because of the limited space, and laws in my state, my eldest two children were required to stay elsewhere. Namely, with my brother. He offered, and I thanked him profusely for his generosity and have done everything I can to continue making my appreciation known. I am working and so is my husband. But even with both of us working, we are still having a hard time finding something bigger that is sustainable. I have seen how this sudden separation has affected my elder children, and I don't want to ever put them through this again. So I have been looking with the intention that it has to be in our budget long term, and affordable even if one of us lost their jobs. I refuse to put my kids through this hell again.
One of the places I have been consistently bugging about an available rental has finally gotten back to me with a big enough place, and below what our "safety" budget is. I am only waiting on them to finish their inspection/refurbish of the place, and then we can move in. We have put back tax money to make sure this move is doable as soon as they are done.
I am again pregnant (not on purpose, I was supposed to have had my tubes tied but I guess it didn't take properly according to my obgyn.) I was more than a little upset to find out, but I am not someone who would abort a child just because they weren't on purpose. My husband and I have decided to make this work as best we can, and we will still be moving to the same place as soon as we can, with minor adjustments to include the new little one. I was also briefly unemployed (a grand total of 2 weeks) and have just started a new job in the last few days which I think will be better for us in the long run anyway.
All this to say, my brother texted me about my son a few days ago. I have been picking him up from school and taking him to my brother's house afterwards every day. This is because my brother lives outside of the school district for my son's high school, and while my brothers children can take him, they often have after school things and my son wants to go "home" and do his homework straight after. Not a big deal. Sometimes my son calls me and tells me that he is getting a ride home with a friend, or his gf, and that's fine too. He's about to be a senior, so I don't mind the commute simply because he shouldn't be made to switch schools just because we failed to provide properly. Our car (we currently only have 1, and are looking to trade it for a van because we're going to need one), broke down randomly. It's 20ish years old, so this isn't entirely unexpected, just super inconvenient while we wait for the parts to come in to fix it. I told my son that if he needed me to come get him, that was fine, but that while we waited for the parts to come in, if he had someone else who could take him to my brother's house for the time being, that would be helpful for now.
At no point did I say I wouldn't come get him, or that he had to ask for a ride daily, or anything of the sort. I made sure he was aware I was still willing to come get him whenever, but that it would help keep the car from breaking down faster if he had a different way ( which he usually does anyway.)
This apparently trigger big brother. And he sent me a couple of messages asking why I was making my child "beg for a ride home" when I could have just let him know if our car was messed up so he could make other arrangements for my son to get there. I explained as succinctly as I could what I had told my son, and that he usually has a ride home that isn't me anyway, so I didn't think it would be a big issue. Nor did I tell him he absolutely had to go with someone else, but that if he had a different way that it would be helpful for the time being. My brother told me I should have discussed it with him instead, and not with my son. He said I was making him feel unloved and excluded, especially considering my pregnancy and the fact that I had another smaller child who I was "replacing" my elder two children with. (that's not a thing, and I have spoken to both of my children several times, and keep them in the loop on all the things happening while we wait for the house.)
There have been several instances where my brother and I have butted heads as far as the kids go, because he tells them to ask me if they can do x, y, or z, and when I answer as I normally would as their mom, and it doesn't align with that he thinks is correct, he then sends me passive aggressive messages and says that I need to consult him first. At first I thought this was a communication break-down between myself and kids, and they were leaving part of it out (the part where bro wanted me to consult him specifically,) but after checking their messages, that's not it at all. He literally tells them to ask me, and when I don't reply as he thinks I should, I get the messages that I mentioned before.
Now on the call he made, he went on for about 30 minutes, screaming at me and telling me I wasn't a good mother, and that I hadn't done anything for my children since they went to stay with him. I told him if he wanted money, I would send money, but that I wasn't trying to exclude my kids from anything, and I was still trying to find a place that was sustainable, and where I was waiting on the house. He knew these things already. He said he didn't want my money, just for me to make more of an effort to spend time with my kids. My eldest daughter also usually rides home with me from a different school. I have offered multiple times for both kids to come over to the apartment, or to come on day trips with us to places. They keep saying they have plans. Even when I specifically ask them to not make plans so I can see them, it ends up happening anyway. I don't dispute this because I don't feel I'm currently in a position to do so, and because teenagers are well.. teenagers. They have their own lives to lead in some respects and hanging out with mom isn't cool anymore, even when I miss them like mad.
I tried explaining all this to my brother but he was having none of it. I ended up parked under an overpass, crying my eyes out, to the point my husband was telling me to hang up because of the amount of stress it was causing me.
to be clear, I know I am failing as a mother right now, but there's nothing anyone else can say that I haven't said to myself, and have probably said even worse.
After a few more minutes of the non-stop berating I was getting, I yelled that as soon as I got my kids home we were completely done and he wouldn't have to worry about seeing the other kids ever again.
I feel i may have overreacted, though my husband says I didn't react enough. I don't know. I think hormones got the best of me, along with the stress of everything. Now my brother is back to being silent (which isn't new) and I feel even worse than when he was yelling at me.
​
AITHA? Did I overstep and overreact considering the fact that he's doing me such a huge favor by keeping my kids safe while I try to stand on my feet again?
​

Admitting we have a problem is the first step in solving it! Author is a Eugenean talking about her experience with rising crime in the city, never saw this story but hey, still relevant today. Found this little gem by random chance. Title is a hopefully relatable quote from the article. You can agree or disagree with the author, but it's actually pretty well written with sources included. (just including the whole article, for people who don't want to click links!)

I Caught Two Men Stealing From My Home. The Aftermath Was Absurd—and All Too Typical.

This experience crystallized Oregon’s deeper problems.

BY REBECCA SCHUMANJUNE 21, 20225:40 AM
Typically, guys wearing power-company vests don’t leave the houses they’re working on laden down with backpacks—let alone power tools, a scooter, and a Nintendo Switch. But that was the scene I happened upon at 6:30 p.m. on a Tuesday in mid-April when I puttered into my driveway in Eugene, Oregon, my 7-year-old ensconced in the back seat.
For a second, my brain tried to normalize the incident: This is just my daughter’s dad stopping by—except there are two of him, and they’re dressed as electricians for some reason? Then, a second later, everything whooshed into place: Oh, wait, I’m being robbed. Or, rather, I was being burgled. I would get reminded of this distinction later, when I made the dubious choice to join the chorus of aggrieved buttinskies on Nextdoor, where my well-meaning post to warn the neighborhood would turn me into an accidental vigilante hero for a day.
Unfortunately, it’s true: My reaction to this burgle was the lived-out fantasy of many who have been on the business end of a property crime. As the two goons took off on foot down my street, I went into fight-or-flight mode—and I chose fight.
“Well,” I said to my confused child, “let’s go see if we can get our stuff back.”
I peeled my 2005 Subaru back onto the street and easily overtook my two targets, who then hurtled themselves into an alley, whereupon I cornered one by the driver’s side window as the other made haste across the adjacent parking lot.
“Just give it back, bro!” I yelled out my window. “Just give it back! I’m a single mom! Just give it back.”
I repeated this until either I reminded him too much of his meanest teacher or he realized he’d been caught in broad daylight. “Fine,” he said. “Just fucking take it.”
He shoved a backpack through my driver’s side window. Inside it was both my laptops and my daughter’s iPad from school. Back at home, I would discover these guys had used channel lock pliers to force open the back door, but that the general chaos of my home had prevented them from locating my passport, jewelry, or sole item of irreplaceable value: the Montblanc fountain pen that my father, who died in a bicycle accident two years ago, had gotten for his law school graduation. My cat was unfazed.
I can honestly tell you that this little caper of mine was thrilling and deeply satisfying. It was also the exact wrong thing to do. Even this fanatical open-carry gun website implores: “Don’t chase criminals.” What if these two dipsticks had been armed? As unlikely as that was—property crime in my town is often driven by addiction, and weapons are worth money, which can buy drugs—I put myself and my child in potential danger. And for what? Three grand worth of electronics. As any reputable expert will tell you, you’re never to give chase to a thief, because human life is not worth possessions. As much as I admit to enjoying being called a “badass” by everyone I told this story, plus the listeners of KLCC Oregon, I should not have done this.
I did call the police, on the nonemergency line, because the dudes were long gone and nobody was hurt. I declined the dispatcher’s offer to send two officers to fingerprint a bunch of stuff I’d already touched. At best, that would have just added two more sets of prints to my town’s burgeoning roster of perennially at-large property criminals.
There are larger issues here, issues much more important than my would-be cool story. First, it’s an example of how in Eugene, small-scale property crime is now de facto legal. It is largely nonviolent, so it’s rarely seen as worth police resources to track down the goods. At the same time, it is so prevalent that any time one vest-wearing bozo gets nabbed, three more spring up in his place. This was my house’s second break-in in six months, and my fourth property crime total in the three years I’ve lived here as an adult. Eugene is my hometown, so I can also add the four times my childhood house, where my mother still lives, has been burgled since the early 2000s. When I was little, we left our front door unlocked so regularly that I wasn’t aware front doors had locks on them until I was much older. By the time I turned 30, however, every door in my parents’ house had been pried open at least once. (“Time to finally get that alarm system!” said my dad for three straight decades.)
Still, it’s a mistake to treat this trend solely as a vexing crime problem. Eugene’s descent into its property crime epidemic has been concurrent, unsurprisingly, with two addiction epidemics: First, the methamphetamine nightmare of the 1990s—when pseudoephedrine pills were still unregulated—hit Oregon and other Western states particularly hard. That wave segued all too naturally into the opioid and fentanyl crisis of the present. Meanwhile, not only did meth never really leave, but its use in Oregon also surged with the pandemic, with three Oregonians per day currently dying a drug-related death.
Since our conversation was necessarily brief, I don’t know the housing or drug situation of the guys who broke into my place. But local statistics point to them as two more casualties of these plagues. (Granted, those statistics are from nearby Portland, and they are police-sourced, so take them how you wish.)
For all the ambivalent empathy that the opioid epidemic has engendered, the local property crime scourge has set off a fierce public backlash. My incident brought out an unsurprising chorus of bloodlust on Nextdoor and elsewhere, when I shared it because I wanted to give my immediate neighbors a heads-up: “You should have kicked their asses,” they wrote. “We need to rise up and defend our property.”
This town’s petty crime is often attributed, at least in the national conservative press, to our West Coast government’s decision to temporarily allow urban camping during the pandemic. (That policy has now officially ended, for what it’s worth.) Towns like mine have often been characterized in the popular imagination as unlivable crime-addled hellholes. I will be the first to admit that our tent cities are sometimes blatant open-air drug markets, but this is the case even as our property values inflate to absurd proportions—and our crime is actually on the decline. Still, Oregonians like me currently have about a 2.7 percent chance of being burgled, which, at almost 30 percent higher than the national average, is very high. I learned very efficiently how anecdotes like mine get around (I can’t help it if I’m a dynamic storyteller!) and attract the righteous indignation of other former victims, so many often feel, incorrectly, like we few honest vanguards are awash in a sea of riffraff.
This atmosphere, in turn, inspires my locality’s equally unreasonable political extremists to put forth and exacerbate their own untenable solutions. Even in a hyperpolarized American environment, Oregon is more polarized than most. For decades, our liberal enclaves have made Portlandia look understated, while our conservative areas make Texas’ look progressive.
For example, during the heyday of Eugene’s recently dismantled and infamous Washington Jefferson Park tent city, a larger break-in at a bicycle store was traced at least partially back to the encampment. The police swept the tents and made a flurry of arrests. Some of the bikes were found. This resulted in part in outrage over using resources to hassle the city’s most impoverished residents: “A stolen bike, yes, that sucks,” an advocate for the unhoused told a local news outlet. “But what are your priorities? And I’m sorry, but a stolen bike isn’t the priority.”
Well, trust me, in this town, it definitely isn’t. Recovering those bikes was an anomaly; in Eugene, most of these burglaries go unsolved. In fact, 87 percent of burglaries in the whole country do, too. The get-tough-on-property-crime proponents assert that statistically, this sends a message that stealing is fair game, and sure, that is a message I do not condone. But I also agree with a somewhat less rabid version of the opposing view: Property is replaceable, these crimes are nonviolent, and everyone currently rifling through houses and dealing drugs out of tents in my town is human. They deserve a chance to get their lives on track.
So, what should be the town’s priority? Fixing the addiction epidemics is a perilously long way away from happening, for reasons that are as polarizing as addiction’s consequences. In the sobering and excellent Dopesick, author Beth Macy goes into painfully exacting detail about opioids’ near-inescapable hold on the human brain. Macy argues that the true way out of this epidemic is “low-barrier treatment,” which includes supportive housing and medical interventions such as safe injection supplies, fentanyl testing strips, buprenorphine access, and supervised consumption sites. All of these options, however, are a tough sell even in a “progressive” town like Eugene, where supervised consumption sites are what NIMBY nightmares are made of, and low-barrier treatment can run up against deeply held moral stigma: Gas is $5 a gallon, and my taxes are going to some junkie?
In the meantime, while some admirably advocate and vote and wait for those breakthroughs, what should we do about the burglaries themselves? Should we pursue more law enforcement, or more compassion toward the burglars? More arrests that allegedly might deter this, or policies that might alleviate income inequality? Does—as approximately 83 percent of the suggestions from my Nextdoor thread contended—every house in town need a tripwire that handcuffs trespassers on sight? Or should all businesses be taxed at 500 percent, and the proceeds used to furnish every fentanyl dealer in town with a nice apartment and mad cash? The debate has degenerated such that these are the sorts of cartoonish positions each side believes they’re fighting—and, in fact, are the only available choices. Just check out Eugene’s Reddit section any day, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.
The actual blight on small American towns like mine isn’t property crime. It’s that any tenable solution to it has been swallowed up into a churning abyss of extremism and perceived counterextremism. No one seems to have a convincing answer to the most basic question: So what should we do? What should I do?
Burglaries don’t have to be largely unsolvable, and more property criminals could be apprehended. But while I don’t want those dudes or any of their buddies to come back to my house, I also don’t want them in an American prison, where their “rehabilitation” will consist largely of learning better ways to commit even bigger crimes when they get out, and their options for alternative forms of acquiring money will be even more limited than they are now. Lacking any meaningful restorative justice program for petty thieves in my town (which would, in turn, necessitate locating and apprehending them), I decided my own problems could be solved, for now, with a padlock on my back gate.
And then, not long after the break-in, a Nintendo Switch appeared on my town’s Craigslist. Its included components and color combination were identical to the set stolen from my house. I debated, briefly, bringing my vigilante justice alter ego Super Annoying out of retirement, answering the ad and showing up to shrill my wrongdoers into returning what was mine. But this time, I thought better of it. My life is not worth much, but it’s probably worth more than Mario Kart. I can only hope the console’s new owners enjoy it as much as my daughter did—at least until someone steals it again.

So I found a seller who has 99.7% feedback. The cologne I want to purchase is Victoria Secret Him Platinum Parfum. It seems like a great deal , 100ml for $59 with tax + shipping. I went in-store today and purchased the 50ml for $66 after tax and was thinking about returning it and paying $7 less for double the ML on ebay.
I asked the seller this question "I was considering purchasing this cologne from your store because it seems like a great deal. However, after doing some research, I found that the Victoria's Secret website clearly states on their FAQ page that they do not sell products at wholesale for resale purposes and do not have partners, distributors, or licensees. Given this information, how can you guarantee that the product you're selling is authentic?" Their response was "hey, we sell all items 100% authentic and brand new, you can check feedback on our account and on this item to. thank you"
What do you guys think? Could this be legit or fake? What information could he provide to guarantee its authentic before I purchase? Batch code perhaps?

So I found a seller who has 99.7% feedback. The cologne I want to purchase is Victoria Secret Him Platinum Parfum. It seems like a great deal , 100ml for $59 with tax + shipping. I went in-store today and purchased the 50ml for $66 after tax and was thinking about returning it and paying $7 less for double the ML on ebay.
I asked the seller this question "I was considering purchasing this cologne from your store because it seems like a great deal. However, after doing some research, I found that the Victoria's Secret website clearly states on their FAQ page that they do not sell products at wholesale for resale purposes and do not have partners, distributors, or licensees. Given this information, how can you guarantee that the product you're selling is authentic?" Their response was "hey, we sell all items 100% authentic and brand new, you can check feedback on our account and on this item to. thank you"
What do you guys think? Could this be legit or fake? What information could he provide to guarantee its authentic before I purchase? Batch code perhaps?

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

People protest for Palestine for a variety of reasons, often stemming from political, humanitarian, and social justice concerns.
This is a historical moment in all of our history in the United States period there have been countless Protest in our history dating back to when the Constitution of the united statestwas established. From the Boston Tea Party, to Civil rights movement, Gender equality movement,The war in Vietnam Among many other wars that were unjustified till this day. These all wereSignificant and changing the way our country is today and if we sit by and let these things occur we are only supporting and watching people die with our tax dollars. I don't want blood on my hands butIt's just me if you feel that this is unjustified propagandaWhich is being ignored by our government then stand up with me stand up CHICO! We will be protesting we will not give up we will not stop, If they wanna arrest me for speaking the truth proof in a peaceful manner thenBelong in jail but I am not the only person Who feels this way there is a list ofHundreds of people that would take my place and hundreds more after that if needed they can't make enough jails for us all, so please don't fear your god-given civil rights, Let's stand up and make our voices heard.
Why should you protest this is some very basic Knowledge that is already Made public for anyone to be able to view using online resources or the freedom of information act, videos online which are not altered. The date and time of the protest is soon. Prepare yourself, If you're worried about your identity be exposed you can wear anything to cover your face from scraf to covid mask, anything your imagination can come up with, but don't be scared, that is the biggest Factor that the government is relying to prevent further protest and policy changes. Anyone who may be arrested harmed or needing any treatment we'll be fully compensated and bailed out at no cost to any protester. You will have a attorney provided to you and will be released within a 24 hour period.
What this protest is about and what it's purpose is.
Humanitarian Concerns: Protest for the humanitarian situation in Palestinian territories, particularly in Gaza, Rafah, among many other refuge camps within occupied Palestine. Civilian casualties and multiple war crimes from genocide, murder, civilan torture, starvation, propaganda, all while the land we walk on USA among Is many other corporations based in the US and abroad are funding and supporting the actions of Israeli government and thier policatical and personal interest. Essentially every time you pay for anything in the United States whether it be food, gas, etc. You are funding the bombs that are killing innocent civilians. Well over 30,000 dead.
Political Stance: Solidarity with the Palestinian cause and oppose policies they view as unjust, such as settlement expansion in the West Bank or the blockade of Gaza
2. Social Justice: Advocate for the rights and self-determination of Palestinians. This aligns with other global movements for equality and against oppression
Response to Specific Events: Certain events, such as conflicts, policy decisions, or actions by certain world primarily USA and Isreal governments, reactions to specific military operations and many illegal political developments.