So I watched Creators in Fashion on Style theory as well as the recent behind the scenes video about it and the one thing that annoyed me was their new brand Lumen. Nothing wrong with the brand itself, but if you just Google the word Lumen, you will get hundreds of results before you ever get to the rebranded theorywear. Luckily you can still just Google theorywear, but the website itself was named Lumen Official. Reminding me of a different content creator, DAGames that did the same frickin thing. DAGames has this original conceptual sci-fi alt-metal project called Iris. Not to be confused with Jacksepticeye's project, or the Goo Goo Dolls song, or the multiple movies, shows, books, or the Integrated Refugee & Immigrant Services that are all named the same the same frickin thing. THERE ARE OTHER PARTS OF THE EYE YOU GUYS!!
I know that nothing under the sun is original, but I'm sure it wouldn't kill you to take two seconds to at least Google if a name has been taken by a billion other people before you add to the pile. I know that Retinas doesn't sound that cool of a band name, but at least it's more unique than Iris. Because if you have to go out of your way to make an apple music profile called "Iris Official", at that point just pick a different name.

The Old Machine

By Angel Arevalo
The first time I saw the old machine was as Benny’s father closed his study door to us. It was already a relic then, a heap of beige plastic from a bygone era. The monitor was a beige box with a screen made of thick glass. It must have weighed a ton. It sat odious on the rectangular beige case that contained its thinking guts. Peripherals included a keyboard, a mouse, and a phone.
The phone was not a flat screened supercomputer the way the phones of today are. It was a simple speaker and receiver, with a rotating dial instead of buttons. Technically it was capable of making calls from a connected landline, but this was not its true purpose. Its true purpose was to make communication between the internet and the old machine possible. It did this through the magic of sound. According to Benny, who heard it from his father, the data from the internet came in the form of audible sound. Once it was called, the phone could be placed on a stand from which the old machine could “hear” the signals and translate them back into binary code.
My imagination stirred at the idea of “hearing” the internet. I could put something tangible to the invisible force that allowed me to watch endless streams of videos, or chat with friends from around the world. Benny probably more than me. He lived with the damn thing. However it was off limits.
As much as we wanted to hear the internet, Benny’s father would not have it. His study was entirely forbidden to us, and on the few occasions when he had allowed us entry to give us a word of sage advice or to admonish us for childish antics, he would use himself as a physical barrier between us and the old machine. His physical language was such that neither Benny or I had ever thought to ask for permission. Neither of us believed he would even consider the idea, and the most likely outcome would be that he would make it all that much harder to do so behind his back.
So we waited. Bided our time. As children, this was all that was afforded to us.
This forced patience paid off.
There came a very unusual day in Benny’s house. Often it was Benny’s mother who was charged with the daily maintenance of the household, but outstanding circumstances meant that she was forced to take the day off. If I remember correctly it was to do with Benny’s grandmother, but that is neither here nor there. The important thing is that Benny’s father had to take over the daily run of the house. Part of that was buying the groceries for that night's dinner, so here was a rare moment where the house and the study would be left completely unattended.
The moment we heard his father’s car leave the driveway, we were on it.
The door to his father’s study, where the old machine was kept, was locked, but we accounted for this. Benny had been practicing opening the locks around his house, and they were all the same make and model. Benny stuck the finer end of a hairpin into the keyhole and opened the lock as quickly as if he had the key.
The door swung open, and perched on the desk, was the old machine, in all its pristine beige glory.
It was a comically frightful thing, that heap of beige plastic. It sat there, decades old at least, and yet the casing showed no sign of yellowing. The screen, which showed that it was turned off, was a yawning black abyss; and the deadly silence of the room was disturbed by something that was not quite tangible, but an almost physical mental pressure, like gentle psychic breathing. The pressure was such that you could feel it in the base of your skull, and much more lightly, around your head and in your ears. It made one feel as if they were in the presence of a great monster, and not, in fact, an old beige box of outdated electronics.
“C’mon,” said Benny, stepping into the room. Evidently I had been stuck in place for some time. Benny on the other hand seemed much less wary than me. He scampered forward, smiling as he pulled back his fathers study chair so he could stand on it and reach the strange phone with its rotating dial.
Not nearly as brave, and suddenly three times more cautious, I stood back as he picked up the phone to “listen” to the internet. Depending on how you view it, the phone was luckily, or rather “unluckily”, in its translation stand, meaning that it was at that time communicating with the internet. Benny’s face twisted uncomfortably before breaking into a giddy smile.
“Ooh!” he said, smiling. “That’s creepy!”
He held it to his ear like that for a minute or so, wrinkling his nose from time to time before smiling again and throwing me a conspiratorial smirk. His giddy enthusiasm, despite the sound being what he called “creepy” seemed to calm me down some. Benny always had a way of doing that to me. Suddenly I was excited. He saw this, and offered me his place on his father’s seat.
“Here,” he said, still smirking. “It’s terrible!”
I took his place on the seat, and picked up the phone. It was heavier than I expected. Heavier than any smart phone I had ever held. It was like picking up the lighter end of an animal’s meaty tail. I felt a sudden hesitation, but Benny was still brimming with joy, goading me to have a listen.
I put the phone to my ear, and heard whispers. Surprised, I let the phone slip out of my hands to clatter to the floor.
They had been quiet whispers, barely audible, but audible they were. The whispers painted a picture for me. A sticky red room. A friend, here but not here. I saw the old machine in a new home, and with a new keeper, a willing thrall.
I think Benny would have laughed at me if he had not also been struck stupid in that same moment. Standing in the doorway of his study was his father.
It is difficult to speak ill of the dead, which is funny, because it’s not like they care, but that’s just the way of things. Benny’s father had always been a kind man. If not a kind man then certainly a dutiful father. He was always there for Benny, always there to give a word of wisdom or a consoling hug, but on occasion there was a glint of something sinister behind his eyes. It appeared sporadically, mostly during conversations with other adults. Somewhere in the middle of a conversation between the tragic loss of a child in another state or several towns over, or in discussing the statistic and calculus of death such as a mass shooting, that furtive sparkle behind his eye would manifest, and he would become, for a fraction of a second, someone else. That spark was there now, and it was aimed at me.
Benny’s father saw that I had the phone in my hand. He saw his boy beside me, and that spark behind his eye turned into a barely controlled flame. There was so much hate there.
“Benjamin,” he said in a deathly calm voice, in a heavily restrained voice. “Please tell me you didn’t let your friend here talk you into picking up that phone.”
“He didn’t, dad, he didn’t,” answered Benny.
“Did you pick up the phone too?”
“Of course not dad,” Benny lied.
Relief washed over his father’s face. He ran past the threshold of the study and knelt down to wrap his arms around his boy. He then looked at me.
“Get out,” he said quietly, nearly on the verge of tears. Then again, louder, “GET OUT!”
I was still too stunned to move, even after the second shout, but then Benny’s father rose– with Benny still in his hands. The menace I felt. I bolted from the study, running past Benny and his father.
I learned from Benny at school the next day that we weren’t allowed to play together anymore. Benny’s father didn’t even want to see me anywhere near him. It was ridiculous. We were neighbors for crying out loud! Benny was my best friend, who else was I going to play with? And for what? But it didn’t matter. Benny’s father had made his decree, and Benny had to abide. At least we still had school. Benny’s father couldn’t dictate who he spoke to there.
Benny and I sulked for that whole school day, unable to enjoy the little time we were going to have together. We sulked like that together at school for ages. And in this way, the strange whispers that we heard in the phone were almost forgotten, overshadowed by our forced separation.
Every day after school I hoped and prayed that my exile from Benny’s home would end, and in a roundabout and terrible way, my prayers were answered.
A year later, Benny was pulled from class, after which he disappeared for a week. His home, which was next to mine, sat dark and empty. For a whole week I heard nothing from him, not any social platform or messaging medium. When I finally did hear from him, it was no longer Benny. It was the shell of a person that had once been a child. It was Benny, aged eons.
The broken shell that had been Benny stumbled into class. He said nothing, and looked at no one. It wasn’t until lunch period that I finally got anything out of him, and when I did, I don’t think I could ever have been ready to hear it.
That day that Benny had been pulled out of class was the day that his mother had been arrested for the murder of his father. She was found in his study, and according to police, was basically mid act. How the police were alerted so quickly as to show up with the crime in progress was never fully revealed to Benny personally, but news coverage afterwards revealed that an anonymous tip had arrived at the police station.
Benny’s mother would stand by her innocence until the very end, but the fact that she was witnessed by police in the middle of committing the act made it indefensible. Her trajectory to the lethal injection room was one of the swiftest the state had ever seen.
It was tragic. Benny was out both parents, and it was all the more tragic because Benny didn’t have any other family. His last grandparent had passed the year prior. He was due to go into foster care, but God bless my parents, because they took him in. Benny got to stay in town, with a family that loved him nearly as much as his own had.
Benny stayed in my life, it was the reverse of what had happened the year prior when his father had found us listening to the internet on the old machine. Now Benny was in my life more than ever, but also not.
Physically he was there. Benny and I shared a room, and we hung out all the time. Mentally, or perhaps even spiritually, Benny just wasn’t with me anymore. His soul was in some godsforsaken elsewhere. His inner self was closed off to me. My mind didn’t have the words or wisdom to say what was wrong, only that despite being around him nearly 24 hours a day, he felt absent.
It wasn’t until later, much later, years later really, when Benny and I were well into our teens that I felt like I saw the real him again. His home, and everything in it, the things that had once been his father’s, were his. He’d never cared much about that. He’d never even mentioned his not exactly meager inheritance beyond the vague idea that he supposed he would move into his old home once he became an adult. Other than that he made no mention of his old home, which sat dim and forgotten next to mine. He hadn’t so much as stepped inside of it since he left for school on the day of the murder.
But one day, on the porch, while the sun was beginning to die on the horizon, Benny asked me if I would go into his old house with him. We were pushing seventeen, and college bound so I supposed at the time that he was seeking a kind of closure. Despite the vast chasm that Benny’s depression had carved between us, I wanted to be there for my best friend, so I agreed to go along with him.
Once we were at his old doorstep, Benny produced a small, unopened, envelope. He tore it open, and produced a key that he used to open the door to his old home. I watched him do this and felt a pang in my heart that was something more than sadness. I didn’t have a name for it. I just knew that it was coming from Benny. The straw that broke the camel’s back was Benny looking behind him to see me, and flashing me the barest hint of a smile that was filled with the same sadness that panged in my chest a moment ago. It was the tiniest crease on the corner of his mouth, but it broke me. That crease was the most genuine thing I’d gotten from him in years.
I wish I had been brave enough to cry, but I swallowed those tears. Drowned out all emotion, because I thought that was what the burgeoning man I wanted to become would have done.
We entered the house, which was dark and smelled awful. There was a rot in there that had settled into the very foundation.
“Augh,” I let out, “what is that?”
“I– Uhm… I don’t now.” That’s what he said, but something told me that he did know. He just didn’t want to say it out loud for some reason.
In my role as supportive best friend, I still hadn’t asked why Benny had wanted to come back here. So I decided to do that then, but as he ascended up the stairs I knew there was only one destination he had in mind. His father’s study. The old machine.
I kept my mouth shut, but I wonder sometimes if maybe I should have started protesting. I wonder if maybe I should have dragged Benny back out the door, kicking and screaming, but those are just what ifs and meaningless regrets. Even if I dragged him out then and there, so what? He would just come back without me. If I had barred him in any way he would just choose a different time and place, and he would be doing it alone. No. I had no choice. It was inevitable. There’s no stopping the inevitable. So I did nothing.
We ascended up the stairs together. The smell of deep seeded rot grew heavier. It was in the stairs, in the walls, in wood and the furniture. Apart from the smell, everything looked normal, as if frozen in time. I could practically envision us running down the hallway playing tag.
That changed in the study.
Benny and I reached the door. Yellow police tape from when this was an active crime scene was still there. The rot was strongest here. Had the site of the murder never been cleaned?
As Benny turned the knob I swallowed back some anxious energy, and stowed it away in the same place that I threw that soul breaking pang in my heart.
Inside we found the desk, the books shelves, his father’s office chair. All of it was as it once was, except that now every inch of it was covered in a film of something that was muddy red. The sticky red room.
There was only one part of the study that was disturbingly clean of the muddy red source of the rot. The old machine.
It sat perched on the desk, slumbering and waiting. It was pristine. Its comically mundane beige casing was clean, and every piece and peripheral like the keyboard and attached phone were in mint condition. It was alien, how clean it was compared to everything else in the room.
Benny took a heavy breath, and stepped forward. He approached the old machine, examining it in the dying light of the sun.
“I’m going to need your help carrying this back home,” he said.
This would have been my second opportunity to say “no”. I should have, but again, why? All it would mean was another trip or two for him on his lonesome, and then I would just be the friend that bailed out on him halfway through something that seemed very important for him. So I said “okay.”
We gathered up the odd ends of the old machine. Benny carried the monitor, and I carried the thinking guts, and between us we shared the weight of the peripherals.
Once we were home, Benny got to work putting the thing back together. He seemed to fly into a manic fugue state. He worked rapidly to put the old machine together, connecting every odd end, beginning to sweat as he did so. His eyes became deranged, and then suddenly, with only the power cord left to plug in, he stopped.
He stared into the black abyss of the old machine’s monitor, and did nothing for a long minute that stretched out into eternity. Benny put the power cord down and shoved it into a box. I didn’t question this. If anything I was relieved. I hadn’t realized it until just then, but as Benny was putting the thing together I had started to feel a deadly pressure building in the back of my skull. I didn’t dare ask why he stopped, worried that I might accidentally reignite his resolve.
Together we chose to forget the old machine. Or so I thought.
The last few months of our senior year passed, and they were the best months I’d had with Benny in a long long while. I think collecting that beige heap of plastic, that old machine, it had brought something to a close for him. Whether it was simple catharsis or something more I’ll never know, but I’ll cherish those last few months for the rest of my life. It was the last I’d ever see of Benny again.
With college came real distance, and although we kept in touch through video and text, we never met in person, the times just never lined up. Benny was his own man, and although it brought a small amount of heartbreak to my parents that their adoptive son never seemed to find the time to visit them, they were more than anything glad to see that he at least seemed to be enjoying life. That was definitely the facade he sold on social media.
It was at the start of my second year at college that I got the first wisp that something was wrong with Benny. He sent me something, a file that I couldn’t open, in a format that I didn’t recognize. I thought it must be some kind of obscure meme, but when I couldn’t decipher it, I got a pit in my stomach and I sent him a brisk “wtf?”
He never replied.
It was the last of anything I would ever get from Benny personally. A few weeks later my parents contacted me to tell me that Benny had killed himself.
What followed was a rapid procession of life. That I somehow managed to continue to turn in my school work for the next week or so, was a fact. That I then used the following fall break to attend Benny’s funeral was also true. Mixed in there was a meeting with a lawyer that let me know that I was the sole inheritor of Benny’s estate. This all happened, and I have a very superficial recollection of it all. But in truth I was half a ghost myself. My body– no –my soul, had gone into a form of catatonia. I became an unchanging statue, a rock in the ever flowing stream of life. Things happened, but they seemed to flow past me in a ceaseless stream of almost memories.
On the last day of the fall semester, in a fit of pique depression, looking for something to occupy the void of my soul, I remembered the message that Benny had sent me. I redoubled my efforts to decipher the unknown file type, and scoured the internet for a decoder or playback device that would be able to read it for me. Eventually I stumbled on the answer. It was a type of sound file. With that information it was surprisingly simple to find an app to play it back.
I brought the file over to my phone, and loaded it into the app, and hit play. What came out were whispers. I dropped my phone like it was made of hot iron. The phone clattered to the floor, but kept playing the whispers, which remained just at the edge of audibility no matter how far away I retreated from them.
When it finished playing I was relieved. I also realized I had understood none of it. Unlike the whispers I had heard in my childhood, these had been unintelligible. I tried them again, but although I could hear something I could make out nothing. But I knew a way that I could. The old machine.
The next opportunity I got, I went home. I went back up to my room to look for the old machine, but of course it wasn’t there. It hadn’t been there for a long time. Benny had taken it with him when he went his own way during college. I had to ask my parents to help me find it, and they directed me to the garage, where boxes of Benny’s old things were piled up. Things he had taken with him and things that he had acquired while he was away at college. The old machine was packed into one of those boxes, with a sticky note on the screen. A phone number, possibly left there by Benny himself.
I took the box up to my old room and got to work putting the old machine back together. Slowly it came alive, and bit by bit I felt that dreadful pressure building in the base of my skull. As I connected the monitor to the thinking guts I felt a spark of awareness, as if I was suddenly in danger or being watched. As I connected the peripherals, the pressure around my skull grew heavier and I began to sweat. The feeling only intensified as I plugged the thing into the power, and it came to a pique when I finally connected the strange phone stand to the internet. It’s alive! Gods of all faith and creed, help me! It’s alive!
I turned it on.
The screen lit up, and I noticed that I’d forgotten to remove the sticky note that had been placed there. I ripped it off and crumpled it in my palm as I watched the old machine finish its startup sequence.
I’m not sure what I expected. I certainly hadn’t expected it to feel so normal, or look so mundane. The operating system was definitely proprietary but other than that it felt no more alien than Windows, or Apple. Navigating it felt as natural as anything.
I found the program that would allow me to interpret the whisper recording on my phone. It was the same one that would normally connect to the internet, except this time instead of letting the translator hear the bulky beige phone, I would put my smartphone up to the translator while the recording played. I did this, and for a few tense moments nothing seemed to happen, and then I noticed that something had been downloaded onto the desktop.
The file was called “Dad(1)” and for a moment I felt like an idiot. The “(1)” appearing after the word “Dad” suggested that a version of this file was already downloaded, and of course it would be, this was probably where Benny had sent me the file from. I checked the now translated file and saw that it was a video. The thumbnail showed a man sitting at his desk.
Benny’s dad.
My hand trembled as it reached for the mouse, and clicked on the video.
The video was a top down perspective of the study, and it started at 100, there was no buildup or context to what was happening on the screen. Benny’s father was skinning himself alive. The footage of it was grainy, and was twice as disturbing for it, because the more skin that Benny’s father peeled off the more grainy red pixels appeared on screen.
It was difficult to tell how much of this Benny’s father was doing of his own volition. Heavily pixelated expressions of agony played on his face. He twisted and squirmed, he writhed in pain and appeared to yell into the ceiling as he striped reels of flesh from his arm, and then his legs, and then his chest, and on and on. I couldn’t look away. As much as I wanted to look away I couldn’t, I was forced to watch by my own horribly morbid fascination. God help me. No. God forgive me. I. could. Not. Look. Away.
It was Benny’s father’s twisted and pained flailing that covered the study in blood, leaving the room red and sticky. How he produced so much blood, and in fact, how he had been able to remain conscious this whole time was a mystery to anyone. The act didn’t stop until a light appeared from offscreen, and then suddenly Benny’s mother barged into the study to see her screaming husband. He tried to skin her alive as well, but she fought back. They began to wrestle each other, slipping in the wet puddle of his blood. Soon the blood itself stopped being the worst thing on display, as the father’s viscera began to spill out of him, the membrane that had held it together inside his abdomen splitting open in the tussle. It was an awful scene, and still, I couldn’t look away.
The fight continued like that for some time. With the two of them on the ground, fighting for control of the knife that the father had used to skin himself alive. Even with half the father spilt and spread around the room it was a hard won victory for Benny’s mother. She finally managed to wrestle the knife away from the dying man, and plunged it into his chest, just as shadows appeared from the direction of the doorway. The mother broke down as police aimed their guns at her, and then the video ended.
“Did you like it?” appeared in text over the end of the video.
“What the fuck?” I remember saying out loud.
Why hadn’t Benny turned this in? I thought. His mom was dead, sure, but why not clear her name? Why hadn’t he told me straight away what he’d found? Why had he– I didn’t let myself ask that last question. Instead I unclenched my palm, and looked at the crumpled sticky note. If there was a logical answer to any of this, then maybe it was on the other end of that number. That’s what I told myself anyway.
I put my phone away, and picked up the phone attached to the old machine. It took a few tries to get the method of dialing correct– I’d never used a rotary style phone before, and I didn’t know how to spin the wheel to “dial” the number that I needed, but I managed it. The phone rang for a bit, and then the whispers started to erupt from whatever black beyond I called.
I placed the phone on the translator, and on the monitor, the desktop came alive. The old machine’s proprietary web browser opened and landed on a bare bones white webpage. It reminded me somewhat of a dark web directory.
The dark web isn’t as difficult to navigate as you might think. The difference between a dark web site and a regular one is that dark web sites are unlisted, meaning they don’t show up on search engines, and often they require special browsers and specific URLs. Those URLs are usually kept on some kind of surface web directory. This looked a lot like that. A list of URLs ran down the bare bones page in a ladder of blue.
They were hyperlinks, all of them, and one of them stood out to me immediately.
“Do you want to see how he did it?” It read.
It shouldn’t have freaked me out. There was no way that link could be talking about Benny, which is where my mind went first. There was simply no way.
So I clicked it. And I guess… there was. Somehow there was a way.
I won’t say what I saw. It wasn’t nearly as graphic as his father’s death. In that sense it wasn’t nearly as “interesting”, but even still I can’t bring myself to recount it. It’s too personal. In that way it was much much worse, so much worse. The look in his eyes… despair. There was something almost beautiful about it.
No.
There was something beautiful about it.
At the end of the video, a familiar message popped up.
“Did you like it?”
A box beneath the video asked for a reply. I typed one in.
“Do you want to see more?”
Another box. Another reply.
I saw more.

I've been wanting to write this post for a while. I want to talk about my experience with the Remarkable 2 at about the four-year mark. I got my Remarkable 2 in the summer of 2020 just as I was starting my PhD. I first bought the Remarkable 2 along with a Kobo device to compare the two. What I noticed immediately—and what my wife noticed immediately when I had her test the devices—was how superior the writing experience felt on the Remarkable 2.
I've purchased other e-ink tablets since then, including a couple Onyx Boox devices (Max Lumi 2 and more recently Tab Mini C), and invariably, despite their seemingly superior hardware and more advanced software, they've fallen short in one way or another to the Remarkable. Even though I've gone through different phases with this device—using it as a daily planner, using the PDF calendars, using it as a journal, and now with Typefolio, using it as a light word processor—I continue to use it every single day because I just love using it. Its longevity is incredible in our modern update culture where every device seems to just be a stop gap before the next one, the "one you've been waiting for."
Don't get me wrong, I've even had some major hiccups with the device. When I first got it, something happened when I first tried to upload my files to their cloud. I think that was the very early days for their cloud storage, and they really didn't get it right at first. I lost some very important research material I needed for work, and I couldn't get them back, so of course I complained to Remarkable. Their customer service wasn't great, and eventually one of the representatives just kind of said, "We're sorry, we're working on improving this." Sure enough, not long after that, later that summer or early fall, they started rolling out some major improvements to the way that sync worked, and I honestly have not had a single problem since. I'm glad I hung on.
Even though I had a frustrating experience, I could tell even then that the development team was pretty committed to iterative but important updates. This is something I really want to stress that I think maybe isn't well represented on this subreddit. It's my personal belief as a fairly long-term power user who uses different E-Ink devices that the Remarkable updates, while iterative, always seem to add something to the experience of using the device in very meaningful ways, at least for me. This is very clear when you compare it to something like a Boox tablet, which, as many people have remarked, is a kind of jack of all trades, master of none.
For instance, Boox's notepad offers so many more features than Remarkable's writing experience (running Boox os 3.5, which, funny enough I struggled to look up on my Tab Mini C because a bug kept switching back to the most recent app until eventually I had to force quit all apps, lol). Just in terms of the sheer amount of features on paper, Boox is so obviously the more "fully featured" device. Yet, for various reasons, including Boox's notorious complexity, I never find myself consistently using any of my Boox devices for writing. I would never keep a daily journal on my Boox, for instance, not only because of the software, of course, but also because at least for me the writing feel is far inferior, although I am experimenting right now with keeping a kind of digital bullet journal on my Boox because of the way you can link notes on Boox devices (Note, you can also do this on SuperNote). Too early to tell if I'll keep it up, but it's not likely.
The Remarkable is often compared to Apple devices, and I think it's pretty clear that's what they're going for in terms of build quality, user experience, simplicity, and the iterative nature of the device (software, but also hardware like the Typefolio). I really think it's an apt comparison for the most part. When I first got this device, it didn't support the snap-in-place highlighting feature, for instance, but when that feature came it was very helpful for my work (which includes reading a lot of pdfs), and I used the device more as a result. Other examples include new gestures like pinch to zoom (March 2021), cloud integrations, tags (June 2022), and of course, 3.0, which brought type support.
But even more seemingly "minor" features like tags are something I use every day, and I find tags in particular extremely helpful for organizing my thoughts after I've done some writing. I'm the kind of user who usually just starts with quick notes and moves those pages around into different notebooks as needed at a later time, and I use tags like "journal" or "to process" to help me remember when I need to do with those pages later. Then, of course, there was the addition of typing and eventually the Typefolio itself, which I own as well. A lot of users here on this subreddit complain about the Typefolio. That's obviously valid. For people who just want a very simple writing experience, it's clear that the Remarkable has drifted away from that.
I honestly don't believe, however, despite many people's claims, that merely being a slightly upgraded analog writing experience was ever Remarkable's actual goal. For one thing, it's not exactly a mystery that they are not earning a lot of revenue from the sale of the Remarkable 2 at this point, which is how many years old? So, they've had to find other ways to increase revenue and open up new revenue streams, such as the highly controversial subscription service that a lot of people hated (and still complain about), and the Typefolio and all the various features that have come along with that. In my opinion, Remarkable has awkwardly tried to straddle both individual users and enterprise users, and it's very clear that everything with the Typefolio is really aimed at enterprise users, which takes away development resources from the writing features many individual users want to see.
But for me, as a writer, someone who does writing daily for work, the Typefolio and the typing experience have been incredible. I use it all the time. I really believe that the features added along with the Typefolio add so much to the device. I certainly did not by the device with expectation that it would ever become a simple word processor, so the Typefolio and all the stuff around it have actually added incredible value (even though, yes, it's an expensive keyboard). Now I'm more inclined to bring my Remarkable with the Typefolio than my laptop if I'm doing simple drafting, and it really helps me focus on writing.
In terms of software, what I really want to stress as a longtime user is just how superior the Remarkable is, at least compared to Onyx Boox (and, from what I've read, SuperNote) when it comes to accessing your files on other devices. At least as a Mac user, the seamless cloud syncing and accessibility of my files on my laptop or phone is by far the best experience I've ever had with any of these E Ink devices. The competition here is really laughable. Kindle Scribe, from what I've read, has very little helpful support for organizing files and accessing them on your computer or other devices. Remarkable has really nailed this experience and it's been very iterative.
When I started using this device, the desktop app was very little more than just a way to basically mirror and download files from your device, but now, of course, you can edit files via typing and have them instantly sync (and reliably!). You can tag pages, for instance, and now with a new feature I really love, you can use the lasso tool to directly convert your handwriting to text on your desktop—another good example of an excellent and not technically challenging feature that, yep, took way too long...it's exactly like Apple and Android. Now there are tons of great emulators on the Apple App Store. Cool cool. Android users have had that for like, what, 15 years? Annoying as this lag is, when those features do come, they tend to be excellent.
To me, the desktop and mobile apps are really what separates Remarkable from its competition, and I think if you care a lot about having an improved analog writing experience, it's something you shouldn't take for granted. You can't do anything like this on Onyx Boox devices—trust me. For one thing, the typing experience on those devices is awkward and clumsy, but once you do create a file, you don't have any real way of managing it or editing it on desktop. Yes, there's a web portal and a mobile app, but imo they are absolutely trash compared to Remarkable's apps. Even the tagging experience, which in some ways is superior on Boox devices, is weird and clunky and seems to add nothing on the desktop side of things.
Look, I'm certainly not dismissing other power users' complaints. Don't take this the wrong way. But I do want to say that sometimes I feel almost as if we take some of these features for granted. I don't know how many power users might also own other devices and can therefore actually compare the Remarkable to those devices, but I think that's important. You have to compare a device to its competition, and in so many ways, Remarkable excels with the fluidity and simplicity of what they offer.
People complain about the development pace of the Remarkable software, but to me, I find that each update more or less provides some kind of concrete and useful feature. It's taken over three years for the device to really get to a point where I think it's a fully featured device. For some people, that might have been a complete deal breaker and I can understand that. But for me, I've loved that the team has demonstrated real focus in their updates. This includes the most recent beta update, which people are complaining about, the beta update software 3.12. People are complaining that Remarkable is focusing too much on needless UI updates. But here too, I love this new update because it makes navigating the UI much easier, which I think is so important. It's crucial, in my opinion, to reduce the number of taps on an E Ink device and the number of menus that you have to open and close, and that's exactly what this update does. It makes it so much easier to navigate through the home screen. I love that. I think that's exactly what the team needs to be focusing on.
Again, I've not had a perfect experience with my Remarkable. Like many users, my power button broke early on, which was frustrating to no end. It is a serious design flaw in the Remarkable 2. Whenever they release a new device, they better have fixed this failure point. As a result of breaking the power button, I had to open up the device myself to pry the damn button out, and because I'm not very precise, I struggled to get the device closed up properly and the back looked weird after that, although functioned perfectly fine, so I just covered it with the Typefolio (which I always used anyway). Most recently I had to replace my original with a refurbished one because the screen finally cracked (it was from the device being under too much pressure while being stored in my backpack, and I really don't think it was from a design flaw. Basic physics). I absolutely hate that for a company whose former and founder once claimed that customers could keep their device for 10 years, they have zero real hardware support, like, cmon Magnus Wanberg, did you not realize your devices are powered by lithium ion batteries?! It sounded cool and even radical at the time, but given Remarkable's utter failure to invest in the kind of support infrastructure that would be required to support that kind of longevity, it was clearly just marketing—shame on you. Big disappointment there. And then there's also the Remarkable 2 pens. The Pro pens, or whatever they're called, suck. They're not well designed. The collar on the nib is a point of failure just like the power button on the tablet. I cannot honestly believe that Remarkable continues to sell these crappy pencils in good faith. Judging from this forum, this problem is widespread, just like the power button problem. You'd be lucky to get a month out of one of those styluses (as I did with my first one that broke in less than a month...seriously), let alone 10 years. I've gone through at least half a dozen of those things (under warranty). That's a lot of waste guys.
So, yeah, problems for sure. But also an incredible and fairly consistent experience. At the end of the day, despite the hardware issues I've had (and the rare software problem here or there), I keep coming back to this device. It's just so deeply ingrained in my workflow. When I've tried to add other devices to my workflow, like my Boox tablets, there's always just some...issue. I love what I consider the relatively narrow focus and restraint the dev teams shows in their updates. This device just works when I pick it up—no long boot sequence (like with Boox), no confusing menus, no searching for my files on a stupid web portal. I just pick it up and write.

As we are well into rookie draft season, this also comes with a great increase in trading activity in our leagues. This is a little bit of a rant/gripe but I've been noticing some issues with trading in general recently (the last handful of years), and I wonder if we as a community can actually get anywhere to solving them or at least improving them and rekindling the spirit of what trading is supposed to be. I guess upon reflection maybe it has gotten a little bit worse recently as dynasty is getting more popular, but it has probably been ever-present since I started playing in 2011.
The main problem for me is that most people these days are entering trade negotiations in bad faith. There used to be the odd bad apple in a league who was just out to rip everyone off at first chance, but now it feels like the majority of people who actively trade fall into this category.
My view is that a trade should accomplish 3 basic things:

1. Improve your team either short or long term
   
2. Improve the team of your trading partner
   
3. Provide a base/successful rapport for future trades with that person
   

To do this requires open communication between parties, sensible discussion, genuine investigation of each team's needs, and legitimate opening offers. People need to understand that a negotiation does not mean that one person 'beats' another in a trade, it is supposed to be a mutually beneficial exercise where both parties (generally) get what they want out of the deal. I think it is always better to have both 1 and 2 accomplished than just 1.
These tenets of trading seem to have fallen by the wayside at this point, and tons of people just throw out bullshit offers expecting you to sell players to them for 50 cents on the dollar and then pay double the price for their players. Maybe it's just me, but I genuinely dislike ripping someone off because I think it's usually bad for the league overall.
Another common tactic is unwillingness to trade their top or mid tier starters and instead offer you a bunch of bench players expecting you to give up one of your studs. For me in particular all it does is build up resentment that I'm not taken seriously, and screws up point 3 of building a good relationship. If I should be willing to sacrifice one of my better or best players, why does my trading partner not have to do the same? I don't want your 3 roster cloggers for my WR1 or starting QB.
My last gripe is people who clearly are interested in a player, say to you that they are, and then aren't willing to make an initial offer. I have what you want, the onus is not on me to make the initial effort, especially if I'm not actively shopping them.
So where have we gone wrong and how do we fix these problems? Is there any hope for a world where trades are done in good faith and are a mutually beneficial exercise? Are people just unaware of what trading is about?
TL;DR: People don't trade nicely anymore and just want to rip someone else off. It's annoying and needs to be fixed as a community.
/end rant. Thank you for listening

So I've been completely enamored with this setting in the last few months. The commitment to grimdark is tone perfect and outside of old WH and 40k, reminds me a bit of the Prince of Nothing series in how it takes it's thematic inspirations from real-life and morphs into something new, but with the added benefit of being a game and with such stellar artwork by Mike!
The forces of heaven exemplify this tone so perfectly. Antioch, Pilgrim and the Sultanate are noble in their fight to save humanity from being devoured by the personifications of evil but in doing require cultures that would be abominable to us in the real world.
Antioch seems to be a collections of nations that are theocratic, feudalistic and authoritarian with everything in the service of survival. A full time war economy is going to be industrial hellscape in it's own right. The Pilgrims are just straight up lunatics, their casualties probably rake up the pounds of human flesh just as much the demons but it's deemed holy because it is all for god. The Sultanate needs more lore, but given they are isolated behind the iron wall and with the distrust of the Christians, I think it is safe to assume that they are going to have a good deal of xenophobia in regards to those who do not believe in Allah.
This is all great, in grimdark even the "good" factions have nuance and I find an exploration of these cultural pressures to be tantalizing to my brain and opens up so many avenues of interesting storytelling. The implementation of real life figures make it all the better and I'm really excited for the interpretations.
Which is why I'm a little disappointed in the forces of hell as I find that they do not have the same potential that the forces of heaven do right now. The visual design aspect is just as wonderful, but I don't see them having the same thematic nuance that excites me.
The mentioned hell characters seem to be solely demonic and one dimensional whose only aim is to get more power in the games of hell. The heretic legion claims 1/3 of humanity but all established lore is just constant human suffering with the promise of even more suffering if the forces of hell wins. It just does not seem believable why anyone would join hell if really you have only a 1% chance of being an elite hell lord while the rest of the 99% are just naked half-corpses roiling in a fire pit in a nameless section of hell. In addition, the lack of historical figures in the faction really robs the character connection for a player faction.
The black grail makes sense for a lack of nuance as it's recruitment is by virulent enslavement. That faction may stay as a mindless, cruel and uncaring mass for those who like that kind of theme but I think the general forces of hell can use some thematic expansion. A few suggestions.

1. Make hell enticing as the propagator of earthly desires and individual human will, whereas heaven is the cessation of all that makes a human a human. Claim that hell is the only reason humans can even have a personality and sense of self (the true "original sin"), it just comes with all the negative aspects too. When the devil gifted Adam the apple, he gave them joy and sadness, rage and contentment etc. Have hell be the way for humans to enjoy paradise on earth by giving them ways to become immortal, either by demonic magic or in case of the grail through undeath.
   
2. Have hell claim that life on earth is the real paradise and heaven is even worse than hell. Take a 'Paradise Lost'-esque approach and claim to be in God's presence is even more torturous than all the skin flaying and bloodletting combined, you just have no will to resist it since you are a part of him in heaven. This is why the original fallen angels decided to rebel against heaven in order to escape it all. After all, heaven's angels can't even be looked at without your eyeballs melting out of your socket so how do you think it will be when you are in god's full power? Hell is merely a place to that is necessary to destroy the soul completely(maybe to be reincarnated?) as it takes millennia of torture to finally be rid of god's grasp. Of course, this could all be absolute bullshit but I would leave it to interpretation if it's true or not.
   
3. Pagan cultures can be represented as they were forced to join Hell or be destroyed by the monotheistic religions. These would probably need some new factions but it could allow some historical figures to be present and demonic analogues to their mythological deities and creatures could be used. Some examples:
   

• Norse: I could imagine this faction as a kind of guerilla force that attacks from the ocean and the forests. Perhaps some demonology that are fae-ish in nature that plays off the Christian folklore that was taken from pagan cultures. Besides the obvious naval raiding force, some goblin type demons that seek to trick people into the forest type lore to terrorize the populaces. I could see Leif Erikson and Harald being potential inclusions.
  
• Aztec: I'm fascinated by Moctezuma and I see great potential in him for this setting. Perhaps he made a pact with hell that requires mass amounts of human sacrifice to hell to avoid the extinction of his people? I could see storylines of him as a political maneuverer in trying to keep hell off his back with the sacrificial tithes while at the same time doing deals with the forces of heaven to be free of hell's grasp. Bonus points for lake of blood Tenochtitlan and Camazotz warriors with macuahuitl-gun hybrids that shoot stakes of obsidian.
  

More just brainstorming than anything and wanted to bounce some ideas around.

So I caught this little guy at the parking lot of a mall. I have never taken care of a bird before and I have no Idea what to do to help him.
His right wing is probably broken. He can fly but can’t go up for more than a foot or fly for too long. It is late at night and most places that would be able to take him are closed. The ones that are open suggested to euthanize him and I don’t want to go that route.
So, I do need help with some things regarding him. Any advice would be appreciated.
1. What to feed him. I did buy a Wild Bird food from a nearby Walmart. It’s suet with apple pellets and seeds. There were some that were specifically for pigeons, but they were sold in large bags and are too expensive. I want to know if there is something else that I should feed him instead? He is not eating.
2. Water. I did look up a video on how to help a pigeon drink water. I did fill a small plastic container with water and gently pushed the pigeon’s beak into it a little to help him drink, but he didn’t. I also added a little sugar and salt. The water is also room temperature.
3. Movement. The only place I was able to put him was inside my cat’s carrier. He is not willing to move and I did try to move him a little towards his food, but he just went back to the corner of the carrier where he was previously. Is this because he’s scared? If so, what would make him ease up enough to move so he can eat and drink?
4. His right wing’s primaries(?) are missing and he can’t stretch his wing all the way.
Apparently the bird has been at the parking lot for at least a month? My sister’s coworker found him and moved him away from the cars. My sister found him today a couple of hours ago and got me to help capture him. If that is the same pigeon, then would that mean his wing healed in a weird way since he still can't fly?
He did poop a couple of times if that matters. He can walk fine and he does not seem to be injured anywhere else (from what I could see anyway).
I kept the carrier in a room with the door shut so the cat wont get inside. The room's dark since apparently it helps to calm a scared pigeon.
I'm not planning on keeping him (if possible) but I don't want him to suffer. Any advice would be greatly appreciated until I can find him a place that would take him and NOT euthanize him.

I took the exam this past Tuesday and obtained AT/AT/AT. When I finished the exam I honestly didn’t know if I had passed!
MY PM BACKGROUND I have managed several projects as a functional manager, but never had a PM title or worked in a PMO. I also wasn’t familiar with several PMI best practices. I wanted to be a better project manager so I registered for and completed a college PM certificate program that consisted of six three credit undergrad PM courses and a 1 credit capstone that I completed in July, 2023. The courses taught practical real world project management and change management practices based upon PMBOK ideals, but did not teach foto the test. That same month I applied for approval to take the PMP. I needed a break from studying so I didn't start prepping for the PMP until December, 2023.
MY STUDY EXPERIENCE I studied for several months. I like to get into the weeds and really comprehend everything I am learning or working on. I had multiple events caused by life, work, family and being a parent that caused me to not follow my study schedule and created multiple multi-day interruptions. I pushed my scheduled test date out twice. I ended up not being able to study for 2 weeks a couple of times and crammed the last 4 days before my exam this past Tuesday.
MY EXAM EXPERIENCE: Arrived at the Pearson Vue exam center at 7:30 A.M. though I had planned to arrive by 7:15 and beat any crowd checking in for an 8:00 A.M. exam time. There were 4 people in line before me. I wore a hoodie with multiple pockets. The hoodie made the clothes check more difficult and lengthy. Minimize your clothing’s pockets to save everybody’s time and added hassle. I asked for a calculator. They provided and they escorted me into the testing room.
As soon as I sat down the two things I wrote down on my white board was 155 and 85 (my time block finish point goals for questions 1-60 and 61-120). By question 25 I knew I was behind schedule and began to feel panicked. I picked my pace up but was feeling like many of the questions were tough. There were already several questions I wasn't certain I had answered correctly and I’d flagged for review. By question 45 I was thinking I may fail the exam. I had to refocus my brain, take some deep breaths and forge on. I finished question 60 with only 4 1/2 minutes to review my flagged questions. I wasn't able to review half of the questions I’d flagged. My allocated time ran out and I began my 10 minute break, waved to the proctor who came in and whispered instructions for me to take my id and locker key. Upon exiting the testing room he checked my ID and checked me out for break.
I went to the bathroom, opened my locker, ate some apple slices, had a couple bites of a protein bar and gulped some Body Armor sports drink, followed by a couple drinks of water. I went through the process of being checked in again, showing my id, turning all my pockets (including my hood) inside out, patting my pants down, being escorted to my seat and the proctor signing me back in.
Questions 61-120 seemed like a breeze! I only flagged 6 questions. The earmuffs provided were causing my ears to ache. I removed them, rubbed my ears and put them back on several times. Still, I cruised through the 2nd block of questions in approximately 55 minutes and finished my review within 7 minutes before I ended for my second break. I motioned for the proctor and was feeling psyched! During my second break I repeated what I’d done during my first except this time I drank the remainder of the sports drink and much more water. I was feeling dehydrated and my mouth was dry - likely caused by exam stress. I also did some stretching because the sitting and stress was causing my back to tighten. I went through the process of being checked in again, showing my id, turning all my pockets (including my hood) inside out, patting my pants down, being escorted to my seat and the proctor signing me back in.
The last 60 questions started out hard again. There were a couple questions I read, reread and read again because what it asked didn't seem to remotely match to the answer choices. Then I went into another free flow stage I’d experienced during the second block of questions, until the questions turned very difficult again. I finished the last 60 questions with about 18 minutes left on the clock. I had flagged 12 questions for review, and even changed a couple. I finished the exam with about 11 minutes remaining and walked out of the testing room having no idea whether I had passed or not. The person at the desk asked my name, checked my ID and handed me my provisional result. I immediately looked to see if I’d passed. The print was tiny! I struggled to read the small print. Finally I saw that I had preliminarily passed and felt such indescribable relief.
USE THE STRIKE-THROUGH FUNCTION TO REMOVE INCORRECT ANSWERS.
USE HIGHLIGHTER FUNCTION TO CALL OUT KEY INFO FROM THE USELESS OR MISDIRECTING INFO. (this is key because multiple questions will contain info that is there to just throw you off)
MAKE SURE YOU KNOW WHAT THE QUESTION IS ASKING AND REMEMBER MINDSET. (important because several of the questions’ info thew me off. I was focused on info that wasn't important but that an incorrect answer may address).
FLAG QUESTIONS YOU’RE UNSURE OF FOR REVIEW
PMI STUDY HALL vs THE ACTUAL EXAM
I found many of the actual exam questions to be just as complicated as SH difficult and expert questions. Several people here have said the actual exam questions are shorter and more direct. They are typically shorter, but there is a slight change in wording that caused me great difficulty, and made me less confident in my trained PMI mindset.
DRAG & DROPS, FORMULAS & CHARTS
I had 4 drag & drops, approximately 6 formula related questions, but 5 which didn't require actual math calculation and 3 or 4 charts.
My 4 KEY STUDY RECOMMENDATIONS

1. Watch David Mclachlan YouTube videos. Listen to his questions at 2 x speed, stop before he provides the answer, use mindset and select your answer, play - listen to his answer and reason. Do DM videos as much as possible.

https://youtu.be/tNIHysh2ZW4?si=iU_lxF_8xd3otLGZ
https://youtu.be/Zht0-j03NfQ?si=Y_4j72VNgr_4imdY
https://youtu.be/xIH-u81XCxM?si=dJtDDxCQzuBLL3Kl

1. Buy and read u/Third3rock PMP notes and cheat sheet. Read through all of it in its entirety and then reference repeatedly when doing Study Hall review. Read, and re-read over and over again the mindset sections.

https://buymeacoffee.com/third3rock/extras

1. Subscribe to PMI Study Hall and start doing practice questions as soon as possible. Read and review the answer and explanation for each, whether you got the question right or not. Research those topics you don't understand. Look up the wrong answers if they use terms you don't know or understand. Record your scores on a spreadsheet and reset your practice answers and exams and take them again. I scored a 69 the first time I took the 1st full mock exam. Deducting the expert questions, my score was 79. I scored a 79 on the second exam and didn't bother calculating for expert because from everything I read on this subreddit, a 79 was good enough for most people to pass. I scored as low as the 40s on some practice sections, and 100 on others. Most were in the 60-70 range my first time through. Don’t become discouraged by low scores. Read the answer explanations, further research topics you’re struggling to understand, and make notes.
   
2. Check in with this Subbreddit regularly, review posts, participate, comment and ask questions. This group is an amazing resource!
   

I bought AR’s study book on Amazon which came with his 35 hour video course for free. His book is informative but so poorly edited that I could not get through 150 pages before I abandoned it. I did not need the 35 study hours to qualify as I had taken a college PM certificate course consisting of six 3 credit courses and a capstone for 1 credit so I far exceeded the minimum needed. I didn’t bother watching his video. DM was a great tool for me. In addition to u/Third3rock, I did reference the PMI Agile; the PMI Processes and PMI PMBOK 7th Ed books when researching topics I felt I needed to better understand as I reviewed DM and Study Hall questions. I also made copious notes of my own - many of which I never referred back to, but the simple act of writing down and thinking about what I was writing helped me memorize.
Keep grinding Study Hall and researching terms and concepts you don't know.
Know the 5 Process Groups. That’ll help you narrow down questions. Know how to read burn up and burn down charts. Know when to choose Agile, Waterfall or Hybrid. Study Hall to me seemed to focus on when to choose Hybrid and Waterfall. Know when to choose Agile, iterative or incremental too.
You may score very low on some Study Hall mini-quizzes or tests. Don't give up! Keep grinding!
I hope this is helpful to some of you, as I want to pay it forward. I am so thankful for those who have contributed to this subreddit. You were great help. Feel free to ask questions here or direct message me if you have a question you think I may be able to help with.

Platform(s): Online
Genre: Third person 2D, Top down, Educational
Estimated year of release: Mid-to-late 2000s
Graphics/art style: characters looked realistic, but cartoony (think a 2000s animated TV show geared towards young children), very colorful backgrounds, may have taken place in fall due to brown leaves on the ground, the background colours would change from light to dark the later the day got, character lines appeared in big speech bubbles
Notable characters: Several school-aged children and adult caretakers
Notable gameplay mechanics: Very simple, arrow keys to explore your surrondings, space bar and mouse to trigger conversations and play minigames. Day started by you getting up and ended by going to bed. You could also drive to school via bus (you always returned in the evening).
Other details: Even though I played the game on a German gaming website called Jetztspielen.ws (I wasn't able to find it with the Wayback Machine), it was in English and advertised a child welfare organisation. I assume it was SOS Children's Village because of a logo popping up every now and then (two white silhouettes of children holding hands on a blue background). The MC (you could chose their gender and ethnicity) lived in a big housing facility with a garden and a playground. There were also some other children and adult custodians. When you talked to them, they either invited you to play a minigame or urged you to care about children in need. I remember five minigames: Picking up apples falling from a tree, raking up leaves, putting paper in a wastebasket, throwing basketballs through a hoop and solving simple jigsaw puzzles that consisted of pictures of real-life children.

It’s been a quite long time since I left my homestay family, but I do get traumatised occasionally (even no trigger) due to what I deal with while living with them in the past.
I came to NZ in July 2016 and was arranged to stay at a seemingly nice host family. The host lady is named M and will be the main character of my story. She was nice at the beginning being a caring person to my situation. Because I came to a different place at the age of 16; I got cold, freezing, homesick, and was struggling to be fit in their food culture; M was treating me nicely, but it didn’t last long…

 1. I was treated like a dishwasher 

M set a house rule for the homestay students that we should wash dishes after meal times. I didn’t mind doing it since she cooked for the family. Also they had a dishwasher, and I thought I just basically rinsed dishes and put them to the machine. It seemed ideal that way but wasn’t the case. I realised the dishwasher was useless since it was always overflowing. There were way too many dishes used at home because their girls ate a lot (they were just 2-3 years old), so there were way more dishes than usual. M was also a stay-at-home mum, so she cooked quite often throughout the day. The dishwasher wasn’t much help, and I usually ended up washing dishes by hands myself. And since I seemed to obligate to her rule (it was quite hard back then to speak up as an international student, esp I was just 16 years old, my English wasn’t that good either), M actually took advantage of it and things went quite wrong. Dishes were often accumulating for the whole day until dinner time when I finished school and went home (those dishes were all used by M and her daughters…), so I started to feel like I was being used, I got sick of washing a big pile of dishes manually. Ofc it didn’t happen very day, but few times a week in those 4 months of my stay. Not just that, M loved baking on the weekend and she baked every every single week or two. While I was staying at home, she then asked me to clean her mess, even though I didn’t eat them at all… The same thing happened when they had big events like having guests came over, birthdays, things like that; M always made a big feast and used almost everything in the kitchen. On that day, I happened to wash dishes every 10 or 15 minutes so that she had something to use for her next batch of cooking, while she just kept cooking, throwing stuff in the sink for me, and the host gentleman was busy chatting with guests or playing with his girls. The remark was when their guests stayed late to catch up while eating a big dessert/snack until 11-12pm, I had to stay up late until they left so that I could wash the dishes (I washed dishes don’t know how many times that day, I couldn’t even enjoy my meal). I was crying so hard that night, because I was hoping they tell me to go to bed but they didn’t, and actually they were happy to see me being “hardworking” like that. I truly got scared of being home and eat with the host family because I was obsessed of those dishes that were often accumulating on the bench…
A side note from me is that back in 2016, I paid 240nzd per week for the host family, and it was a decent pay I found in NZ back then. Their responsibilities were to provide me 3 full meals per day, bedding stuff, and look after my wellbeing; so it was like they had another daughter to take care of, but they got paid to do so.

 2. They barely provided me enough food 

My food supply was going well in the first few weeks, and I guessed it was just a disguise since I first came and stayed in their home. Not long after, M said that I was too needy to have stirfry for my lunch because they were expensive (I cooked them myself btw, she never did anything for my lunch or breakfast). And, I didn’t eat stirfry every day, it was just to get something different in between since I couldn’t eat her low-quality sandwich all times (it was just cheap bread and a piece of ham, sometimes I had a slice of cheese, and that was it). I’m Asian and M actually knows quite well about my food culture, because I did share to them how our meals were like. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to adapt, we all know it takes time. I come from a country where we all have hot foods and literally 3 full meals a day; and all of sudden I had to get myself to eat cereals with cold milk and cold sandwich for breakfast and lunch, it wasn’t easy for me to do that, every single day. So that was why I still made stirfry or instant noodles in between. She was happy to buy some of the ingredients for me in the beginning but then she was venting how expensive they were etc, and she made it clear that she wouldn’t supply those any longer (those ingredients were only a pack of beef or pork mince and frozen veggies which was just around 15nzd for the whole week, and I bought instant noodles myself so…). It got worse and worse over time since I often had nothing to prep for lunch, even just a banana or apple to bring with me. I tried to save money and was happy to go with the ham sandwich daily, but M even bought them no more. I told her that and she only said “yep”, nothing changed, the fridge was almost emptied for days. I then realised she had a 198L chest freezer at the back that was full of meat and I one time asked her if I could use one of those to cook for my lunch, and she said “NO” with uncomfort. I started to skipped breakfast and bought lunch daily at the school canteen for quite a long time, M knew and ignored it. So I feel like she’s more than happy as long as she doesn’t need to spend anything for me… I was often underfed really as I was always hungry, and I just kept drinking and drinking to overcome that. There was nothing special about dinner either, what I could remember was nothing else but just meat, beans, tomato sauce with rice all in one pot. Occasionally M did cook something different but not that noticeable to me. She cooked dinner just enough for everyone, but sadly I didn’t get full since I kinda relied on the dinner time after the whole day being “fasted”. And yeah after those dramas I didn’t really bother to ask if she could make a bigger portion so… I went out to eat with friends, bough fast foods or takeways more often.
Another side note: I was quite unfortunate to experience menorrhagia at that young age (it’s gone now). My period lasted one full month or more and was often heavy (Dr couldn’t help). M knew that 🙂 but still treated me that way, “used” me to do house work and underfed me.

 3. I didn’t stay warm enough 

Another challenge for me was to adapt to winter time here as a person coming from a tropical country with a temperature of always above 30oC. M was happy to supply me a heater and electric blanket, but just until September when it was hitting Spring time. She made it clear that I wasn’t allowed to use any of them because last winter bills were expensive (yeah she was again venting about the living expense), even though the weather was still chilling and could sometimes hit 1-2oC at night. There was just a day I woke up at the middle of 3am as I was freezing, so I turned the heater on and promised to myself that I would turn it off when I woke up again. M walked into my room and I got caught of using the heater (I was still asleep). She was angry with me first thing in the morning and I didn’t get a chance to explain that it was really over my limit to handle the cold (I really tried to stay cold and get along with it, but it was just that day I couldn’t). She then took the heater and electric blanket away from me… I still remember how pale I was back then of not just losing blood so often but also feeling cold all the times. It was hard to me to go “home” after all that happened and I started to stay at friend’s or public library more often, because they were warmer at least. I also tried to walk and walk for hours reaching nowhere on my day-off so that I could feel warmer.
Psst, I walked pass her room one time and my feet felt a real warm air coming from there 😏

 4. Drama still ongoing on my last day 

It finally came to that day. It was around 8am, I was asleep when M walked into my room and told me to quickly packed and left the house immediately (my flight was at 7 or 8 pm) since her kids were sick, she didn’t want me to get transmitted. Until now I still don’t get what kind of sickness her girls had because they still went to daycare on that day 😂. Anyway, so I tried to pack and clean my room as quick as I could first thing I got up. I was suddenly in a need to change my pad but they ran out unknowingly, so I asked M if she could give me one (I asked her because it was kinda urgent and my friend was on the way to pick me up). Guess what, M got angry at me 🙁 and told me to walk to the convenient store to buy one myself (it took me 30 mins for a return). Luckily my friend didn’t get to wait for me long, when she knew my story she said I could have taken one from her when we met, but really, I just couldn’t think anything then esp when I was on rush and really tired. When I finally got home, M texted me and said how disappointed she felt because I left the room so dirty. I still don’t get why she found it dirty because I vacuumed and did dusting quite well, I took all my stuff away, bed was tidy, room emptied. Ofc it can’t be spotless since she was the one asking me to leave immediately, she should know the cleanliness can only be relative to some extent (I got up at 8 and left around 10).
It was relieved when Ieft that homestay family. I don’t really care if M’s still running the homestay business but if she’s still able to do so, good for her and best wishes to the students. I don’t get why I was treated that way as I’m confident to say that I’m not a spoiled kid. I was raised in a very strict and conservative family (typical Asian), so I’m confident to say that I behaved well and was respectful to that host family till the end. I come to NZ with a mission and hope that I could work and live here permanently, I studied hard, worked hard to be a Med Lab Scientist (now I am 😃). So it’s unfair to me really and I still have that trauma ongoing in my head until now (I didn’t think much at that time, but those memories still remained in my mind). And a big thank you to you who read it till this end ☺️

The Fall Least Unexpected
Camp Wapiti was the most competitive summer-camp on the western border of the Allegheny Mountains, titular for the raving children’s testimonies by the end of the season. An influx of young campers had signed up this year to roost in forests of Red Spruce and Eastern Hemlock. The camp had reportedly gone through a series of expansion, including state-of-the-art “lodging enclaves” and an Olympic-sized swimming pool; at least according to the Wapiti parent Facebook Group. Rah-rah Elks!

A slew of bus rentals carries the kids to the gates of the 150-acre property, summer reveries already taking effect on everyone - from the bus drivers to the happy campers. The counselors had done a splendid job in garbing under the theme of Swan Lake, tinges of pastel pink and candlelight establishing the camp’s timbre; all awaited returning and new faces alike.

Once they reached, a horde of children spilled out from vehicles from all directions. The season had started.

“Welcome to Camp Wapiti our future outdoorsmen and adventurers! Plenty of secrets and fun await you this year - but first some rules…” bellowed Hailey Clifton, head counselor of the ensemble and youngest chick among the staff. The other counselors rolled their eyes during Hailey’s yearly pitch about showing a high level of care towards the surrounding wilderness and carrying the Happy Camper’s Guide to Nature: Dynamite Deciduous at all times. Many of the children began fidgeting, a crowd of creepy-crawlers wiggling underneath the heat vortex and swarm of mosquitos.

Finally, a cool breeze could be felt as Hailey finished off, invigorating everybody’s spirits once again. Campers and counselors drifted off into their own respective circles, reuniting with old friends and meeting new ones, breathing life and community into the grounds. Already burnt bodies sticky from chlorine and Sun-Bum were packed like sardine and people of all ages hollered from the tree-tops.

The first afternoon and night had been a success in every sense of the word. Residents were comatose within their cabins before 10 pm, in anticipation for a day at Lake Dimii in the morning. Somebody was dreaming of the unmarred lake and its magical properties according to the Iroquois, at any given moment during the night.

Come morning, camp was bustling with movement in every corner. Louie, an independent, fire-cracker 11-year-old from Brooklyn led a large pack of his well-rested peers to the lake. The other kids couldn’t help but look up to Louie, who was often disinterested in the bull of the others, but who was also the first person someone would ask for help in messing with the counselors or sneaking into the girl’s dorm at night. The children sang Wapiti’s jingle on their trek:

We are the happy herd of elks
Roaming through the fields with stealth!
On our crow’s nest seat,
We are the Camp Wapiti fleet!

The children’s chants could be heard reverberating through the wood, like a canyon wall is to singing birds. The menagerie cannonballed into the lake from all perimeters, the counselors struggling to keep up. But the day swelled with happiness as the surroundings looked effervescent within the sunlight, everything appeared to be cast underneath a yellow, sparkly film. After head-check, Hailey could finally record the potpourri of foreign flowers in her scrapbook.

Michel Barre and his two most loyal pals, Barnett and Sal, were camped away from the others, scoffing at the troupe of wildlings swimming in the waters. Michel, son of hot-shot French socialites, had moved to the North-East just two years ago, and still couldn’t wrap his mind around the hobbies and traditions of American kids his age; especially the dreaded capture the flag. The counselors had attempted to urge the three to join the others in the water, coaxing them with extra pie during dessert, but with no luck.

Traditionally, the first few days of camp were a hedonistic blur with no planned activities or events. Counselors encouraged to introduce themselves with one another and become comfortable with their bunk-mates especially. After a blistering day in the heat at Dimii, the whole lot was absolutely worn-out and immediately returned to their quarters following a hearty meal of chicken fried steak and apple pie fritters. Another day of sunshine and splashing around in the surf awaited everybody tomorrow, with a round of softball and soft serve afterwards. Even Michel felt a knot of excitement grow in his stomach.

Yet at half-past three in the morning, just two remained awake. As the moon’s image was reflected upon the lake’s surface while the others peacefully slept, Michel had been awoken and dragged by his feet out of his bed, across floorboards punctuated with nails, and out into the night. He was dragged for what seemed like hours. Across the gravel, dirt, and bushes, his skin was battered, and his limbs mangled. He contained no mental or physical capacity to identify who on God’s Earth was forcing him through his misery.

After a while, Michel could discern a certain atmospheric change - the air had felt more serene - what could only be Lake Dimii.

SWIM AT YOUR OWN RISK “NO LIFEGUARD”

• Read a wasted sign, torn at its hinges.

“Please, I'm so sorry for whatever I did - please don’t-” Michel’s captor continued on to the edge of the lake and held him there, his face inundated like a trembling leaf caught in a storm. Michel didn’t know how to swim and tried to remember what his camping guide said about situations like this, but his mind went blank, and his lungs burned.

A passerby would be able to make out the two figures easily, even though the humid mist: One submerged and one forcing its grasp on the nape of the other’s neck, calmly watching. Michel was so incapacitated he wasn’t even aware that he was being forcibly held - he only regretted refusing to take swimming lessons as a child. And now his despairing amount of weakness against the dark waters was apparent. He thrashed about like a wild animal, a trail of bubbles circling his head. Gasps and sunken murmurs were the only sounds that could be heard on the lakeside at this hour.

And the other continued to watch, looking almost disinterested in the slump of his shoulders and the swaying of his feet. The moon still stubbornly shone, indiscriminate in its gleam, illuminating the other boy’s poor, sinking body. The scene was now still - a sharp contrast from a mere 8 hours ago.

The one on the bank turned to leave for the campgrounds, whistling a familiar tune.
The amount of time it takes to notice a person is missing is usually longer than one would think. In the case of Michel Barre, it took nearly 2 hours after the inhabitants of Wapiti rose. Barnett and Sal eventually realized that Michel was nowhere to be found and alerted Hailey before they were blamed for something they didn’t do. All campers were to report back to their bunks immediately for the rest of the day and stay there till instructed otherwise. A wave of confusion and frustration hit the camp – and rumors quickly spread like a nasty bout of lice.

According to the older kids, Barnett and Sal were messing around with Michel in the woods and left him there for inexplicable reasons. Others believed that Michel’s mega-loaded parents airlifted him out of the woods after just a few hours sleeping in the itchy twin sheets.

Meanwhile, in the counselor’s lodge, absolute pandemonium had settled alongside the cabin’s perpetual dust. These ‘designated adults’ were not adults at all, but hormonal, dewy-eyed teenagers who had been looking forward to an unsupervised summer. None of them were prepared for a situation like this.

“How on Earth will we ever explain this to Michel’s parents? The poor boy - he is probably wounded in the middle of the forest somewhere. Who knows, he could already be dead right now,” cried Hailey. The others stared at her blankly, not knowing what to say in response.

Javon Scott, who was only there for the massive paycheck that would hit his bank account at the end of the summer, couldn’t stop concentrating on Hailey's strawberry-blond curls. They smelled like apples.

“Hailey’s right, guys. Michel’s probably dead somewhere in a ditch. Shit, I can’t handle this right now, I need to smoke,” said Javon. He couldn’t keep his legs from bouncing, even with two hands on his thighs. Hailey let out a dry sob.

“You’ve been smoking too much Javon. The kid is probably fine, he couldn’t have made it that far into the woods,” chimed in someone from the back. A few other counselors murmured in agreement.

“We can’t bank on that. We have to tell Michel’s parents and call the authorities,” said Hailey. Javon aggressively nodded his head - the only one out of the bunch to agree.

“Like the cops? No way, I like this gig and my parents would murder me. Let’s all just split up and try to find him first,” said Bryce, one of the older counselors, a local town bum. There seemed to be a consensus already made at that point and all of Hailey's lamentations were paid any further attention.

The teens decided on rounding up the campers towards the center of the ground for the remainder of the day and to keep guard for God-knows-what, while the rest divvied up the surrounding woods in sections to search for the missing boy. Seemingly overnight, Camp Wapiti had transformed into a dire place – a canvas of frantic people and an obscure disappearance coloring the air.
Hailey had volunteered to scale the one of many huge rocks overlooking the eastern corner of the camp, a citadel over the surrounding area. Javon had offered to accompany Hailey, but everyone agreed it would be best if he stayed out at camp and watched over the fidgety kids. Javon grumbled about his role, because the last thing he wanted to do was spend the rest of the day with the snotty-sits, but he was sorely outnumbered. Besides, Hailey wanted to be alone.

The rock sat among the treetops, overlooking miles beyond the peripheries of the camp in each direction. It was a hot spot for late-night hookups, summertime dares, and sunrise viewings. Some of the graffiti that marked the base of the rock was almost two generations old.

It took a good 20 minutes for Hailey to reach the peak. Once she did, she was taken aback at the unstable illusion that was presented - the forest and vegetation seemed to have no end, swallowing all the land in its vastness. She shuddered to think where Michel could be within the thickets, as there was no way she could make out a 9-year-old from this vantage point. Her day had been spent in vain.

She plopped down at the edge of the overlook and began to burst into fitful tears. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how scared Michel was. Her stomach felt like a bowling ball. She decided that she would immediately contact the Allegheny preservative police and Michel’s parents before telling the others. She took in the horizon for a few months, ablaze in a deep mandarin, before heading back to Wapiti.

Except, someone had been watching her and her lovely head full of curls for a while now. It was a quite pleasant evening, and a single sight was more like a shout in the dead silence. And so, when Hailey could hear the heavy breathing of someone behind her, she chose not to stir.

“I know that’s you Javon. Look, I don’t have the time for this right now,” said Hailey, sniffling into her hands. Only silence followed and the breathing now ceased. Hailey looked over her shoulders and saw only rock. She felt as if she were becoming progressively crazier as the day went on.

Hailey turned back to stare at the view. And as she tumbled down the face of the cliff - from a single push or a gust of wind, no one would be able to tell - her last thoughts were of Michel’s ill-fated end instead of hers and how beautiful the sea of green looked when falling. Down, down she went, impaled upon the serrated end of a branch. Dark, gelatinous fluid sprayed from where she was impaled. She writhed in agony for thirty long minutes before her organs failed from the fatal amount of blood that was lost to the forest dirt.
By 10 pm, all of the inhabitants were united, and unlike this morning, there was a noticeable absence in the atmosphere. With the chief counselor nowhere to be found, the modus operandi of the camp had been altered. Campers were ordered to stay in their cabins and to not leave under any circumstances. Most of the counselors themselves hunkered in their bunks, too exhausted to search for yet another missing person or were a little paranoid themselves. Besides, Hailey probably bailed on the rest of them to avoid being complicit in anything that anything might have happened to Michel.

Still, a few agreed it was best to search the immediate vicinity at least once more, including Javon, who hadn’t felt this terrible since his parent’s divorce.

The crag wasn’t too far from the camp and so when five odd teenagers stumbled upon the grisly sight that was the remains of their fellow counselor – with what the forest scavengers had made of the relatively fresh carcass anyways - a wave of nausea and hysteria hit the group. Two immediately ran straight backwards towards the lodges, escaping into the night.

Javon stood within the fetid odor of the body, unable to take his eyes off the ravage in front of him. Tears silently raced down his cheek. The Allegheny Mountains had turned into an inescapable hellscape paradox.

The remaining counselors turned to wake and alert the others, concluding that the only possible explanation was that Hailey had tumbled from a rock. Javon contested this theory, adamant foul play was involved, but like always, he was ignored. Hailey’s body was left alone, and Camp Wapiti was bustling in panic for the second time that day, except everyone knew what had happened to Hailey. And now with the bus rentals back already less than 96 hours, followed by a parade of police forces, the warmth of the season had disappeared just as quickly it had come.

There simply weren’t enough buses available to transport the entire camp’s population in one batch, especially considering the time of night. The kids were priority and were bused off the premises as soon as possible, except for around two dozen. The police rounded everyone else - which included all the counselors – into the canteen, dead-center of the campsite.

By 6 AM, Javon had become sick of his environment and everyone in it. No one had been able to sleep the whole night except the police, who were used to sleeping in their patrol cars. A distinct tenor could be felt in the canteen, not a soul felt safe during those 9 dreadful hours.

Louie – the Brooklyn boy – entertained some of the other kids by reciting gruesome renditions of what could have happened to Michel and Hailey. The kids took morbid interest, looking over their shoulders for the monsters in Louie’s reenactments. A detailed sketch had been made of the killer. The kids described him as like the silent Northern Saw-Whet Owl, camouflaging within the dark envelope of the forest.

Javon snuck off into the sunrise to go smoke a joint in the hammock park behind the canteen, in plain view of the swarm of knocked-out cops. His nerves were in desperate need of soothing and he didn’t need to think twice about using the only medicine at hand.

The sunrise was dim and sullen, casting its gray halo throughout the sky. The hammock swayed slightly from the cool morning breeze and Javon was starting to get a little sick. Images of Hailey had been burned into his subconscious and he wondered how he would ever be able to sleep again. Well, not sober at least.

Javon could care less about the “owl” killer if he were staring at the end of its barrel, he just needed to forget about this place. This was the first time he had regretted not filling out college application forms, because now, he couldn’t escape this town even if he tried.

As he continued to ruminate in his limited prospects, he saw a shadow flit from the corner of his eye. He jolted awake from his existential morning thoughts.

It was a rather small shadow, one that emerged like a premature lightning strike. The figure disappeared into the woods – seemingly spawning from the direction of the cabins. Snuffing his joint, Javon waltzed in the shadow’s path, determined to not let the sly thing get away. The police were starting to stir. Javon dashed into the thicket’s cover.

While the figure had been in full sprint before, Javon had caught up to it within a couple of minutes. From behind a tree, looking onto an unobstructed clearing, there was the silhouette, his back facing Javon.

It was a boy. A shirtless boy. Quiet and unmoving. But Javon could easily recognize the person’s gait – strangely self-assured for just an 11-year-old. No doubt it was Louie, unruly, scraped and bruised, swaggering within late dawn’s mist. Javon observed quietly for a few moments, watching the boy sit in silence in the grass.

Louie knew someone was watching him. Besides, he had been on the other side – the one who was hunting the unsuspecting so many times that his instincts were deceivingly sharp. Louie turned his head around slowly, catching Javon’s direct line of vision and holding it. Javon froze under Louie’s blank expression towards him.

Slowly, Louie made his way towards Javon, carefully maintaining eye contact. Javon was almost in some sort of trance and had been. rendered immobile. Louie started to quicken his pace, opening his mouth to say something before Javon snapped out of his terrifying reverie.

Javon’s paranoia was through the roof, fueled by all that weed he consumed on an empty stomach. He ran towards the cabin for dear life to warn the others, convinced of Louie’s hand in evil. Something about Louie’s vacant eyes, devoid of emotion and almost-artificial like, sent Javon reeling for shelter from that empty expression. Even Hailey’s lifeless face exhibited more human-ness.

He finally had enough courage to look behind him when in view of the canteen, only to be met with a silent wood. Nevertheless, he continued to run, right outside to the main grounds, running right smack into the punchy gut of a cop.

“Do you think you can tell me what you are doing out here, hm,” asked the man in faded blue. Javon relayed his morning, leaving out extraneous details. But what he said fell upon empty ears and a boisterous laugh!

“Hmph, you kids sure aren’t meant to be out here as counselors. Clueless, all of you.”

But the police soon realized that Javon was telling the cold truth. Louie was thought to be on the busses, but the police received word that the boy was nowhere to be found in the vehicles. A small search-party was sent into the woods, but there wasn’t a single trace of an 11-year-old to be found. Only a lumbering 21-year-old, who took embarrassingly long strides.
Louie and his belongings had dematerialized along with warm winds of summer.

As the rest of the kids and counselors were sent away through a second round of buses, Javon looked longingly at the shrinking campgrounds from the back window.

On our crow’s nest seat,
We are the Camp Wapiti fleet!

Javon dreamt of distant heights and killer elks for months after the incidents.

Race Information

• Name: BMO Vancouver Marathon 2024
• Date: May 5th, 2024
• Distance: 26.2 miles
• Location: Vancouver, BC
• Website: https://bmovanmarathon.ca/
• Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/11341057303
• Time: 3:33:31

Goals

Goal	Description	Completed?
A	Sub 3:20	No
B	Sub 3:30	No
C	PB (Sub 3:34)	Barely

Splits

Mile	Time
1	7:39
2	7:30
3	7:51
4	7:51
5	7:51
6	8:11
7	8:58
8	8:25
9	8:14
10	8:07
11	7:54
12	7:49
13	7:40
14	8:14
15	8:29
16	8:15
17	8:10
18	8:18
19	8:21
20	8:10
21	7:40
22	7:46
23	7:36
24	7:58
25	8:10
26	7:38
26.2	7:02

Training

My last marathon was Toronto back in October, where I ran 3:34 (race report here).
I mostly followed whatever Garmin's auto-suggested runs were. My goal since last summer has primarily been to improve my aerobic pace with Z2 running. Comparing my HR during runs now to last year seems to indicate I've seen a lot of improvement there, and I can feel that. Another goal of mine since my last race was to work on strength after having issues with my adductors and glute, but I don't think I quite followed through on that. For the first few months of the year I was okay about going to the gym and doing leg curls, split squats, and core work, but I kind of fell out of the habit eventually. I also went to a few strength training classes that would leave me sore for several days, but I need to do that more often to really build on it; I did feel my hamstrings were stronger from doing deadlifts and step-downs.
In some of my long runs I wore a vest and had the idea that maybe I'll carry a vest during the race this time so that I could always have hydration and even add some pomegranate juice/coconut water to a flask for easy access to carbs and electrolytes. This worked well, but I ultimately decided after the training runs that the bouncing would be too annoying, I would sweat more because of the vest, and I am pretty good about drinking lots of water outside of running.
I didn't do a lot of speed work in my training, but when I did up the intensity, I noticed I would sometimes feel some tightness on the right side of my chest, which is an issue I had in high school. At the time I was worried it was a heart issue, but I got a lot of tests done to indicate there were no issues. The issue is that I don't change up how I breathe between easy runs (long, slow breaths) and hard runs. I think I need to breathe more intensely to avoid diaphragm tightness, and more speed training will help with that.
My shoe rotation was Saucony Triumph 20s as my daily trainers, Kinvara 13s as my speed shoe, and I picked up a pair of Endorphin Speed 3s from Winners for $60 a few months ago which I've been using for speed and long runs, which complement my Endorphin Pro 3 race shoes.
My Garmin race prediction was 3:19. My personal feeling was that I could achieve that goal if it was a flat race, but I was skeptical on how I would perform on the course. I looked up other race reviews, watched a video of the race, and tried to think about how I would handle the hills, but knew that I didn't have enough experience to not have it be a factor.

Pre-race

Flight and Expo

Two Fridays before the race I did Anaerobic intervals and that was probably a mistake because my adductor was sore for over 4 days after that. I probably still felt the effects of that on race day.
I did my 5k shakeout run in my race shoes Friday morning. I had leftover pasta before leaving for the airport in the late afternoon. I flew to Vancouver on in the evening, arriving at night.
On Saturday, I went to the grocery store immediately after waking up since it was closed after we arrived the night before. The main things I got for myself that were race-relevant were gluten free quick oats, coconut water, apple and orange juice, honey, sunflower seed butter, soy milk, and a carton of cold brew coffee.
I went to the expo to get my bib before we got lunch in Gastown. We went to MeeT, and I got the Philly Cheezesteak Poutine and Oyster Mushroom Calamari which I shared with my GF. They had an issue with my friend's order so they offered him a free dessert which he was nice enough to share, so I got to have a bit of his brownie too!
After lunch I recommended everyone check out Stanley Park on their own so I could go home and rest my legs. I stopped by Nesters to pick up a GF Caulipower Pizza for dinner to have with some juice. My blood sugar spiked from the poutine at lunch, so I took some insulin to correct that, pre-emptively took insulin for the pizza I was about to have, and took a nap. After that, I put the pizza in the AirBnB's toaster oven (on top of some foil to avoid cross-contamination), but this ended up being a mistake. We discovered later in the week that the toaster oven stops working after a minute or two. When I ate my pizza I noticed it was a bit soft but figured it may have just been the texture: now I know it was likely undercooked, and I feel stupid for not realizing that.

Race Day

The start time for the marathon was 8:30am and I was in the first corral. I woke up at 5:30am and had my oatmeal (quick oats microwaved in water, a spoon of sunflower seed butter, splash of soy milk, superseed blend (chia, hemp, and toasted buckwheat groats), and honey), and a tall glass of cold brew coffee + soy milk. Shortly after waking up I realized I had an upset stomach, so naturally I started feeling stressed that I would have GI issues during the race (see comments about the pizza above). We worried that I may have accidentally ingested gluten due to my group of 7 having gluten in my vicinity, not realizing it was probably the pizza. I had to use the washroom a few times, and hoped it would pass. I had a 500ml bottle of nuun with water mixed with orange juice that I sipped on for the next hour since I saw a Ben Parker video where he did that. Thankfully I wasn't stuck in the bathroom all morning, but I was worried I would feel sick during the race.
With me I brought:

• 5 Huma gels (I don't recall if any of them were caffeinated, but it was Blueberry, Chocolate, and Mocha flavours). I had 2 left after the race.
• 2 Larabars (1 cashew cookie, 1 peanut butter chocolate chip)
• A pack of salt tabs (I'd never taken one but got a free sample at the SF marathon and wanted to have them in case I cramped up for emergency purposes)
• Insulin pump and phone (wish I didn't need to carry a pump with me but it is what it is)
• GF cookies and cream Honey Stinger waffle
• A ziploc bag with two Gravels in case of stomach issues

I was staying in Mount Pleasant and wasn't close to a SkyTrain station. It would have been a 45 minute walk to the start line, but I intended to walk to Main Street and take the 8am bus going south (I originally meant to take the 7:45 bus but my stomach problems delayed my exit). I got to the stop at 7:55, saw a bus approach a few minutes later thinking it was mine, but it said "Sorry, not in service." Oh well, I thought, it'll probably come in a minute. A few minutes pass and no bus came. A different one did that wasn't the one I needed to take. I checked the Transit app and the bus I needed to get on was showing as having already passed. I guess it was the "not in service" one? Maybe it was full? I asked some people at the bus stop who looked like they were spectators, and they were also confused. We ended up walking from there, but I jogged since I needed to get to the start line with some time to spare. During the jog I could tell that my muscles were really tight, which didn't give me a lot of confidence about how the race would do go. I still made it to the start area around 8:15. I stood in line at one of the porta-potties and did my dynamic warm-up routine while waiting. I just made it out of there at 8:28 and rushed over to the start line while gobbling down on my Honey Stinger Waffle and taking a bit of insulin since my blood sugar was already a bit high. Unfortunately, I hastily got into the start line area wherever I could, and I ended up 3 or 4 corrals after the first. I tried as hard as I could to squeeze between people as politely as possible to try and get to my corral. Unfortunately I just missed it, so I ended up being at the front of the 2nd corral, which was fine given what my final time was; I just wish I hadn't wasted energy trying to rush to the front around everyone.

Race

1-6

I started feeling pretty strong, but I also know that my HR takes some time to go up when I start my runs, so I knew I would get cocky in the beginning. My dynamic warm up helped loosen up my glutes and hips, which I was worried about when I jogged to the start line, but immediately when the run started I could feel tightness in my hamstring. Not a great sign but I tried not to focus on it and accept that it's race time so I'll just have to do my best.
I was worried about the hills going in because I didn't do a lot of hill training, and I suck at running down hills. I understand that I simultaneously shouldn't run downhill too quickly to avoid bonking later on, but I also need to use the steady downhills to make up for the time I was going to lose on the climb at Cambie. I went to my physio a few weeks before the race and told her about how I feel tightness in my knee when I run downhill; she helped make adjustments and gave me exercises to do to help my knee feel more comfortable on downhills; they definitely helped, but I still don't have the right technique for running downhill optimally in a way that doesn't cause me to waste energy slowing myself down. I was a little bit ahead of pace by the time I got to the dreaded hill.

7-13

The hill obviously sucked, but that was expected. It was stressful to go slow and have my heart rate go so high, but I tried to keep a consistent cadence going up. At the top of the hill I had a hard time bringing my HR down while maintaining a decent pace. It looks like it took me a few miles after the sharp ascent before I got back to target pace. My hamstring hurting didn't help with this.
The scenery was beautiful and hearing all the positivity around me helped keep my spirits up. After having a gel and trying to pick up the pace a bit I could feel my stomach starting to rumble, so I took one of my gravols and slowed down. I figured they take time to have effect so I wanted to take them early.
I spent a lot of the race alone, which was nice when I would pass by spectators calling my name. It was nice to hear people cheering me on and comment how I wasn't even breaking a sweat. There was a jazz band playing before we arrived at UBC which was awesome to hear.
Right before the halfway mark was a steep downhill. I tried my best to avoid speeding up too much because there was still a lot of race to go. The views of the mountains at the turn were beautiful.

14-21

I started feeling a bit discouraged because my heart rate was in the 170s even though I wasn't going too fast, but my legs were still hurting from the beginning. I read online about how the Burrard Street bridge is brutal and the part of the race where many people hit the wall, so my mind was entirely on that. I also asked my friends to be at the bridge; they already had to go downtown at 9am to see the half marathoners finish and to get one of the people staying with us to his 8k start line at 9:30am. I didn't check my phone during the race but I would see Whatsapp notifications pop up on my watch, and it gave me motivation to see that they were on the way, and also comment on how fast I was going :)
I don't think I had trouble going through the bridge, which motivated me. I also saw a notification saying "we are at the end of the bridge" so I was prepared for that. I saw my friends, gave them a high five, and picked up my pace probably a bit too much 😅
I felt strong going into Stanley Park, but read about how it could be brutal, and was nervous about my HR being in the high 170s already.

21 - Finish

I was mentally prepared for Stanley Park. I was expecting it to be completely dead, but that was not the case for the first half of the Seawall with the aid and cheer stations. The second-half was definitely quiet, but I had my Shokz on playing some music that was fitting for the scenery (Amenra and Septicflesh). It was a bit hard to pick up the pace as the course was a bit tight but I was able to do so. I saw some bloodshed though; one woman was completely covered in a foil blanket with a vested individual standing over her on his phone, one man on a bench with his arm dangling who may have been unresponsive, with some staff rushing back in his direction after I passed him, and one person who started cramping, moved to the side yelling "Fuck!" I yelled at him "You got his!" but immediately realized that maybe those weren't the right words for someone who was cramping up. Not sure what I should have said, though. I started cramping up a tiny bit, my pump was complaining that my blood sugar was dropping, and so I decided to take a gel because I figured it had some electrolytes, and it had been a half hour since my last one. In retrospect I think perhaps a salt tab would have been more useful, but I didn't want to do anything new on race day, even if I only had just over a mile left.
After we left Stanley Park, I felt fine enough to kick up the pace. I saw my friends during the finish and they got some great pictures of me. I was disappointed at how close I was to not PB'ing but at least I reached that milestone. Finishing strong had me feeling like I was holding back elsewhere during the race.

Post-race

I got my medal and felt fine walking to bag check. I picked up a banana and a bottle of the fancy bottled water on the way. I felt sad passing by the sandwiches I couldn't eat. There were also bags of chips that I feel really stupid for skipping. For some reason I scanned the bag for a GF label, but I found out a week later that the brand they had was gluten-free: the GF logo was on the top left, and for some reason I didn't check there.
I passed by a change tent on the way, so I went back there after getting my bag. I put on my hoodie, while bending down to take off my shoes my right adductor started cramping very intensely. I asked someone who was sitting close to me if I could steal their chair and I sat down. I text my friends letting them know I'm in the tent but had a crazy cramp and so was going to take some time to get up. I munched on the banana I had and took a salt cap that I thankfully still had on me. It felt like it took forever but it was probably only 10 minutes until I was able to stand up and lean against a table again to continue putting on my joggers and sandals. It was raining lightly, which was a bit annoying since I was wearing socks with sandals, but it wasn't too heavy. I met up with my friends, got some pictures, and we headed out.
Unfortunately, one of my friends in the group was made aware on Little Red Book that the Lululemon stores downtown had a deal for that day only to get 20% off our purchase if you show your medal/bib. We ended up going to Lululemon 3 times because I'm bad at saying no, so it took a while to get home. We did go to Nuba in Yaletown for lunch which was really good. That night we went to East is East for dinner, which was nice, though in hindsight I should have realized that the loud music made it not the best choice when what I wanted was to feel relaxed and cozy.
We stayed in Vancouver for an extra week and we flew back on the 12th. It was a wonderful stay and I felt depressed coming back. I wish I could have gone on more hikes and even gone trail running through all the beautiful trails in the area.

Retrospective

• I think I ran too conservatively because I was worried about stomach issues (valid given the morning). I needed more electrolytes, though. Overall the race felt easier than Toronto, so it was frustrating that I didn't get a bit closer to my goal time.
• I also wonder how I would have performed if I ran slower in the first half. I know that's the recommendation, but part of me felt like slowing down on some of the downhills would have required me to adjust my form and engage muscles in a way that could have wasted energy. Something to consider for next time, though.
• I wore half tights this time as I had issues with my shorts falling down too much in Toronto. Surprisingly I had that issue this time too! I guess it's a combination of my race belt weighing my shorts down (maybe I should wear it higher?), the weight of Larabars, phone, and pump in my shorts weighing them down (I'm pretty sure I trained like this though), and me losing over 7 lbs in training that caused this. Not sure what I'll do for the next race beyond do more practice in race gear to see what adjustments I need to make.
• I feel like I didn't do a lot of speed work this time around, and any time I did anaerobic runs my adductor would be very sore, so I need to improve my strength there and really build up my speed again. I also need to focus on how I breathe when working hard instead of worrying about breathing in through my mouth too much. My watch would cancel out speed workouts often times because of my lack of sleep and because of my bike commutes and volleyball sessions, so I need to start planning out my own workouts instead of being too much of a slave to my watch's suggestions.
• I'll stop using Kinvara 13s as speed shoes; I'll wear them for some easy runs maybe, or even transition them to daily walkers/gym shoes. I have the Endorphin Speed 3s for speed work now. I also got a pair of Kinvara 14s from Winners for about $50, and the increased cushioning in them might be less likely to cause excessive soreness after doing fast intervals.
• I liked eating Larabars for energy. I am considering continuing with that and also perhaps making my own gels (mostly maple syrup, ginger, salt, and lemon juice is what I'm thinking, perhaps with some chia seeds or subbing for honey) to bring in reusable containers to reduce waste, perhaps be more appealing to consume even without water, and produce less waste/stickiness. Gels also get pricey, it's annoying that Huma's + gels with electrolytes aren't available locally here, and I figure less refined sources of energy would be better than processed foods.
• I want to do dedicated hill and/or trail workouts; I should set time for myself to bike to an area close by to do those as they are fun and will definitely improve my fitness
• There are a few places in Toronto that do Hot/Cold therapy (Othership and Alter) I've been meaning to check out for almost a year. I need to stop being lazy and shy about it and just go because I think it's something I'll like, although I would probably only go once a month considering how much it costs.
• After my last marathon I felt regret that my legs were sore before the race. I tried to fix that this time but wasn't successful. I guess walking to/from work on Friday, then walking with my luggage to the train station and then walking a lot in the airport to get to the gate contributed to that. I went to the expo the next day intending not to spend too much time there, but I was with a group and the people I was with wanted to spend time at a lot of the tables so I ended up on my feet for longer than I probably should have been. I should probably also review the training I do on the last week and maybe consider not even walking to work or biking around town for errands to try and conserve myself more.
• My sleep habits are shit. I watched the Running Channel's recent video on recovering after the London Marathon and Sarah's watch showed that she would casually get over 8 hours and have a sleep score of 90, which is unimaginable to me 😭. I need to change that and intend to do so immediately.
• On the one hand I should prioritize getting to the start line earlier, but I also want to leave as late as possible to avoid having to depend on a crowded port-a-potty. I think this would not have been an issue if my stomach wasn't upset that morning.
• I want to get a running form analysis done. There are a lot of places around me that offer that service and I can get it partially covered under my physio benefits through work.

Looking Forward

I definitely feel like I can PB by a significant margin if I have more discipline in my training, sleep better, and avoid the race day issues I faced. I am still deciding where to do a Fall marathon though. I am trying to weight between what would be a fun race, what would be a good place to travel to and stay for some time after the race, and what would not be too tough of a course. I'm considering the following so far:

• Loch Ness Marathon
  • + I've seen it recommended here a lot, and the Scottish Highlands look beautiful.
  • + Traveling to Europe is nice because it's easy to travel elsewhere on the continent if I do an extended stay before heading back
  • - International travel could make it harder to have an ideal race day, and reading race reports make me nervous about how I may have to take an early bus and stand around the start line for a long time
  • - I'm not sure how good public transit in the area would be since it's rural compared to big cities. I don't like driving if I don't have to and I don't like to use taxis or rideshare
• St George, UT
  • + Downhill marathon, although I think I would prefer a flat marathon as that seems like it would be technically easier unless the decline was light.
  • + I want to explore the southwest canyons as I've never been and it would be fun to explore the hikes in the area afterwards assuming recovery isn't a problem
  • - Presumably no shade since it's down a canyon
  • - Would need a car to get everywhere. Traveling to this area would be for doing a lot of active things but if I give it my all during a marathon it could feel like an incomplete experience.
• Malaga Marathon
  • + Popular flat marathon
  • + Love Spain, but didn't visit Malaga when I went last year. Lots of gluten free food in the area
  • + It's in December, which gives me a lot of time to train and knock out some half marathons in the meantime
  • - I suck at traveling to places where I don't speak the language due to social anxiety. This could be a good way to help get over that and work on it, though.
  • - It being late means it could be a good candidate for a backup marathon in case a primary marathon doesn't go well for whatever reason
• Victoria, BC
  • + BC is beautiful. I wouldn't have to worry about language barriers, and this is a place I would be down to stay for some time after the race.
  • + The race is well-rated for beauty
  • - While not too difficult, the race has a lot of rolling hills, so it will be mildly technical the whole way through
  • - Maybe too similar to Vancouver? Should I prioritize traveling somewhere else instead of doing another week-long BC trip?

Upcoming local races I'm signed up for are a 10k in June by the waterfront, and a 10k in September on the Toronto Island. I would like to see how close I can get to 40 minutes if I wore my Endorphin Speed 3s. I'm hoping to pick training back up this week, but not ramp up too quickly.
I also want to sign up for trail races because trail running is fun. It's unfortunate how it's hard to participate without relying on a car, though.
I may do the Presidio Half Marathon in San Francisco at the end of June; I was offered free registration so long as I record and upload the race as I did for the San Francisco Marathon; it looks like flights to the area area bit pricey at this time though, so even if I stay with a friend it might be a bit too much right now.
Made with a new race report generator created by herumph.

See Previous Day 5 Here
Note: Posting at this time due to Sora's upcoming morning Minecraft Stream
Tonight at JP primetime of 22:00 JST the girls will be facing off against The Wither. There may be some prep done beforehand so let's see what happens. It could be a real challenge, or it'll be easily defeated in less than 5 minutes.
General Rules for the server. Written by Pekora in the rulebook, with some edits (NOTE: These rules by Pekora may go through some changes, please make sure to check today's Pekora's News Stream for the latest information):

• If you die, its over (Note: Please see revivals below)
• I will write a diary after the broadcast
• Complete the mission
• Nether opening starts on the 16th
• The ultimate goal is to defeat Endora (Ender Dragon) and Wither
• About Survival Diary
  • Write about the events and memories of the day
  • If the content is good, good things might happen
  • Penalty will be incurred if there is no diary
• There are nether and recreational facilities
  • Nether opening date 5/16 JST
  • Recreational facilities 5/15 JST (Chinchiro)
• You are free!
• You may build a residence
• You can equip yourself
• Survive.

Additional Rules and Information:

• Currently (as of this writing) if a member dies in Hardcore and wishes to be revived, they can do so by going to their own Solo Minecraft World, and collect 7 diamonds. They can only be revived once.
  • Confirmed Perma-dead: Subaru, Nene, Haachama, Polka, Lui, Lamy (Note: Lui and Lamy chose to not be revived after their first death).
• Members won't be able to be revived after Day 7
• The server needs 2/3 of its online players sleeping for time to pass to the next morning
• Certain events such as the Pillager Raid will not be given a warning
• You can buy a totem and 5 golden apples from Pekora for 200 diamonds

There are also missions for the server. There are two types: Global and Daily
Global Missions:

• Find a Western Style Mansion in the forest (basically find a Woodland Mansion) - 20 Diamonds
• Find a Jungle Temple - 20 Diamonds
• Find a Pillager Outpost - 5 Diamonds
• Obtain a Trident - 30 Diamonds
• Find Ruins (Most likely meaning Trail Ruins) - 20 Diamonds
• Find a Pyramid - 10 Diamonds
• Find an Ancient City - 20 Diamonds
• Defeat the Boss of an Underwater Temple (This most likely means the Elder Guardians at an Ocean Monument) - 100 Diamonds
• Obtain 10 different dye colors - Diamond amount unknown

Today's Daily Missions:

• Defeat one Enderman - 2 Diamonds
• Obtain Ender Pearl - 5 Diamonds
• Make Golden Apple - 3 Diamonds
• Participate in Wither Battle - 10 Diamonds

Streams:

• Kaela (VOD)
  • Kaela's 2nd Stream (VOD)
• Sora (VOD)
• Miko (VOD)
  • Miko's 2nd Stream (VOD)
• Towa (VOD)
• Iroha (VOD)
• Ina (VOD)
• Pekora's News Stream (VOD)
• Kiara (VOD)
• Anya (VOD)
• Kanade (VOD)
  • Kanade's 2nd Stream (VOD)
• Noel (VOD)
• Pekora (VOD)
• Botan (VOD)
• Aqua (VOD)
• Koyori (VOD)
• Hajime (VOD)
• Ao (VOD)
• Iroha
• Moona (VOD)
• Polka (VOD)
• Raden (VOD)

Members Playing but not streaming today:

• Flare
• Suisei
• Luna

General Notes:

• Sora will be sightseeing the server and mining for diamonds today. She already started and found a good vein of them! She decided after seeing the vein to get her pickaxe updated with Fortune III
• Sora came by to Kaela's Trading Post to get Fortune III and other things. She met with Kaela and the two interacted. Kaela in the meanwhile is working on her villagers. During trading, Kaela sneakily gave Sora some extra Emeralds as she was at the anvil. Not sure if Sora noticed it or not. The other emeralds were used for other weapons/armor.
• Kaela has been busy with lots of things today. She went to the Nether to test out her fire resistance armor (by walking into lava to see how much damage it does, which is not much). She does have fire res potions too to help. She went to hunt for some Ancient Debris. She wants to get at least 20 (enough for a full set + tools). She will have to find a Netherite Template at a Bastion afterwards in order to properly upgrade. Best of luck!
  • EDIT: Kaela did it! She was able to get the stuff and make Netherite armor! Earlier too Kiara had wanted her to get the Netherite Template from her to get some armor (she had originally thought Kaela already had one but turns out she didn't). Kaela didn't want to bring Kiara with her to a bastion in case something bad happened (bad experience with Haachama). Fortunately Kaela was able to go to a bastion and get a template.
  • Also Kaela when talking to
  • Miko accidentally used her Jdon My Bow to repair a random bow and therefore losing it in the process. She told Kaela about what happened and Kaela told her that it would be alright. She then gave her 4 Netherite Templates for her to make her own Netherite Armor, as a way for her to feel Better. Miko now also has Netherite Armor.
• Sora and Miko met up a bit before Miko's stream. Miko told Sora about Lamy and some of the things that happened in the server, along with the plans for the Wither fight today. Miko on her stream has a list of her plan for today.
  • Miko went and got even more Netherite, she gave some to Iroha along with a Netherite Template for Iroha to make her own Netherite Armor (also telling her to make sure to duplicate the template first).
• There's now an ice road, (most likely by Iroha or Kaela), from Kaela's house to Iroha's villagers. Its to make it easier for members to quickly and safely travel between the two places, especially since many members have been going inbetween the two places to trade.
• Since Ina missed yesterday, she's starting a few hours early to catch up and prepare for the wither. She again in MS Paint lays out her plans for today. Ina suspects that she'll be the tank again for The Wither Fight.
• Ina made her own fishing house near the iron farm. She made it so when she fishes the iron can be generated as she fishes.
• Ina and Flare met up in the server. Flare went "Ore no Ina" and then threw her diamonds at her. Ina in surprised couldn't accept a gift so she gave them back. The two proceeded to keep throwing the diamonds back and forth at each other. Eventually Flare went and gave Ina a Potion of Strength and a Golden Apple which Ina accepted. Later on they met again and Flare gave Ina some new boots with better enchantments.
• Kiara went to Kaela's place to upgrade her armor to Netherite. After getting the netherite armor and trims, she wanted to show it off. She went to Pekora to show it to her, though her reaction isn't what she expected. Pekora after reading Kiara's diary actually realized Kiara had netherite armor on, and then asked Kiara to get Netherite for her on stream.
• Anya and Kanade now have a piece of Netherite armor. Each of them have the chestplate.
• A villager moved into Ina's house and became a cleric due to Ina's brewing stations inside. I wonder where the villager came from since the village was empty when people started moving into the houses. Ina trapped the Cleric using Netherack outside of her home.
• After the fight, Kaela and Pekora met up. Pekora asked Kaela where her house was, and Kaela took her over. She showed Pekora the cleric where she can buy Ender Pearls. Pekora also asked Kaela for Netherite but Kaela only had one Netherite Scrap that she gave to Pekora. (Earlier before they went to Kaela's house, Pekora asked and Kaela threathed her with a bow which Pekora responded "its joke"). Kaela also gave Pekora the Netherite Template and said they're best friends now.
  • Pekora went to Aqua and told her about what happened.
• Pekora and Aqua went to the Nether to gather Netherite. They went to where Kiara had been mining for them and continued onward. They are simply strip mining for them. Aqua was able to find 2 already. They found a few before heading back. After they went to gather more materials including TNT, they went back to mine for more Ancient Debris.
  • Pekora actually mentioned she had planned to go to the Ender Dragon fight in only diamond armor, only really getting Ancient Debris for Aqua's sake.
• Polka watched Luna lure pigs to The Farm (Polka and Suisei's farm). However because of the Wither flowers that were planted at the farm, the pigs suffered damage and died.
  • Luna made a tweet saying that she replenished the farm with pigs and chickens.
• Kaela is taking Hajime on a trip into the nether. They went and found Ancient Debris together. Polka watched the two of them for a while.
  • Kaela and Hajime were able to get the Debris they need and get back to the Overworld safely. Kaela asked about Hajime's house and Hajime showed her the house. Its empty and has no roof. They then went to Kaela's house so they can turn the Ancient Debris into Netherite for Hajime.
• It seems like many of the girls are hunting for Ancient Debris to get Netherite after seeing some of the girls today. Current Ancient Debris Hunters: Pekora & Aqua; Hajime & Kaela; Moona; Anya & Kanade (first separate but then together). Koyori joined Anya and Kande in Ancient Debris Hunting too.
• Moona died! While hunting for Ancient Debris in the Nether, some lava fell on her and at that moment, she lost the fire res effect on her, so she died. Polka went to go and find her. Polka and Moona met in the Nether as ghosts.
  • Koyori, Kanade, and Anya went and made a grave for Moona next to the other graves by the portal. Anya wrote R.I.P. Sleep well, Moona"
• Moona decided since she's dead she'll spend the rest of her time commentating on what she sees.
• Koyori and Raden were branch mining separately, and it turns out the two mines were actually pretty close to each other and they both met up. Koyori was actually lost in the mines but Raden ended up finding her by chance. Thanks to Raden's help, Koyori was able to make it out of the mines. Raden is still in the mines hunting for diamonds.
• Ao has been wokring on her own to spruce and clean up the city some more after the destruction of The Wither.
• Iroha and Kaela met up. Iroha asked Kaela if she wanted to go into the Nether to collect Ancient Debris with her. However Kaela had just gotten back from her trip with Hajime and was ready to wrap things up. She told Iroha that she needed to end her stream soon to get some rest (cause she hasnt gotten any sleep since yesterday). Iroha was understanding of it. She went into the mines and met up with Koyori who showed her where to strip mine for Ancient Debris.
  • A little bit after, Hajime and Iroha met up, and the two went to get Ancient Debris together. They're doing it with the strip mining method (with Iroha occasionally using TNT)
• Kanade is now the newest member to be fully decked in Netherite Armor
• Currently Kanade, Iroha, Anya, Hajime, and Koyori are all in the nether gathering ancient debris. Since they're all in the same mine area they can sometimes hear and talk to each other. Iroha has been gathering TNT to help making gathering Ancient Debris a lot faster. Koyori showed Kanade, Anya, and Hajime how she blows up all the TNT in the Nether using redstone and a pressure plate.

Wither Fight Notes:

• Time of Wither Fight: 22:00 JST
• Before the Wither Fight at 21:00 JST the members online will have a meeting to determine the actual location of The Wither Fight. The Meeting is held with Pekora, Kiara, Ina, Kanade, Noel, Botan, Aqua, and Anya.
  • During the meeting Kiara and Ina tell the group their experience in fighting the wither with the EN girls in the Holo Server above ground.
  • Kiara gives a recap of the meeting. Generally they will be fighting it above ground a bit away from the city area. It'll be nearby a village that a few of the girls live at, near the courthouse (Kiara, Anya, and Ina's houses are at most risk of destruction)
  • The Wither will be summoned at the middle of the fighting arena.
• Everyone is busy making preparations, from getting golden apples, to making different potions.
• Everyone is meeting up by the courthouse. Can hear Aqua talking about Miko's armor. Miko, Kiara, and Kaela have a full deck of Netherite Armor
  • Kaela: If the wither comes, ill run. I'll run away and hide
• Members participating in the Wither Fight: Pekora, Kiara, Ina, Kaela, Anya, Noel, Aqua, Botan, Hajime, Moona, Koyori, Ao, Kanade, Miko, Raden
  • Polka will be observing as a ghost
• Ina went to pay her respects at the grave to those who died before this moment. She will bring back the head of her enemies.
• WITHER FIGHT SURVIVED! It went super fast! And no one died. Kiara was tanking a lot of the hits for it! Pekora sees that the Portal got destroyed during the first fight, along with the middle of the arena
• Since it was easy, Pekora now wants the to fight 3 of them. She will spawn them in different locations in the area. Pekora hints they will be located in places where they live.
  • The 3 were Spawned! This time it took a lot longer for all of them to be defeated. Sadly during the fight Iroha died while fighting The Wither, along with the destruction of some houses. Ollie's roof suffered some damage We did lose all the cows and chickens that were at Polka/Suisei's farm. Pekora notes that Iroha can be revived (she does need to do the batsu).
  • Wither flowers were placed in the middle of the two pens in memory. Koyori also placed some flowers like the Sakura Saplings and Sunflowers. The girls are using the dirt that got picked up during the fight to restore the area and clean it back up. And other girls are working to fix some of the damage, like Ina fixing Ollie's house.
  • Noel and Kanade are making a grave in honor of Iroha. Its made of Netherack
• Koyori took one of the Wither Stars and placed it in her house. I dont know where the other Beacon pieces went (There should be 4. 1 From the 1st fight, and 3 from the 2nd fight). Edit: Kaela got 2 of the Stars. The two stars were turned into beacons that are by her house. The beacons are made of diamonds

Collecting Ender Pearls in the Nether Notes:

• Some of the girls are going to go to the Nether to collect enders to make Ender Eye.
  • Members: Kiara, Anya, Noel, Botan, Miko, Hajime, Kanade, Koyori
• Since the portal broke, the girls were trying to light it back up. They kept shooting arrows at it before Miko used a flint to properly light it up
• The girls are able to complete the mission easily with the help of the boat strat. Even if one of the Enderman aggros someone the girls are quickly behind to help out with boats or weapon damage.
• After mission complete a photo of the group was taken.
• On the way back, Kiara and Miko got hit by Piglins cause they forgot to put back on the gold. They were able to survive and make it back home, mission complete!

List of members with full Netherite armor: Kaela, Miko, Kiara, Kanade, Hajime, Anya, Koyori.
Today's Death List:

Hololive Member	Cause of Death	Revival Status
Kazama Iroha	Died during the Wither Fight	Revived
Hoshinova Moona	Lava fell on her in the Nether	Cannot be revived.

​

Bought on launch day (no AppleCare), rarely taken out the house. Was used on my stand holder for 99% of the time.
Great condition, tiny nick above the charging port and that's all I can see for flaws. Includes a genuine smart folio case (a bit beat up).
iPad comes with the original packaging + charger.
$630 shipped paypal. Price is firm for now.
https://imgur.com/a/FcfDxoC
Repairs: None

Not sure if this has been pointed out before, but I'm rewatching Season 1 and just noticed. If you compare the old department photo on everyone's desks (see this post) and the new photo they take with Helly, you can see that the new hire is standing in the same spot (inner left) in both photos. That could be a coincidence on its own, but I actually think the whole order of workplace seniority is the same.
We know Mark and Irving started before Dylan, because they both remember Dylan replacing Carol. Petey started before Mark, since he did Mark's orientation. So in terms of seniority, Petey > Mark > Dylan and Irving > Dylan.
I don't know if there's concrete proof, but it seems like Irving also started before Mark. In Episode 1, Irving tells Dylan that they used to get coffee creamer as an incentive, and Dylan is skeptical. If Mark had worked at MDR longer than Irving, he'd be able to verify the creamer thing, but nobody asks him. (Anyway, John Turturro just radiates "fed up with these dang kids" energy.) So Irving > Mark > Dylan.
I can't find any information about whether Petey or Irving started first, but I would guess it's Petey, since he was the department chief. (If Irving were more senior, that would mean he's been passed over for a promotion in favor of a newer employee, TWICE. Rough.) That makes the order Petey > Irving > Mark > Dylan. After Petey leaves, the order becomes Irving > Mark > Dylan > Helly.
I snagged the picture from u/ProfessorTerrible123's post so I could compare the two photos.
https://preview.redd.it/m0s0yhgsy11d1.png?width=3024&format=png&auto=webp&s=bdc0f78470e7a6fbd6324971fb4d5cbd07ae9bc3
https://preview.redd.it/bd0h74rfg21d1.png?width=1000&format=png&auto=webp&s=21610bbec3915b72536adab88e143327476d2033
(Oh god I turned Severance into an LSAT problem)

I had always remembered my deeply rooted envy at a girl at my old high school. Alyssa Howard, Home Room 207. It hadn't been long since I graduated there. I was in Class of '22, in a homeroom that I simply didn't fit in. It was isolating since everyone in my homeroom was in groups of friends, everyone was their own designated groups.
Alyssa was in the Choir group, consisting of 8 girls. They were girls that were a part of Choir Class, an elective that made no sense why I took it. Along with Alyssa Howard, there was Brianne Becker, Fiona Figueroa, Leslie Smith, Hannah Klidford, Emma Kelly, Mandy Lake, and... Karla Reyes. Karla Reyes was one of them I knew very well. In fact she is the reason why I'm typing this out.
Karla was my childhood friend, we met in 5th grade. Her family was from around Texas, and she recently moved to this small town of Meadows Dale. I didn't have friends at that age since most kids thought I was...well weird. I didn't comprehend why I was weird to them at the time, I just simply thought I wasn't cool enough. I remember vividly that I was walking far from the rusty playground, to a hill that pretty much if going more up north, you'll be at the Centennial Park of the town.
That sunny day in 5th grade felt like it was just yesterday. I was walking up a hill, my Elsa shoes making every step feel like a chore. I sighed, looking down at my shoes, feeling embarrassed that my mom had gotten them for me. All the other kids in my grade were wearing Converse or cool sneakers, and here I was, stuck with sparkly, princess-themed shoes. I flopped down on the grassy ground, feeling like the biggest outcast in the world.
I sat there, lost in my own thoughts, I noticed a girl with dark hair and tan skin walking towards me. She looked a bit nervous, fidgeting with her hands as she approached. I recognized her from my homeroom class.
"Hey," she said, trying to sound casual. "These hills look like a pair of butt cheeks, don't they?" She giggled, and I couldn't help but laugh too.
I signed back to her, using my hands to mimic the shape of hills and then making a silly face to show that, yes, they did look like butt cheeks. Karla laughed, and I was surprised. Not many people in my class knew sign language, and it was nice to have someone to communicate with in my own way.
"Do you know sign language?" I signed, curiosity getting the better of me.
Karla nodded, her dark hair bobbing up and down. "Yeah, my aunt was born deaf, so I learned to communicate with her."
I signed back, asking her if she thought it was cool that I knew sign language too.
Karla grinned. "Yeah, that's really cool! I'm Karla, by the way."
“Lily,” I signed my name, and Karla sat down next to me on the grass. We chatted for the rest of recess, discovering that we had a lot in common. We both loved DreamWorks movies better than Disney, and our favorite music group was Fifth Harmony. I was obsessed with them back then, and Karla was too. We both wanted to be like Camila Cabello when we grew up.
From that day on, Karla and I were inseparable. We'd sit together at lunch, partner up for group projects, and even started a Fifth Harmony fan club in our class. Karla would always lend me an earbud so we could jam out to our favorite songs together. Our friendship was effortless, and I felt like I'd finally found someone who understood me.
It was perfect until the start of Freshman year of Meadows Dale High School. I held my scheduler tightly in my hands as I climbed the stairs to the kitchen, my stomach twisted in knots. My heart sank as I scanned the pages, taking in the fact that most of my classes were designated for students with special educational needs. Homeroom and choir were the only exceptions.
I made my way to the living room where my mom was seated, tears brimming in my eyes. "Mom, why do I have to take these classes?" I signed, frustration etched on my features. "I don't need this kind of help. I can handle regular classes just fine."
My mom looked at the schedule, her expression sympathetic. "I know you don't seem to need help, sweetie, but the school requires you to take these classes. It's just protocol."
I sighed, feeling a wave of frustration wash over me. "I'm going to feel like even more of a freak than I already do," I gestured angrily, trying to hold back tears.
From the living room doorway, my father's deep voice cut through the silence. His ears perked up from the conversation. "Hey, kiddo, what's going on?" he asked, his voice gentle.
I signed again, rapidly gesturing my fingers "I don't want to take Special ED classes, Dad. I can do normal classes. I can hear the teachers very well!"
My dad walked over to us, his eyes scanning the schedule. "I know it's tough, Lily, but the school is just trying to help. Plus, You're not a freak. Not in our eyes, anyway. If anybody gives you trouble, I'll personally see to it that they regret it." His tone was lighthearted, but his meaning was clear. He was the sheriff, after all, and his reputation preceded him.
I rolled my eyes, signing, "Dad, please. You're only making things worse."
Ignoring my pleas, he ruffled my hair affectionately before leaving the room. I retreated to my bedroom, collapsing onto my bed in a heap of tears. The night passed in a blur, and soon enough, it was time for me to wake up and face another day.
I woke up to the sound of my dad calling me from downstairs. "Lily, time to get up! First day of school!" I groggily got out of bed, still feeling the emotional hangover from the night before.
My dad drove me to school in his police cruiser, which only added to my embarrassment. I remembered feeling weird being in the cruiser, with its flashing lights and sirens. As we pulled up to the school, my dad turned to me and said, "No matter what, you'll always have me and Mom, okay? We love you, and we're proud of you."
He hugged me tight, and I felt a lump in my throat again. I nodded, trying to hold back tears, and got out of the car. Finally me into the world of Meadows Dale High School.
The enormity of the building hit me hard as I stepped inside. The halls were bustling with activity, and the noise level was overwhelming. The classes flew by, and I couldn't help but feel like my Special ED classes were too easy for me. The teacher aides were sweet, but they were busy helping other students, leaving me to feel like I was just going through the motions.
As I walked out of my Literature class, I noticed a boy sitting alone next to a locker. He had ginger hair and was a bit overweight, and he was using a big headset to listen to music. There was something about him that drew me in, so I walked over to say hi.
He removed his headphones, looking up at me with a nervous smile. "Hi," he said, his voice a little shaky.
I signed back, "Hi."
He laughed, a little awkwardly. "Sorry if I'm a bit awkward. I'm not really used to talking to people."
I signed, "You're not awkward at all."
He smiled, looking relieved. "Thanks. I'm Matt Weston."
I nodded, signing, "I'm Lily."
Matt's eyes lit up. "Sweet. What's your homeroom?"
"207."
Matt's face brightened up. "No way, that's my homeroom too!"
I smiled, feeling a sense of excitement. "That's amazing!"
Matt stood up, walking towards a bookshelf. "Homeroom's next class. Want to walk with me?"
I nodded, following him as the bell rang. We exited the class, and suddenly we were swept up in a sea of students pushing and shoving to get to their next class.
We finally arrived at class 207, which was already filled with students. I saw Alyssa sitting in the back with her group of friends, looking like a star athlete. Matt went to sit in the front seat, and I sat next to him.
Just as we were settling in, one of the guys from Jr high football, Ryan Peterson, hit a football at Matt, saying, "Can't believe we got 'Butterball' in our class."
Matt rolled his eyes, saying, "At least I don't have a father who cheats and spreads gonorrhea."
Ryan's friend, Warren, said, "Ohhh sick burn,"
Ryan huffed, whispering to Matt, "Just because you're special doesn't mean everybody likes you."
I got mad, flipping Ryan the finger, which made him laugh. "You're lucky I ain't telling the teacher, because I don't want any issues with your old man!" Ryan walked away with Warren, leaving me feeling annoyed.
The homeroom teacher arrived, a young guy in his 20s with cedar brown hair and a pair of glasses. "Hello Students! Like that you are all sitting in neatly placed groups. My name's Mr. James and I'll be your homeroom teacher for Freshmen till Senior Year. Hope you excited as I am!"
Just as he was about to start writing on the white board, a beautifully dressed Karla emerged late, looking older and more mature with a lot of makeup on. I looked up, happy to see her, only for her to not notice me and sit down next to Alyssa's group.
Matt whispered to me, "Do you know that girl?"
I signed, "No."
Matt nodded, looking curious. "She looks familiar, but I don't know her name. Was it Kayla or Karly?"
"It's Karla," I shrugged, feeling a pang of disappointment. It seemed like Karla had moved on to a new group of friends, leaving me behind. I don't know how this change happened, since Karla and I went on a trip to Orlando, Florida, three weeks ago. I thought we had the best of our life's during that trip.
I was stumped, watching from afar as Karla chatted with Alyssa and her friends. I felt a twinge of jealousy and sadness as I realized how easily Karla had seemingly moved on and found a new group to hang out with. I mean, I thought we were best friends. It felt like Alyssa had stolen her from me.
I turned my attention elsewhere, not wanting to dwell on it. That's when I noticed a teenage boy sitting alone a few rows in front of me. He had jet black hair and there was something familiar about him, although I couldn't quite place it. I wondered who he was and why he was sitting alone.
"Hey, Lily," Matt said, following my gaze. "Do you know that guy? He looks kind of like a mini Detective Loomis."
I shook my head, signing that I had no idea who he was, but now I was curious too. Detective Loomis had been a family friend for years, and I knew he had a son, but I hadn't seen him in a while.
Matt chuckled nervously and waved his hand as if to dismiss his own question. "Just wondering. He kind of looks like him, that's all."
Just then, the boy turned around in his seat and our eyes met. He raised an eyebrow, clearly having overheard our conversation. "Yeah, that's my dad," he said, a hint of challenge in his voice. "Why?"
Matt shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearly not expecting such a direct response. "Oh, um, no reason. Just curious, that's all."
The boy, Brandon Loomis, as I now knew him to be, nodded slowly, as if accepting Matt's explanation. Then, to my surprise, he introduced himself with a small smile. "Brandon Loomis. And you are...?"
"Lily Anderson. Nice to meet you, Brandon."
“I'm Matt by the way,” Matt chimed in.
A flash of something—was it pain?—crossed Brandon's face, but it was quickly replaced with a smile. "Nice to meet you both. Your dad's a good man, Lily. He helped me out a lot."
I could only imagine what Brandon had been through. I remembered hearing snippets about his kidnapping a while back, but I had no idea what he must have endured. No wonder he hadn't been in school until now.
"Well, I hope the rest of the year goes well for you," I signed sincerely.
Brandon smiled at me again, and I felt a warm glow spread through my chest. "Thanks, Lily. I hope so too."
As the homeroom continued, Mr. James had us all introduce ourselves and played some icebreaker games to help us get to know each other better. It was actually kind of fun, and it took my mind off Karla and her new friends for a while.
One of the things we had to do was share a fun fact about ourselves. When it was Matt's turn, he revealed that he was the son of Mayor Weston and a great friend of my dad's. No wonder he seemed so familiar! I knew my dad would be thrilled to hear that Matt and I had become friends.
Before I knew it, the homeroom was over, and Matt, Brandon, and I headed out into the hallway together. I was relieved to find out that we all had B lunch, so I wouldn't have to eat alone.
"So, where do you guys usually eat?" Brandon asked as we made our way down the crowded hallway.
"I don't know about Lily, but I usually just grab something from the cafeteria and eat outside," Matt replied.
I signed, "That sounds good to me. I like being outdoors."
Brandon nodded. "Yeah, me too. Although, I usually eat my lunch at Dillard's Diner since I work there after school. You guys should come by sometime. The food's pretty great."
"Definitely!" Matt said enthusiastically. "I love diner food. And hey, maybe we can even help you out sometime if you're short-staffed."
Brandon laughed. "Sure, why not? It can get pretty crazy on the weekends, so any extra hands would be appreciated."
As we made our way to the cafeteria, Matt started talking about his favorite band, Deftones. I had to admit, their music was a little too heavy for my tastes, but Matt was so passionate about it that I found myself getting drawn in.
"You know, you should check out their album 'White Pony,'" Matt said. "It's a classic. My dad actually introduced me to them, and I've been hooked ever since."
I signed with a smile, "My dad's always trying to get me into his favorite bands too. He's a big fan of The Beatles and Queen."
"Oh, those are classics," Brandon chimed in. "My dad's more of a country music guy, but I've definitely grown to appreciate some of the older stuff."
While we ate lunch, I pulled out my sketchbook and started drawing, something I often did when I was feeling nervous or needed a distraction. Matt and Brandon were curious and asked to see my drawings. I showed them some of my anime-style sketches, and they both complimented my work.
"Wow, Lily, these are amazing!" Matt exclaimed. "You're gonna be like Picasso one day."
I signed, feeling my face heat up with embarrassment. "Thanks, Matt. That's really nice of you to say."
Brandon nodded in agreement. "Seriously, you're really talented. I wish I could draw like that."
As lunch came to an end, Matt and Brandon suggested that they walk me to my next class. I was surprised but pleased that they wanted to stick together. My next class was Choir, and thankfully, it was just down the hall.
"So, Lily, do you sing?" Brandon asked as we walked.
I signed, feeling a little self-conscious. "A little. I mean, I really want to sing, but I'm not sure I'm any good."
"Don't be shy, Lily," Matt said with a grin. "I bet you have a great voice."
I felt my face flush again, but I was glad that Matt and Brandon seemed so supportive. As we reached the choir room, I took a deep breath and prepared myself for whatever the class might bring. I slowly pushed open the door to the choir room, unsure of what to expect. The room was dark, but as my eyes adjusted, I could make out the outlines of rows of chairs facing a small stage. The room had a strange beauty to it, with its blue and white color scheme and intricate design carvings. I made my way to an empty chair near the exit, wanting to keep a low profile.
Before long, a flood of girls began to pour into the room, chattering and laughing. I recognized many of them from the Meadows Dale Advanced Academic Program. My heart sank a little as I spotted Brianne Becker, one of the most popular girls in school, deep in conversation with Meg Peterson. They were giggling about some guy they both apparently liked. Brianne's eyes suddenly landed on me, and her smile faded. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, feeling self-conscious under her gaze.
Alyssa entered the room, and the atmosphere seemed to brighten. Brianne's face lit up, and she rushed over to give Alyssa a hug. "I'm so happy you're in this class!" she exclaimed. Alyssa smiled back, her warm hazel eyes shining. I felt a small sense of relief seeing her friendly face.
Following Alyssa were Mandy, Fiona, Leslie, Hannah, Emma, and Karla. They all seemed to be deep in their own conversations, and I felt even more alone. Karla was telling Fiona about getting her nails done, and Fiona was expressing her dislike for acrylics. I stood up and waved at Karla, trying to get her attention. She had been one of my few friends in middle school, but something had changed between us lately.
Alyssa, however, made her way over to me and offered a genuine greeting. "Hi, Lily! It's so great to see you in this class," she said, her eyes sparkling with sincerity. I felt a small smile tug at my lips. At least there was one person here who didn't seem to mind my presence.
Entering through the red velvety curtains of the stage, a woman with brunette hair, who looked to be in her early 40s, emerged from behind the stage. She had an air of enthusiasm about her as she introduced herself as Mrs. Becker, Brianne's mother. I remembered hearing that they were related, and at the time, I had thought it was sweet that a mother and daughter shared the same class.
Mrs. Becker instructed us all to take our seats and explained that this class was for girls only. She then asked each of us to come up on stage and recite the Do-Mi-Re-Fa-So syllables so that she could group us into sections of eight. My heart sank as I realized I would have to sing in front of everyone.
One by one, Mrs. Becker called each girl up to the stage. Some of the girls had okay voices, while others were truly talented. Then it was Brianne's turn. Her voice was like an angel's, a beautiful soprano that filled the room. Fiona and Emma also impressed me with their deep, rich alto voices. Mandy, Leslie, and Hannah had high-pitched, yet well-controlled voices that blended beautifully.
Alyssa and Karla were the last to go, and they both had perfect voices. Alyssa's voice was like honey, smooth and warm. But it was Karla who really stood out. She sounded like a pop idol, her voice clear and powerful. I found myself getting lost in the music, forgetting my worries for a moment.
Then Mrs. Becker called my name, and my heart sank. I nervously made my way up the stairs to the stage, my hands trembling at my sides. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. As I opened my mouth to sing, an awful, screeching noise escaped. My throat instantly sting, as the aftertaste of metallic overwhelmed my mouth. It was so bad that Mrs. Becker immediately cut me off.
"Why are you in this class, Lily?" she asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice.
I looked at her sadly and signed, "I don't know. I didn't choose this class."
Mrs. Becker softened a little, seeing my dejected expression. "Well, you better discuss these matters with a counselor about switching, because there are better candidates out there who want a spot in this class," she said bluntly.
I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment as I made my way back to my seat at the very back of the room. I could feel the eyes of the other girls on me, and I heard their stifled laughter. Karla's laughter rang out the loudest, stabbing me like a knife. Alyssa was the only one who didn't join in, her face a mask of disappointment. I wasn't sure if she was disappointed in me or in the other girls' behavior.
It was next week, I got out of my algebra class heading towards the office. I had to wait till Monday, since during the first few days, my assigned counselor was not available. I was already antsy of finally getting out of that Choir class, I couldn’t deal another day with a class I clearly didn’t fit in. My schedule in my hand, I pulled the door open, being greeted by the smell of freshly baked chocolate chip muffins. Nervousness ran through me, wondering what type of counselor Dr. Wells would be.
The door was wide agape, leading me into the source of that muffin smell. Sitting there on a working desk, was a man typing on his laptop. He looked a bit exhausted, almost to the point that he slumped on his chair. Tilting my head, I nudged on his shoulders, trying to shake him awake. I couldn’t help but feel warmth radiating in my cheeks.
“Huh? Oh, hello there Lily. What brings you here?” Dr. Wells jolted up, probably noticing how close I was to his face. I backed away, sitting down on a red couch next to him.
“I want to change classes please.”
Mr. Wells nodded off, scooting his chair back towards his mahogany desk. He searched up my schedule, turning his laptop to my view. “Oh, I see. In what class do you want to change?”
I nervously let out a breath, as I finally let out what emotions I was holding. “I don’t know why you assigned me Choir, but everyone in that class hates me. I really need that class changed, Dr. Wells.”
I saw my counselor's lip repeatedly twitched a bit, before he gathered his composure. Dr. Wells looked up from his desk, his kind face softening as he saw me. "Lily, I want to apologize profusely for putting you in that situation."
I signed, feeling a little comforted by his words. "It's okay. I did want to be in that class, but I just... I felt so out of place with all the other girls laughing at me."
Dr. Wells sighed and rubbed his temple. "I'm truly sorry, Lily. I was told you loved music and thought you would enjoy the class. But it's clear that it wasn't a good fit. Do you have another class in mind that you'd like to take instead?"
I nodded and signed, "Art class. I heard my friend Brandon is taking that, and I've always loved drawing."
Dr. Wells typed something into his laptop. “Consider it done. I'll have the change processed by tomorrow, if not sooner. In the meantime, help yourself to a muffin. The library teacher made them for me, and they're delicious."
I smiled and took one of the muffins, taking a bite. "Are you and the library teacher... a thing?" I asked, feeling a little bold.
Dr. Wells laughed, a deep, hearty sound that filled the room. "No, no, nothing like that. Just colleagues. She knows I have a sweet tooth, so she often shares her baking creations with me."
I felt a wave of relief wash over me. It was probably one of the few times I'd developed a crush on someone, and as usual, it was harmless and something I'd get over quickly. Dr. Wells was one of those crushes indeed. I stood up from my chair, feeling much better than when I arrived. "Well, thank you, Dr. Wells. I better head to class soon."
Dr. Wells smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Of course, Lily. And remember, if you ever need someone to chat with, my door is always open."
Later that day, during lunch, I made my way to our usual table with Brandon and Matt. They were already deep in conversation about their morning classes.
"PE is a nightmare," Matt was saying. "All the athletes make fun of me because I'm not as fast or strong as they are. It's frustrating."
Brandon nodded sympathetically. "I heard you beat Ryan on the pacer test, though. That's impressive."
Matt shrugged, taking a bite of his apple. "It was just luck, honestly. Ryan got too cocky and sprained his knee on the seventy-ninth lap. I just kept a steady pace.”
I signed to Matt, "You should still be proud. I bet your dad was happy."
Matt smiled. "He was. It's not every day I get to impress him, especially when it comes to sports. You know how Mayor Weston was a star athlete back in his day."
I laughed, and then took a bite of my sandwich. "Speaking of impressing people, I have some news. I'm switching out of choir class and into art elective. Hopefully, I'll be in the same class as you, Brandon."
Brandon's face lit up. "That's great! I'm so glad you'll be joining us. Art class is a lot of fun.”
Matt nodded in agreement. "I'm happy for you, Lily. But why are you leaving Choir? I thought you loved singing."
My smile faltered, and I looked down at my lap. "It's just... it's not the right fit for me," I signed.
Matt frowned, chewing on his apple. "Is Mrs. Becker too mean? I've heard she can be hard on students who aren't part of the popular crowd."
"No fair," I signed, my eyes pleading with him to understand.
Brandon nodded. "It really isn't fair, Matt. That's why I prefer to keep a low profile. Popularity contests aren't worth the hassle.”
Just then, I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I turned to see Karla standing there, a sad look on her face. "Lily, can I talk to you?" she asked, her voice soft and hesitant.
I hesitated, signing, "Why?”
With a strand of hair tucked behind her ear, she leaned in and whispered, "I want to talk to you in private."
I glanced at Matt and Brandon, signing, "I'll be back, okay?"
Matt nodded, his eyes curious. "We'll be here. Take your time."
I followed Karla to the girl's bathroom, my heart pounding in my chest. I wasn't sure what this was about, but I sensed it was important to her. Once we were inside, Karla pulled out a juul vape from her pocket and took a hit. The sweet smell of watermelon filled the air.
"Want a hit?" she offered, holding it out to me.
I was curious, so I signed, "Sure."
I took a cautious drag, expecting to choke, but surprisingly, I didn't. Karla laughed, "I guess you already know how to smoke. Not so innocent after all, huh?"
I rolled my eyes. "I learned from watching Effy in Skins. It's not like I've never seen it before."
Karla laughed again, a genuine sound that seemed to break through the tension between us. "Look, Lily, I wanted to apologize for what happened in the choir. I shouldn't have laughed. It was mean, and I'm sorry."
I stayed silent, unsure of how to respond. A part of me wanted to accept her apology, but another part was still hurt by her earlier behavior. Before I could say anything, Karla cut in, "I know it doesn't make up for it, but I want to make it up to you. How about I take you to the skating rink this evening? It's one of our favorite places, remember?"
I hesitated, considering her offer. Finally, I signed, "Okay, I guess."
Karla's face lit up, and she gave me a quick hug. "Great! I'll text you the details. See you later, okay?" And with that, she left the bathroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I walked back to the cafeteria, my mind racing. Matt rushed over to me, his eyes full of questions. "How did it go? What did she want?" he asked.
"It went okay," I replied, signing as I continued. "Karla invited me to the skating rink this evening."
Brandon's eyebrows furrowed. "I don't know, Lily. Karla hangs out with those choir girls. I don't think we can trust her, especially after what happened."
I bit my lip, understanding his concern. "What if I sneak you and Matt in too? That way, if anything goes south, we'll be together."
Matt's eyes lit up. "That's a brilliant idea! I'm in."
A small smile tugged at my lips. "It's settled, then. We're going skating."
That afternoon, I waited on the porch for Karla to pick me up. The sun was starting to set, casting a warm glow over everything. My dad emerged from the house, dressed in his sheriff's uniform. "Why are you wearing your uniform on your day off?" I asked, curious.
He chuckled, patting my back. "Got called into work. Something strange is going on. Don't worry, I'll be fine."
I signed, "Be safe, Dad."
“I will, honey. Have fun with Karla, okay.” He smiled and gave me a thumbs-up before heading off. A minute later, a black Chevy pulled up, and I recognized it as Mrs. Becker's car. Karla leaned out the window and waved me over.
I took a deep breath and climbed into the back seat. Besides Karla, there were a few other girls from the choir class—Mandy, Hannah, Emma, Leslie, Fiona, and Brianne. Alyssa was noticeably absent.
Noticing my curious glance, Karla explained, "Alyssa had track practice. She couldn't make it."
I signed, "That's nice."
Brianne turned to Mrs. Becker and asked, "Can we get some McDonald's shakes? Please?"
Mrs. Becker smiled. "Of course, sweetie. Does anyone else want one?"
Everyone nodded eagerly, and Mrs. Becker placed an order for nine shakes. Emma and Leslie wanted vanilla, Brianne wanted the seasonal spice pumpkin flavor, Hannah and Fiona requested strawberry, Karla and Mandy chose chocolate, and Mrs. Becker asked about my preference.
"Mint, please," I said, making a gesture of a mint leaf.
Mrs. Becker smiled. "Mint it is. Anything for my girls."
I felt a warm glow spread through me. Maybe, just maybe, they were starting to like me. I took a long sip of my mint shake, savoring the cool, refreshing taste.
"Chocolate is definitely the best flavor," Mandy declared, taking a sip from her own shake. "Nothing beats the classic."
"Pumpkin spice is where it's at," Brianne interjected, taking a sip of her pumpkin spice shake. "It's got that perfect blend of sweet and spicy. It's like autumn in a bite."
"Are you kidding?" Mandy scoffed. "Chocolate is timeless. It's the ultimate comfort food. Pumpkin spice is just a fad.”
"Oh c'mon! Pumpkin spice is leagues better," Brianne retorted. "It's a limited edition for a reason."
The other girls joined in, each defending their favorite flavor. I snickered at their playful bickering, feeling a sense of warmth despite the earlier tension.
About ten minutes later, Mrs. Becker pulled into the parking lot of a magenta-colored building. The girls piled out of the car, and I followed them inside, curious about our destination. Mrs. Becker turned to Brianne and said, "I'll pick you girls up at 8 pm sharp. I need to head home and take care of your little sister."
Brianne gave her mom a quick hug and yelled out, "Okay! Love you, mom!" Then she joined the choir group, whispering something in Karla's ear that made her smile in an unsettling way.
Karla walked over to me and whispered, "Hey, Lily, I want to take you to our hiding spot. It's been a while since we hung out there."
I brightened at the idea, signing, "I've missed that place. We used to act like it was our studio booth."
“Uh-huh,” Karla led me to an abandoned janitor's closet that was blocked off with a "Do Not Enter" sign. She opened the door, and I slid inside, feeling a rush of nostalgia. I slid inside the small, dimly lit closet and sat criss-cross on the floor, my heart racing with anticipation. Karla joined me, and for a moment, we just sat there, our knees touching, the silence comfortable between us.
"I've missed you, Lily," Karla signed, her expression softening.
"I've missed you too," I signed back, my heart warming at the sentiment. "It feels like it's been ages since we really talked." I looked down, my smile fading slightly. "I've missed the old Karla. The one who was always on my side, no matter what."
Karla furrowed her eyebrows, her face a mask of confusion. "What do you mean? I haven't changed, Lily. I've just matured."
I scoffed, shaking my head. "Matured? Making fun of someone less popular than you isn't mature, Karla. It's just mean spirited."
Her eyes widened at my words, and I could see the hurt flash across her face. "I haven't been making fun of you, Lily. I—"
"Yes, you have," I interrupted, my anger bubbling to the surface. "I know exactly what you and your new friends have been trying to do. You've been pretending I don't exist, like I'm not even worth acknowledging.”
Karla's face contorted with frustration. "That's not true, Lily! You always have to make everything about your disability. If anyone's changed, it's you. You used to be so happy, always laughing and joking around. Now, you just cry and complain when things don't go your way."
I signed angrily, my hands moving frantically. "How can you say that, Karla? I don't mind if you want to be more popular, but you're acting like you don't even know me. You're trying to pretend we're not friends."
Her eyes filled with tears, and her voice shook. "Maybe I don't want to be friends with you anymore, Lily. Maybe you're too held up in the past, too stuck in your own little world. You're a sad, pathetic sap, and I—"
Before she could finish her sentence, I punched her squarely in the face. The force of the blow knocked her back, and she stumbled, her hand flying to her nose.
"I wish I'd never met you, Karla!" I angrily figured my fingers around, my breathing being audible in the small space. "I wish you'd never been my friend! I wouldn't care if you dropped dead right now!"
Karla's eyes widened in shock, and tears began to stream down her face. Without another word, she turned and ran out of the janitor's closet, leaving me alone in the dimly lit space. I trembled as I crouched down in the corner, my heart pounding in my chest. I had never hit anyone before, and now I wished I could take it back. It was rather immature of me to end that way with Karla. Especially when this was the last memory I had of her alive.
Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream pierced the silence, freezing me in place. It was Karla. My eyes widened in horror as I realized what I had done. I rose to my feet and ran out of the closet, my heart pounding in my chest. As I turned the corner, I came face to face with a masked man. He was tall and imposing, his mask was painted like a 1940s woman with green eyeshadow, vibrant red blush, and blood-red lips. His copper-blonde wig fell in sleek waves, contrasting with his all-black suit.
The man walked slowly towards me, his gloved hand reaching out. I kicked him in the abdomen, my fear fueling my strength. But he was too strong. He grabbed me by the waist, his gloved finger pressing against my lips.
"My little flower, I am so happy to see you." he whispered, his voice deep and gravelly.
Before I could scream or struggle, he covered my mouth with a rag. It took a while for the chloroform to finally take effect, as I remembered my last thoughts were about Karla. Sometimes I wished this encounter was just an elaborate prank played by Brianne. However it is never the case.
When I woke up, I woke up to the sound of a girl's voice, soft and melodic. My eyes felt heavy, my body sluggish as I tried to lift my head. The singing was familiar, reminding me of Karla. My heart stirred at the memory of my friend, and I tried to shake off the grogginess that clouded my mind.
As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I realized I was restrained to a bed, my wrists and ankles bound. Panic surged through me, and I struggled against my bonds, my heart racing.
The singing continued, and I finally located the source—a television mounted on the wall across the room. My eyes widened as I recognized the singer. It was Karla, her face bruised and beaten, her eyes closed as she sang "Once Upon a December" from the animated movie "Anastasia." Her voice was shaky but serene, and tears pricked my eyes as I watched her performance.
I opened my mouth to scream, but only a weakened screech escaped my throat. I tugged at my restraints, desperation fueling my strength. I had to get out of here. I had to help Karla.
Catching me off guard, the door swung open, and the masked man from my encounter at the janitor's closet stepped into the room. My heart sank at the sight of him, and I shrunk back against the bed, my breath coming in short gasps.
He carried a plate of applesauce, his gloved hands setting it down on a table by the bed. "Good morning, my little flower," he said, his voice deep and distorted by the mask. "Your friend has a lovely voice," he remarked. "Have you ever wanted to sing like that?”
I shook my head, my eyes never leaving his face. I mouthed the words, "Let her go.”
The Masked Man smiled sadly. "Your friend has been let go. Don't worry, she's no longer suffering.”
I wanted to scream, to demand that he release me, but my voice failed me. The masked man approached the bed, his eyes cold and unfeeling. He picked up the spoon and dipped it into the applesauce, then brought it to my mouth.
"Open up, sweetie," he cooed. "You need to keep up your strength."
I turned my head away, my body rigid with fear. I didn't want his help, I didn't want anything to do with him.
"Now, now, none of that," he chided, his gloved hand gently tilting my chin back towards him. "You need to eat. And one day, my little flower, you will sing too. And it will be the most beautiful voice anyone has ever heard."
Tears slipped down my cheeks as he forced the spoon into my mouth, the applesauce tasting bitter on my tongue. I choked down the food, my throat constricting with fear and anger.
The masked man set the plate down and pulled me into a tight embrace, his gloved hands stroking my hair. "Shh, my little flower. Everything will be alright. I'm here to take care of you."
I sobbed into his chest, my body shaking with grief and terror. I had no idea where I was, no concept of how much time had passed since I had been taken. All I knew was that Karla was in danger, and I was powerless to help her. The masked man held me until my sobs subsided, then gently laid me back down on the bed. "Rest now. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow."
With that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I closed my eyes, my mind reeling. The next time I woke, it was to the sound of my mother's sobs. I blinked groggily, my vision blurry as I tried to focus. I was in a hospital room, my mother sitting by my bedside, her face wet with tears. Matt and Brandon, my closest friends, were also there, their faces etched with concern.
"Mom?" I raised one of my hands, my fingers weak and stiff.
My mother's head snapped up, and she rushed to my side, her hands grasping mine. "Lily, oh, Lily, you're awake!" She smiled through her tears, her voice shaking. "I thought I'd lost you.”
I placed my palm to touch her cheek, my throat too dry to speak. Matt and Brandon stood by silently, their eyes filled with relief.
I then asked the big question, signing, "What... happened?"
Matt nervously stuttered, "We... We found you inside an old shed near the skating rink. You were... you were unconscious, and we called for help right away."
Brandon added, "Before that, you were missing for roughly 33 hours. We searched everywhere for you.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, unable to meet my gaze.
"You're safe now, Lily," my mother said, stroking my hair. "That's all that matters. There's nothing to worry about anymore."
I shook my head, my eyes flying open. Where was Karla? I signed, "Where's Karla?”
My mother's face crumpled, and fresh tears slid down her cheeks. "She's... she's still missing, Lily. We don't know where she is."
I closed my eyes, the weight of my guilt crushing me. If I hadn't fought with Karla, none of this would have happened. It was my fault she was still out there, alone and in danger.
The days turned into weeks, and Karla remained missing. The police conducted an extensive search, but there were no leads, no clues as to her whereabouts. I blamed myself, replaying the events of that fateful day over and over in my mind.
Three weeks after my rescue, the news channel delivered a devastating blow. Karla Reyes, aged 15, had been found dead, her body buried near the Yellow Rock River. She had suffered multiple bone fractures, and the unsettling detail—she had been missing her vocal cords and larynx.
I recalled the day vividly, the sun shining brightly through my hospital window as the news anchor delivered the grim update. I had broken down, sobbing uncontrollably, the reality of what had happened hitting me like a ton of bricks. I remember wanting to just die, to pay for what I have done. If I hadn't had my friends Matt and Brandon, I wouldn't have been alive writing this. And yet, I never told anyone about The Masked Man or what had transpired that day—until now. Sometimes I wonder if Karla could hear my prayers, wishing that she deserved better than this, and I'm sorry for causing her death. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I needed to say next.
Karla Reyes may have been the first victim, but she certainly wasn't the last. There were 7 more Choirs Girls left.

Ok so the backlash on the new app really has me sitting here confused. I was ready to join everyone and hate the app now too, but I don’t. And I realize it’s because I think I’m using Sonos to a fraction of its capabilities. People’s posts and comments talking about things I didn’t even know about or think you would be able to do has me wondering what all I’m missing out on?
So for context: Back in 2021 my husband and I were in IKEA and noticed the bookshelf speakers. We had heard good things about Sonos through friends of friends, and I got excited at the price. We hummed and hawed and eventually ended up ordering one online, and then quickly ordered two more. At that time I just used AirPlay but thought it was SO COOL I could use the app to either have the same music playing in different rooms at different volumes, or different music in each room.
Next product we bought was the Roam; I thought holy crap it ALSO has Bluetooth so we can integrate it with our other speakers at home but also use it on the go. SOLD.
I found myself constantly exploring the Sonos website, trying to scratch an itch of an addiction that has slowly taken over my life because I’m a huge music junkie and this was fantastic. Of course my husband is on board because a) he thinks it’s pretty cool too, and b) he loves when I’m happy and excited about things. We end up with two more bookshelf speakers and a soundbar for our rec room TV, cheaply building us a what we would argue a pretty alright surround sound system if you’re not picky.
So now we’re hooked even more. We can’t decide between the Move to utilize on our deck by the pool in the summer and inside in the winter, or the Sub Gen 3 to go along with our new rec room set up, so we end up buying both because fuck it.
One day (before we expanded our system too much) I had played music through the app (Apple Music account) and discovered upon leaving the house and coming home that the music was STILL playing. At the time we had my husbands sister and his friend living here, so I thought someone was punking me. I assumed the app was similar to AirPlay in the sense that it would disconnect when the phone wasn’t around. NOPE. How freaking cool. Then I started leaving music on for the cats during the day while we were at work. 🤟🏻
Another time, I discovered crossfade, a function that Apple hadn’t had yet but I LOVED, and it does so seamlessly almost every time. So I from that point forward I would only use the Sonos app to access my Apple Music library (I REALLY wish this was integrated slightly better).
Fast forward the last week or so and every post on here has a negative title so I read it and I find things like people using their hard drives to access their music library from years ago. What???? I have several external hard drives with music downloaded from waaay back when people were still doing that. Are people still doing that? So anyways, how does this hard drive thing work? What else don’t I know about Sonos? What else are y’all doing with your systems?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m pissed that they removed the add to queue function and that the move and roam battery life is buried now, but I never used timers or alarms so the app isn’t overly disappointed.

I've been lead down a rabbit hole with ai chat bots and the use of (or lack of) censorship on the bots. It's very wrong and I know it's not up to appstore policy but I'm wondering if it's legal and if action should be taken I can provide more if anyone has any ideas the app I'm specifically talking about here is the chai app which is on both Google and Apple app stores.
If anyone has any ideas or could give me any legal sources or laws that would cover this sort of thing that would be excellent.
I'm sorry for anyone that misunderstood the bot itself can be a minor and it is completely possible for you to have nsfw situations with said minor