Washington Journal: May 19, 2024

7:00 thru 10AM. Every. Single. Day.
"Join us with your calls and comments on social media as we review the latest news headlines out of Washington." The Washington Journal is C-SPAN's early-morning news show--with some body heat. During the 'Public Forum' segments, viewers are invited to participate by phone-in or social media. (BTW, getting yourself on the air entitles you to special flair; just come back to the thread and boast!)
Variety is the hot-sauce of life. Besides, we dig the calls.

Today's Guests:

Talmage Boston discusses his book, "How the Best Did It: Leadership Lessons From Our Top Presidents and Dmitri Alperovitch discusses his book, "World on the Brink: How America Can Beat China in the Race for the Twenty-First Century."

Line-up: with links to the individual segments where you might check a real-time transcript, create clips (Show us yours to get special flair!) or watch/share individual segments. This page is viewable a bit ahead of time.
Home page: The 'just press play' page gets going at 7am sharp with no previews or running transcript.
Cable:
C-SPAN 1: (Use your provider guide for channel line-up.) Good for a co-watch with Mom. Ring her up! Have her turn on her set; that it's this or no calls at all. :)
Audio only:
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Extra:
C-SPAN Wiki

As the last rays of summer sun faded into dusk, I stood at the threshold of a new chapter, my heart racing with anticipation and a touch of apprehension, as I prepared to embark on my first day as a senior in high school. The familiar scent of freshly cut grass mingled with the crispness of autumn in the air, signaling the end of carefree days and the beginning of a journey filled with new challenges and opportunities. With my backpack slung over my shoulder and butterflies fluttering in my stomach, I took a deep breath, ready to step into the halls of academia, where friendships would deepen, memories would be made, and the path to my future would unfold before me. As I walked down the main hallway to my first period class, a girl I had never seen before bumped into me, as she was walking hurriedly down towards the cafe. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed, as she bent down to pick up one of my binders. “Watch where you’re going, good God.” I huffed back. “Geez… it was an acc-“ I cut her off- “You look familiar… have I met you somewhere before?” “Umm. I don’t think we’ve ever met before. Maybe you should get your vision checked.” she replied back, annoyed. “Whatever, asshole.” I sighed. “Excuse me?” She said, raising an eyebrow.” I could’ve sworn I had seen her somewhere before… maybe I was losing it. “Look, this is going to sound really, really weird, but in the near further, you’re going to be asked to play a game. You HAVE to say no, or really bad things are going to happen…” I took a step back, looking the girl up and down. “You sound schizophrenic. I’m going to class.” I said, turning back towards my classroom door. As I turned to walk away, her words echoed in my mind, a strange sense of foreboding creeping over me. But dismissing it as nonsense, I pushed through the classroom door, eager to start the day and put the strange encounter behind me. The day passed in a blur of introductions, syllabi, and catching up with friends. Yet, despite my attempts to shake off the odd encounter, the girl's warning lingered in the back of my thoughts like an unsettling whisper. As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, I found myself retracing my steps through the bustling halls. Glancing around, I caught sight of the mysterious girl disappearing into a throng of students.Curiosity gnawed at me, and against my better judgment, I followed her, weaving through the crowd until I spotted her slipping into a secluded corner of the school courtyard. Approaching cautiously, I cleared my throat, "Hey, um, sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to come off as rude." She turned to face me, her expression guarded yet somehow relieved. "It's fine," she said, her tone softening. "I understand. It's not easy to believe something so... unbelievable." I frowned, puzzled by her cryptic words. "What do you mean?" Taking a deep breath, she met my gaze squarely. "I know this sounds crazy, but I need you to listen to me. That game I mentioned earlier—it's real. And it's dangerous. People are disappearing, and I think... I think you're next." My heart skipped a beat as her words sank in, sending a chill down my spine. "What do you mean I'm next?" “I have to go. It’s Friday, I need to go pick up my little brother from school. We can talk on Monday… just, trust me.” She said, rushing towards the parking lot. As the days passed, I found myself haunted by the girl's warning, the memory of her urgent plea lingering like a ghost in the back of my mind. But try as I might to push it aside, the sense of impending doom only grew stronger with each passing moment, a shadow looming ever larger over my once-ordinary life. Sunday morning rolled around, and I was still as anxious as ever, when suddenly an option appeared in front of me. “Would you like to play Truth or Dare?” It read. I sat there for a second, absolutely dumbfounded, thinking I had completely lost it. The two options, lingering in front of me. If I were to complete all of the dares and truths, I would win.. whole million dollars!? “The dares couldn’t be that bad, especially for a million dollars, right?” I thought to myself, hovering the “yes” option. As the option appeared over her head, my heart pounded in my chest, a sickening sense of dread settling over me like a suffocating blanket. But as the stakes grew higher and the dares more dangerous, I found myself unable to resist the lure of the prize dangling just out of reach. One by one, I completed each dare. Confessing my love to my crush, licking a toilet bowl, chugging a bottle of vinegar… everything seemed, moderately alright.. the thrill of the challenge mingling with the gnawing fear that clawed at the edges of my mind. But as the night wore on and the dares grew increasingly sinister, I began to realize the true cost of my greed. Although, I had more important things on my mind. Friday once again rolled around, and the most popular guy in our school, Jackson, had invented me to his house party. This was absolutely a dream come true, but, how was I supposed to tell my mother I was going to a random frat boys party? As 6:00pm rolled around, I grabbed my keys and told my mother I was going to a movie with my friends. As she was about to reply, a new option for Truth or Dare showed, stating, “tell your mother where you’re really going.” At this point, I knew I was screwed. “Are you sure?” My mother asked. “Actually, I was invited to a party by Jackson, the new football teams quarter back.” I said, shuffling my feet. “Do you think I’m crazy? Absolutely not, you are staying home tonight!” My mother shouted back. Maybe it was for the better, after all, mother knows best, right? As 8:00 rolled around, I was sitting on my bed reading, as a new dare showed. “Sneak out and go to the party.” It read. “Well… shit. I’m screwed either way, at this rate.” I muttered, taking the screen off of my window. I grabbed my keys from my desk, and climbed out into the fresh, cold air. I made it to the party about 15 minutes later. As I took my boots off, and walked through the front door, I noticed my friend Samantha sitting next to Jackson with a group of others, drinking out of shiny, red cups. Jackson came up to greet me, handing me a strange smelling concoction. “Here, I’m sure you’ll like this!” Jackson said, cheerfully. “I’m sorry.. I’m not much of a drinker. It’s not good for you.” I stated, slightly uncomfortable. “Oh come on… look, everyone’s drinking! This is my special, everyone loves this. It has extra lime in it!” He yelled back, trying to make himself heard over the loud music playing from a speaker in the kitchen. “Alright… just a few sips, I guess.” I said, shyly taking the cup from his hand. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all, it was quite citrusy, and I love sour things. As the night went on, I continued to drink the mysterious beverages from Jackson. All seemed fine, until around 11:45pm. In a blur of flashing lights and pounding music, it happened. Someone spiked my drink, sending me spiraling into darkness as my world shattered into a million jagged pieces. When I awoke, disoriented and groggy, I found myself trapped in a nightmare of my own making. Bound to a small wooden chair, surrounded by four other girls, each one bearing the same haunted expression of terror etched into their pale faces. As the reality of our situation sunk in, a cold wave of despair washed over me, the harsh truth of my actions crashing down around me like a tidal wave. And as I stared into the darkness, the option still hanging over my head like a cruel taunt, I knew that the game was far from over. But as the hours stretched into days, and the terror of our captivity threatened to consume us whole, I clung to the fragile hope that somehow, someway, we would find a way to escape the nightmare that had become our reality. The only times we had seen the light of day, was when Jackson brought food and water down to us. And as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, we fought tooth and nail against the forces that sought to break us, forging bonds of strength and resilience that would carry us through the darkest of nights. And though the scars of our ordeal would never fully heal, we emerged from the depths of hell stronger than we ever thought possible, united in our determination to reclaim our lives and rewrite our own destinies. As the days stretched on in our captivity, each one blurring into the next in a haze of fear and uncertainty, a glimmer of hope appeared on the horizon in the most unexpected way. One day, as I sat huddled in the darkness, my mind drifting back to the events that had led me to this nightmare, a strange option materialized before my eyes, shimmering like a mirage in the desert of my despair. "Lifeline, Time travel: Go back to the first day of school," it read, its words pulsating with an otherworldly glow that seemed to beckon me closer. For a moment, I hesitated, the weight of my past mistakes bearing down on me like a crushing weight. But as I stared into the depths of the option before me, a flicker of determination ignited within me, burning bright against the darkness that threatened to consume me whole. With a trembling hand, I reached out and pressed the option, the world around me fading into a swirling vortex of light and color as time itself seemed to bend and warp around me. Within in the blink of an eye, I found myself standing once again at the threshold of a new chapter, the familiar sights and sounds of the first day of school washing over me like a balm for my weary soul. “Wait a minute” I thought to myself. “Isn’t it that in all of those time travel movies, doesn’t your past self seeing your future self create some sort of paradox? Or singularity? Or the end of life as we know it…?” I knew then I had to disguise myself before approaching my past self. As I put on glasses, and changed my clothes in the locker room, I scurried around trying to find some sort of hat. “Ugh, finally!” I exclaimed, grabbing a beanie that was left is someone’s open locker. “I have to go find myself.” I said, bolting out of the locker room door. As I ran through the halls, I had accidentally bumped into a girl, walking the opposite direction of me. As I apologized profusely, bending over to hand her one of her purple binders, she looked at me puzzled. “Wait a minute, have I met you before?” My heart sank. “Umm. Maybe you should get your vision checked.” “Whatever, asshole.” She muttered under her breath.

Hi all, I’m from the UK and I dont really understand when Eden resets.
I know it resets on Sunday but I don’t know if it resets on Sunday for the UK - as the furniture shop and daily quests don’t update until 8am on the day for us.
I’ve tried to understand PDT/UTC etc but it’s all just letters and numbers to me so if anyone can help I’d really appreciate it!! :))

Recently I’ve attended one of the seminars for an insurance company just out of curiousity after I was invited and their speakers are mostly already well off agents in their 7th to 10th year.
Hence I feel like it was easy for them to promote the idea of becoming an FA but I’d like to hear stories from those who have just started out.
What did the people in your life think when you finally became one?
Did you burn any bridges?
Are you struggling to sustain your life?

I was recently having a debate with a friend. He is a native speaker of mandarin & cantonese, and while I am a native english speaker. The essence of our discussion was whether or not character based languages innately improve a speakers memory vs alphabet based languages?
Their argument (for) was that this was the same topics such as the argument with Japanese blue v Green & perception. Language you learn affects the way your brain operates, so it is by itself a possible claim. Expanding on this, the number of characters you need to know for fluently engaging in society is significantly larger than the number of letters you need to know. He argued that if you forget a word you can sound it out & guess the meaning from its root and prefixes/affixed. He additionally brought up memorizing stroke order (but my counter there, that stroke order is fairly consistent across characters & intuitiveh
I argued against, as we don't read words one letter at a time anyway. It is remembering whole words, and to that end his own argument (remembering root words, prefixes, etc.) not only makes it comparable to mandarin, but in my opinion the Chinese radical system actually makes it easier to guess the meaning of a new character (at least in traditional) compared to english. Additionally I think the comparison to the "blue/green" studies is unfair - this feels to be a better example of nature v nurture. Does something about being a character based language speaker improve your memory, or does the fact that their (in china) education system emphasis memorization (poetry recitation, etc) lead to it.
That is a huge oversimplification of our discussion it was multiple hours. But the gist is, is there something about chinese & other character based languages that make their speakers better at remembering things?

Hey everyone! Random Appalachian here. I just wanted to check back in with you all and provide some updates, as well as some exciting, if personal, news. I have to type this quick, as my work break ends soon, so pardon any typos, grammatical errors, or weirdly structured sentences.
For those of you who don’t know, I’m a park ranger in real life, and work at a wildlife reserve in Ohio. We’ve been having some issues with vandalism in our northern woods for a few months, and despite our best attempts, haven’t been able to find the culprit. It’s been immensely frustrating, especially when more paint has shown up on more trails, ranging from slashes, lines, and crosses, to dots and even letters. Normally we wouldn’t get too bent out of shape over a few trees being painted, but it’s well over 60 at this point, and widespread throughout the forest. None of the official people who help us maintain the trails in that area say they are responsible, and yet many of the markings seem to be blazes for trails. However the markings are at times absurdly close together, or in abstract places that make no logical sense. One “trail” is no more than perhaps 30 yards long and runs right along a massive clearing in a semi-circle, within plain sight of the clearing, and goes to nowhere; it goes into the woods, and pops back out into the clearing only 30-ish yards away. Most of our established trails that have been painted already have well-made trail markings of our own, and the trails are well-blazed. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to why these things are there at all. I don’t think it’s anything sinister, though the painter has left his/her paint cans in the woods before, so at the very least, they’re a litterbug. There is the concern about potential poaching, which can be a problem in our area. Sure, deer and turkey are commonplace in my rural community, but they are only that way because of conservation and game laws that keep populations intact. Local hunters play a big part in conservation, and if someone starts taking more than their fair share through poaching, that means less for everyone else, and upsets the balance of things. The sad thing is, unlike legal hunters who often hunt for meat for their families, (food is expensive nowadays) poachers usually do it for trophies, antlers, or ‘fans’ from the turkey tail-feathers. But our painter has yet to take any game to our knowledge. We’ve found no gut piles, blood, or discarded gear anywhere. So, if he’s not poaching . . . what on earth does he want?
Then a few weeks ago, we did find a camera inside our central perimeter.
To put this into perspective, we have roughly 10,000 acres to our little reserve. Only 1/3 is fenced in, containing our exotic animals for our tours, and our buildings that we use to operate. Offices, mechanical garages, barns, and storage sheds, that sort of thing. Usually if we have trespassing issues, it's in the northern woods, which is open to the public for walking/biking trails. Sometimes in the southern prairie reserve we get some wanderers, but it's pretty open, so people tend to shy away from it. But our interior, the central area, most of which is fenced in, is sacred ground for us. We have a children’s camp in there for kids to learn about nature, we have our animal barns, and even some staff housing. For people to walk around in there would be like a stranger walking through your bedroom at night, while you’re in the shower.
Not cool. Not cool at all.
One of our ecology survey teams found the camera in a lesser-used section a mile or so north of the children’s camp. Naturally, they assumed it was one of ours, until one of the staff innocently asked another ranger why we’d put a camera by that lake. When the ranger told her that we didn’t have any cameras there, it began to sink in.
We either have two trespassers, or the painter has decided to move his game further into our land.
I’m hoping it’s the former, that I’m overthinking things, but after all, the mystery painter had to have seen a few of the trail cameras we put up in the north to catch him. Could he be doing this as a form of tit-for-tat? I don’t know, but it’s got us rangers frustrated, and our ecology team is spooked. It was fun and games in the unpopulated north, but now he’s getting close to our people, our guests, and our animals. This is serious now. We removed the camera, but there’s not really much we can do without more patrols, more cameras, and more rangers. With our budget already restricted, the last part just isn’t possible.
My foray into trail cameras yielded no results as to a culprit. In fact, the day I came in early to pull them out of the field, it seemed nothing went right. Only two came off the tree, as I forgot the keys for the locks for the other two. I couldn’t find the last one at first, and darkness fell before I could locate it, so that I was wandering around in the northern district in the blackness searching for it. Inadvertently this helped me find the camera in the end; I saw the red light flash as it took my picture and was able to retrieve the SD card. It was in my long return trek to the patrol truck that I discovered the marks on a remote trail I hadn’t walked yet. A capital O and a capital N were scrawled in various places, with dots over the letters. I took German in university, so I know they aren’t grammatical marks from that language, known as umlauts (pronounced as “oomlout” for my fellow English speakers; for all my German speakers, if I spelled that wrong, I apologize). I’d left my phone in the truck (stupid rookie move for a seasoned ranger, I know) so I couldn’t take any photos, and didn’t want to follow the trail too far in the pitch dark. I had a flashlight with spare batteries, as well as my gun (I’m not a complete moron after all) but I didn’t have time to do much exploring, since I had other duties in the park that were waiting on me. I had some VIP’s that were coming in late, and had to be escorted, which meant I had to clamber back to my truck, swatting at mosquitos the whole way. Nothing on the cameras showed any definitive proof, though we might have a lead on a guy with a bow case on his back. Could be nothing though; it’s not illegal to wear camo or carry things, and it could very well have been a camera case, a backpack, or an empty bow case.
In any event, we rangers are working on a strategy for changing up our patrol routes and putting more cameras in the field, as well as checking in on the children’s camp frequently throughout the night. So far, this mystery person hasn’t actually hurt anything that we know of, but even if this is just local kids having a prank, it’s not funny anymore.
Anyway, on to the other news. For the aforementioned reasons, as well as others, I’ve been super swamped this past month, and so writing on the third book in the Barron County trilogy has been slow. I wanted to release it at the beginning of June, but at this rate, I’m going to have to push that back to late June, possibly early July. I hate to think I’ve disappointed you all, but it’s just not ready yet. That, and I’ve been busy with something else . . . something big.
I’m getting married next week.
It’s been a long time coming, but my fiancé and I are super excited. We’ve known each other since kindergarten and have been best friends since forever. We’ve both been running like chickens with our heads cut off to get everything ready, and naturally, we’re both exhausted/somewhat nervous. Our honeymoon will require some flying, and since my fiancé has never been on a plane before, that’s a point of nervousness for her. I’m sure she’ll be fine once we’re in the air, but until then, she’s a bundle of nerves.
All that is to say, I am working on the story, it’s just taking a bit. I cannot wait to get back into the swing of things for all of you and thank you again for your supreme patience in this. You guys and gals are great, and entertaining you all is a massive privilege. Stay tuned for the third installment of the Barron County trilogy, and the epic conclusion of Hannah Brun’s journey into the unknown! Until next time.

Week 1
I saw an opening on Linkedin for content writer at this company SurveySparrow. Looked them up on Glassdoor - US based company, great reviews - so I went ahead and applied.
Week 2
Got a DM from their recruiter on Linkedin asking me to send my CV to another recruiter's email. My CV was already submitted when I applied, so why couldn't you just pass it over? Strange. So I emailed my CV to this second recruiter.
Week 3
Got a call from this second recruiter who asked my experiences for 15 mins. Next day, she gives me a 1500 word unpaid assignment with a deadline of 48 hours. It required a lot of first hand research. Somehow I scrape through it and submit it within time.
Week 4
Recruiters calls me to say that my interview is scheduled tomorrow at 3 PM and she will sent me the interview link. It's almost 2:45 PM but there is no link. I call the recruiter and she tells me the panel is out for some other business and my interview is post-poned for the next week.
Week 6
The next week, I receive an invite for an interview for "Growth Marketer role". I thought I applied for the Content Writer role. Strange.
Interview starts and the guy straight away asks me ...
"Why do you want to get into Content Writing despite having an Engineering background?"
"I don't have an Engineering background".
"Your CV says that you do".
"No, it doesn't".
Turns out, they had the wrong CV of another candidate. The rest of the interview goes awkwardly since he did not have access to my CV nor the assignment I submitted.
Week 6
Recruiter calls me to tell that the panel liked my profile and second interview is scheduled for the next day. The next day, my second interview starts. I ask why my invite says "Growth Marketer". He clarifies that along with content writing, I'll be having some marketing responsibilities as well and that my performance will be measured by my success in these marketing campaigns.
Week 7
Recruiter calls me to tell that the panel liked my profile and third interview is scheduled for the next day. Interview drags on for more than an hour. The guy grilled me thoroughly regarding my marketing expertise (SEO techniques, Digital Marketing campaign success, Social Media Marketing tools, B2B framework etc). Things that I had very little knowledge about.
After asking each question, he had a smirk on his face which made me think that he wasn't really trying to understand my expertise, he was just trying to see how I handle stress. A day letter, I get an email from the company with the headline "Until we meet next time!".
So I just have one question: Is this normal? Have you guys had experiences like this before?

Spoilers ahead.
Bollywood’s roster of adult films is a barren wasteland, dotted by the occasional Tusshar KapooMilap Zaveri release. Yet, there may be hope for the genre as long as trailblazing production house YRF keeps churning out experimental masterpieces. For well before there were Kyaa Kool Hain Hum, Masti, and Ragini MMS, there was Mohabbatein. As on several other occasions, YRF embraced the role of innovator and at the turn of the millennium brought to Bollywood what is till date the industry’s only sex-ed film. Unlike Bollywood’s other attempts at adult cinema, Mohabbatein seeks to educate—not titillate—as moustachioed maestro Aditya Chopra examines attitudes towards male masturbation, specially amongst adolescents. To avoid offending conservative sensibilities, this sociological examination is cleverly hidden within a family-friendly romantic drama tale and presented in allegorical terms.
Mohabbatein features an ensemble cast, led by Amitabh Bachchan and DDLJ background actor Shah Rukh Khan, with Aishwarya Rai as a guest star. Although the cast also includes celebrated thespians Uday Chopra, Jugal Hansraj, and Shamita Shetty, a complete listing is omitted here for the sake of brevity. Bachchan plays Narayan Shankar, headmaster of the prestigious Gurukul boys’ college. Shankar is a stickler for rules, and imposes upon his students the need for tradition, prestige, and discipline. His rules extend to a blanket ban on romantic relationships, which forms the crux of the film’s conflict. SRK plays Raj Aryan, a music teacher and disgraced Gurukul alumnus who has returned to the institute under anonymity, with the single goal of melting Shankar’s icy heart and impressing upon him the power of love. Finally, Aishwarya Rai plays the deceased Megha, Shankar’s late daughter and the love interest of Raj Aryan.
In a figurative sense, Gurukul—with its forced confinement, all-male student body, and rigid rules—is a portrayal of restrictive societies that enforce adolescent sexual repression through gender segregation and harsh oversight. Narayan Shankar, as headmaster, is the enforcer of said oversight and abides by his oppressive regulations to set an example. Gurukul’s official motto—‘Parampara Prathishta Anushasan’—may be shortened to ‘PP Anushasan’, the word ‘PP’ being slang for a man’s meat pole of love and ‘Anushasan’ meaning discipline or regulation. Thus through its motto, the institution reveals its intention to exercise total control over its students’ genitalia.
Metaphorically, Narayan Shankar’s rejection of all things romantic/sexual, and his stubborn opposition to any form of change—stated by him multiple times throughout the film—is an allusion to his opposition to puberty and the sexual changes it brings along with it. His choice of garments throughout the film—dull black trousers coupled with matching black sherwanis—prevents viewers from getting a view of his lush curves and adds to his thoroughly sexless demeanour. Additionally, Shankar takes pride in his habit of staring right at the sun for several minutes every morning, which is a clever allusion to the popular myth about masturbation causing damage to eyesight—a lifetime of total abstinence from masturbation has prevented Shankar’s eyes from taking any damage, and therefore he can stare full-bore into the sun for as long as he pleases. Given all this, it is unknown how he fathered a daughter in his state of permanent prepubescence, so it may be deduced that he somehow reproduced asexually. In sum, Shankar is a man struggling to indefinitely delay his own sexual maturity, and thereby desperately clinging on to a simple, childlike innocence of all sexual matters.
Raj Aryan exists as the foil to Narayan Shankar, having arrived at Gurukul with the singular purpose of altering Shankar’s stunted outlook towards sexual maturity. In an allegorical sense, he portrays the biological agents and changes that act as messengers of puberty and sexual maturity, such as gonadotropin-releasing hormones and testosterone. Visually, his urbane, well-dressed appearance, along with his suave and cultured manner, stands in contrast to the dull cluelessness of Narayan Shankar and his wards, and is indicative of his sexual confidence and maturity.
Furthermore, his choice of musical instrument—the violin—is hardly coincidental. A violin requires precise, well-timed stroke-like movements to be made using a long, cylindrical piece of wood. The sight of Raj Aryan lounging comfortably in a chair and playing the violin with long, languid strokes, whilst wearing an expression of both contentment and pleasurable exertion, is certainly suggestive without appearing crass. The fact that his lover Megha is deceased does not decrease Raj Aryan’s passion in the slightest, as she makes an appearance in his imagination every time he leans back, closes his eyes, and handles his violin. Through such a combination of clever visual double entendres, the film conveys Raj Aryan’s use of masturbation and masturbatory fantasies as a healthy outlet for sexual expression and release.
To Gurukul’s ignorant masses, Raj Aryan is nothing short of a revelation. Like a masturbatory Pied Piper, he draws the ignorant, curious, and hypnotized students to his lessons, where he impresses upon them the need to break free of Gurukul’s restrictive confinements and open their hearts and prostate glands to the power of love. In a metaphorical sense, he encourages the students to accept the changes coursing through their bodies, and let puberty begin to run its course.
To best educate Gurukul’s students, Raj Aryan organises a secret dance ball, inviting over students from a neighbouring women’s college. Considering the allegorical nature of storytelling in Mohabbatein, the college and its students are likely imaginary, and the secret dance ball is actually an educational musical lesson on some of the more practical and logistical aspects of masturbation. YRF films have always been renowned for making their song-and-dance routines an integral part of the story, and Mohabbatein is no exception to this tradition of artistic excellence. As Gurukul’s students shuffle into the dance ball, Raj Aryan takes the centre stage and croons, ‘Aankhein khuli ho ya ho band/Deedar unka hota hai/Kaise kahoon main o yaara ye/Pyaar kaise hota hai’, with the lyrics making it clear that while there are many paths to self-pleasure, the path one takes does not matter so long as the destination is the same. With sufficient practice, a master of the art may hone his skills to the point where imagination is all that is required. Meanwhile, the less-skilled are free to keep their eyes open and rely on whatever visual aids they may prefer. Bearing in mind the wide variety of means and techniques employed, it is not for one man to tell another how best to beat his meat.
This educational demonstration, however, is cut short upon the surprise appearance of Narayan Shankar, who discovers Raj Aryan's attempt to arouse Gurukul’s pupils to rebellion against his rules. Shankar uses his authority to turn Raj Aryan’s movement temporarily flaccid, but a defiant Raj Aryan takes up Shankar’s opposition as a challenge, and vows to bring about love in every heart, a cramp in every right hand, and a scraggly hair sprouting from every smooth chin. Raj Aryan begins his campaign by asking Gurukul’s pupils to each write a love letter upon orange maple leaves. The orange maple leaf is a common visual theme throughout the movie, and for good reason—a maple leaf with its five lobes bears an uncanny resemblance to an outstretched palm with its five fingers, coloured an inflamed red perhaps due to excessive use. Thus, the act of writing a love letter upon an orange maple leaf is a clever visual metaphor for the students actually expressing gratitude and affection towards their own hands for the newly-discovered joys their hands have provided them with.
However, the ever-vigilant Narayan Shankar eventually catches onto Raj Aryan’s actions, and realizes that his fearsome gaze is no longer capable of wilting students’ defiant boners. Faced with this prospect, a desperate Shankar begins expelling students, hoping to discourage their peers and Raj Aryan, and therefore stave off the advent of puberty and sexual maturity amongst his wards. This leads to the film’s climax, wherein a gratuitously dripping-wet Raj Aryan meets Shankar, and defiantly tells him that whilst he may have won the battle, he has lost the war, for despite all his authority, Shankar will be forever left alone, because he lacks the powers of imagination and fantasizing that Raj Aryan possesses. Raj Aryan then reveals to Shankar that despite the death of Megha (Shankar’s daughter, it may be remembered), he still fantasizes about her with perfect clarity. However, as previously mentioned, Shankar had likely reproduced asexually to sire Megha, and asexual reproduction leads to genetically-identical offspring. A horrified Shankar realizes that therefore, by masturbating to Megha—his clone—Raj Aryan has been indirectly masturbating to Shankar himself for the past several years. Left shaken by this discovery of the transitive properties of masturbation, a broken Shankar is unable to recover from his shock and resigns as headmaster of Gurukul, leaving Raj Aryan to take the helm and finally bring about his purpose to a glorious conclusion.
Over two decades after release, Mohabbatein stands alone in Indian cinema. Few films have ever attempted such deftly-layered storytelling in treatment of such delicate subject matter. Indeed, if the bar were ever raised, it was only by YRF’s own other creations in subsequent years. No other films, however, have ever had the courage and wit to portray sex-ed as Mohabbatein so well did, and if the subject shall ever make an appearance in the educational curriculum, there can be no doubt that Mohabbatein shall be required viewing for all students, educators, and educational policymakers.

It if my belief that the hardest liberal ideal to uphold is not property rights or free-markets but pluralism. This is because the instinct to demonize and distance oneself from one's enemies is overwhelmingly strong, driven by pride, fear, anger, and disgust. But we should stand against these impulses, for the very core of democracy relies on people and groups of different to engage and hash out a plan for the future. With that in mind, I would like to make a case that one of the most powerful and useful things a principles neoliberal can do is bridge build.

What is Bridge Building?

Bridge-building is not rigorously defined because it's pretty new, but it comes from very old human instincts: curiosity and a desire for authentic connection.
Curiosity is not just a desire for knowledge, but a desire to expand one's view of the world and a practice of being an ever-enthusiastic learner. Curiosity does not have to be about facts but also about new experiences and ways of thinking. To be curious about a person is not necessarily wanting to know their social security number, but how they came to where they are in life and how they see the world. Curiosity is not just touching grass, but appreciating the park's beauty. If I were not curious, I would likely have noped out of this subreddit based on the name alone. But because I was, I read the sidebar.
It is my belief that people have an innate desire to be heard, to be seen and respected. And although it is diminished as of late, people also have the capacity to truly connect to others on a deeper-than-superficial level. This is hard online, but much easier in the real world. This desire and capacity for connection can help people overcome great differences and sprout the seeds of a great friendship.
Based on these two principles, Bridge-Building is a movement to ease polarization by connecting people of different backgrounds and groups together to foster greater understanding. The goal is not to reduce disagreement, but to make it more productive.

Why should Neoliberals Aim to Bridge Build?

Yeah, why should we? If we know best, why should we listen to those chumps? After all, I already have a name for everyone to right and left of me: wrong.
For one, do we really know best about everything? In the Socratic Dialogue Meno, Socrates and the politician Meno discuss the nature of virtue. During a debate on whether virtue can be taught, Meno asks Socrates this:

And how will you enquire, Socrates, into that which you do not know? What will you put forth as the subject of enquiry? And if you find what you want, how will you ever know that this is the thing which you did not know?

Here in lies Meno's Paradox: how do you know if you need to learn? If you already have that knowledge, you do not need to look any longer. And if you don't, then you have no idea what you're searching for. Socrates uses the idea of inbuilt knowledge as his answer, but I have another one which may strike more directly to the interests of liberals: simply assume that your knowledge is incomplete, and seek a more complete picture. Given all the knowledge in the world out there and all the things have yet to be discovered, it is unlikely that you or any other person has the complete picture on even a single issue.
But even if we do not know everything, if there value in learning from those of different views of us? I say that there is, and I will use another famous parable, this time from Buddhism, to illustrate my point. In this story, a kind invites a group of blind men to experience something that they have never encountered before: an elephant. When each blind man has felt a part of the creature, the king asks them to describe what they are touching. The man touching the foot says that the thing is a pillar, the man touching the trunk says it is a plow, the man touching the tip of the tail says a brush, and so on. The blind men cannot agree on what they are all touching, and so start an ancient version of a flamewar which entertains the king. In this story, the elephant is "The Truth", if such a thing exists. Although we all come in contact with the truth and with reality, we each come at it at different angles, like how the blind men are touching different parts. This means that while our individual perspectives are incomplete, they can be put together as a much more complete picture. People who remember the "wisdom" of the crowds should also recognize the powerful insights that can come from non-experts, especially as a group. Neoliberals who aspire to be "evidence-based" should not just gather evidence from different sources, but learn about different ways of thinking from others, or else they would be like one blind man squeezing the elephant's gonads really hard and thinking he's touching a balloon.
Edit: Just realized another reason Another reason for bridge building has to do with pragmatism. Pragmatism is not simply being "less extreme", but meeting people where they are. But how can you do that if you don't know where they are? Polls can help, but some personal connection may help as well, given how unreliable polls can be.
Hoewver, there are a lot of people who will reply to this very post and say, "isn't it dangerous to engage with certain people? What about those who are too stupid and hateful to learn?". Firstly, you should never bridge build if you feel unsafe. However, feeling unsafe is not the same as feeling uncomfortable, and discomfort may help you shake out of old patterns. Secondly, the foremost goal of substantive discussion is not to teach but to learn: even if the other party is too stupid to learn, if you are able to listen and learn you will have gained from the conversation. This may not always work out, but I promise you that when it does the effect is magical.

How do you Bridge Build?

This is the hard part. I haven't fully figured it out myself, but I have some pointers:

1. Be patient. People, especially people on the internet, are no the most eloquent speakers. Struggling to find the right words or having incorrect grammar and spelling should not be taken as signs of being dumb babies not worth talking to. Additionally, try not assume all of what people are based on snippets of information.
2. Be polite. Avoiding infamatory remarks ("You can't even read a supply and demand graph") and ambiguous slogans ("From the river to the sea, drugs will be free!") and try to keep the focus on the issues instead of the other person (or what you assume of the other person).

3.Stand up for your beliefs. Common ground is only real if it is earned. Be upfront about what you believe and how you came to believe those things. Anything else would be a disservice to the other party.

1. Follow your curiosity. Try to ask questions in good faith instead of as traps (although I admit I do this a lot). Who knows where the inquiry will go?

But if that's too hard or ambiguous, there's a lot of help out there. Here are some organizations and projects that specialize in bridge-building:
Braver Angels: They host workshops, debates, and other events for bridging divides. I also like their A Braver Way Podcast. They also happen to be associated with one American Purpose Magazine.
One Small Step by StoryCorps: If you sign up, they may match you with someone they think you will have a fruitful conversation with.
National Institue for Civil Discourse: Come on, one of the founding Co-Chairs was Bill Clinton, and a former board member was H.W. Bush.
There are many more, so feel free to search for yourself. So, why not try building some bridges? They're an important piece of infrastructure.

Sometimes I feel the answer on study hall is wrong. Why so? Like this question Please help analyse why SH hall answer is correct? Even ChatGPT picked my answer
Why is option C correct please ? I choose A.
Key Factors Considered by Visa Officers 1. Purpose of Visit: * Clearly state the purpose of the visit. If the purpose is to visit your friend and get married, provide details of the wedding plans and any arrangements made. 2. Proof of Ties to Home Country: * The fiancé must demonstrate strong ties to Nigeria that will compel him to return after his visit. This includes: * Employment: Provide a letter from his employer stating his position, salary, and approved leave. * Property: Evidence of property ownership or a lease agreement. * Family: Documentation showing family ties in Nigeria. * Financial Stability: Bank statements, savings, or investments that show financial stability. 3. Financial Support: * Show that he has sufficient funds to cover the cost of the trip, including travel, accommodation, and other expenses. This can be demonstrated through personal bank statements, a letter of financial support from your friend, or a combination of both. 4. Previous Travel History: * A history of travel to other countries and compliance with visa conditions can positively impact the application. 5. Invitation Letter: * A detailed invitation letter from your friend (the sponsor) in Canada, outlining the purpose of the visit, relationship details, and assurance that he will be accommodated and supported during his stay. A project team is working on backlog items within a four-week sprint. Suddenly, a critical team member announces that they will unexpectedly be absent for one week, leaving ongoing tasks incomplete. What would be the most appropriate action for the project manager to take in this situation? A. Support a knowledge transfer between the team member who will be away and the other project team members. B. Add a temporary resource to the team to help increase velocity and complete the items for this sprint. C. Remove a few items from the current sprint after getting the approval of the product owner. D. Increase the sprint duration so the team can complete all the planned items and present them to the product owner.
Answer from SH:Solution: C. Remove a few items from the current sprint after getting the approval of the product owner. Removing a few items from the current sprint, with the approval of the product owner, is the most appropriate action this situation. It allows the team to focus on completing the most critical and valuable tasks within the sprint's original time frame. The other options are incorrect because they are not as suitable for this scenario. Knowledge transfer takes time and may not be feasible given the sudden and unexpected nature of the team membe absence. Knowledge transfer is a good practice in general, butit may not be the most appropriate action for this spec situation. Adding a temporary resource to the team is not the most practical option and may not be efficient or cost-effective for such a short duration, and it could disrupt the team's workflow. ' Changing the sprint duration disrupts the sprint planning and review process and can lead to various issues, including reduced predictability and potential scope creep. This question and rationale were developed in reference to: The Agile Practice Guide (No Date) PMI/PMI/5.2.6 PLANNING FOR ITERATION-BASED AGILE/55 [Item]

1330 Terran Front Fleet Time
On the Turinika homeworld, the first signs of unrest began to manifest like a wave, The broadcast of the most esteemed Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata, Taratanti of the roost Kazatalak, openly performing the act of Kavsa had been met with shock. The last Taratanti who had voluntarily performed Kavsa had done so in protest of the treatment of the Kulorn caste, nearly two thousand years prior. It was an ancient rite, one that signified rejection of the greatest shame. Even more shocking than the act itself was the evidence that had followed it. Visuals of species, brought into the Conclave, not as migrant workers as had been believed, but as slaves, was met with an almost immediate attempt at censorship. This attempt failed spectacularly, mostly due to those who had been tasked to censor the information not only refusing to follow the command, but openly declaring that they had been ordered to do so. A situation that was already, as the humans would say, out of hand, spiraled completely out of control. Within only twenty minutes of the ending of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata’s broadcast entire cities entered a state of absolute anarchy. Two planetary capitals were stormed and taken by the furious civilian population, demanding the location of those who had been enslaved. The Turinika Armada, which even then was in the middle of a training session meant to prepare the fleet to withstand the Terran Front’s assault, began to cease operations. Within the hour, the entire armada would be recalled to the turnika homeworld. Those who did not take to the streets simply stopped whatever work they were doing and went to their homes to be around their brood. Images of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata with his stripped wings spread wide in front of the human fleet commander were on every news fed of the Conclave, as was the sound of his thunderous voice, and the wails of despair from a turinika female that couldn’t be seen. Close ups of the human fleet commander’s face were shown, with analysts remarking on the shock, horror, and sympathy. Since the outbreak of the Seventh Orion War, the female human known as Simmons had been reported to have made several threats towards the turinika, she had quickly become seen as a warmonger, ready to take revenge against the turinika for refusing to go to war and violate their principles of pacifism. Now the images of her lunging forward to stop the violation of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata’s plumage, the agonized expression of her face, and the true reason for her threats against the turinika were rapidly reversing her image. On far flung deep core mining stations and agricultural stations, on deep space stations dedicated to material processing, and in other areas hidden from the sight of the normal turinikan population, overseers and taskmasters felt their hearts run cold at the knowledge that very soon, their part to play in the willful enslavement of another species would be known to the wider Conclave. As the data package transmitted alongside the broadcast were fully decompressed and the scale of the Conclave’s government’s involvement was revealed, the entirety of the Conclave itself was teetering on the verge of absolute pandemonium. The image of a member of the kolra species, from the look of it barely a hatchling, quickly was becoming the face of the entire incident. The picture was absolutely damning, and the sight of the image had sent any who saw it instantly into contorting and painful displays of shame. The young kolra was sprawled on it’s stomach, looking to the one taking it’s picture with eyes that had no life in them. It’s shell covered it’s back, and despite the age of the kolra it was already dulled and scuffed. The foot pressing down on the shell was unmistakably familiar to those who saw it, the clawed feet of a turinika. Within the hour, billions of winged figures stood in streets, the normally soft spoken and passive species demanding action, demanding justice, on the hundred worlds of the Turinika Conclave. The bulk of the Taratanti caste, most of whom had been left in the dark of the truth of the situation, quickly went public with their own declaration of outrage, and the eyes of the entire species turned inwards to the mountainous homeworld of their species.
Hakuri Watanabe looked down at his helmet before putting it on his bed, the stylized SEVEN seeming to stare at him. He sat down in his chair and picked up a small cloth from his buffing kit. No one knocked on his door, in fact, mostly he and the rest of his squad were left alone before a major operation. They were just given their time, time to mentally prepare. Some of his squad would go over their mission briefing, some, like him, would spend their time doing something to relax themselves. Hakuri always found that taking care of his suit calmed him considerably. Granted he could simply turn it over to the squads armorers to be tended to and they would do as good of a job as he could, but he preferred it to be done by his own hand. The symbol of a triangle was on his form fitting shirt, the symbol of his special operations command unit. He was known as a Myrmidon, but the official title of his unit was Section Three. He knew this, his superiors knew this, and as far as Hakuri knew, most of the Terran Front was aware of his unit’s existence, but past that, they knew very little about what he actually did. As far as his mother knew, Hakuri was a pencil pusher onboard the TFS Berlin, the troop mothership that all of his letters were sent from. He thought about writing her, but then again, he only liked to do that when he returned from a mission, not when he was expecting to go to one. If he tried to write her when he was waiting, he would just get anxious, and homesick. That wouldn’t do when he was dropping into a combat zone. That wouldn’t do at all. Hakuri instead started to buff his helmet, waiting for the word to come down which meant they were prepared to jump. A glance at the clock made him pause in his circular rotations. The clock said 1330. Operation Naked Sun was about to begin.
Tika was on his side, Kzia standing at the end of the medical bed that had been adjusted for his turinikan physiology. He felt cold in more ways than one. For his people, clothing was more of a decoration than a necessity, but without his protective plumage he felt the cold stabbing him through to his hollow bones. His diplomatic access was already gone, his privilege access revoked. He heard the broadcast for a preparation to jump, but he wasn’t truly listening. There was no question in his mind he had made the right decision. There was no question at all. One of the humans, a nurse, came to his side and gently laid a heavy blanket over him. The human’s hand lingered on his trembling body for a few moments before it was removed, and Tika glanced in their direction. The female was one of the ones who had responded first to the call for medical service for him, had heard what had happened and why. Tika had gotten very used to being glared at on this ship. He was hated, and he knew it. He knew he had deserved it. He was a party to the vral’s enslavement of the humans, the chua, and far too many others. When he had come to Thermopylae station, he had not even given that fact a single thought. He was born into power, being of the Taratanti. He belonged to the most powerful species and government in the entire quadrant of the galaxy. His people, while mighty, did not seek to use it. To him, they had simply been above it all. When the vral had approached him with the offer to sell captured species at first TIka had wanted to reject it out of hand, but a few had told him to go through with the sale. Such was the nature of this galaxy, or so he had believed. The weak were at the whims of the strong, and one’s place in the galaxy was determined only by the power they could wield. The turinika were not nearly the first to have taken a species and used it for slave labor, and while Tika did not approve of the deal, he had not fought it either. As he looked back to the wall, he remembered what the humans had taught him these last days. When he had arrived in Thermopylae he had assumed he would find the chua species to have been at the very least regulated to a subservient role, if not outright enslaved. Finding them sharing power was a curiosity. He had expected to be treated with all the honor and dignity that his station demanded, that the power of his government demanded. Fleet Marshal Simmons had disabused him of that, and had left him humiliated and shamed. As he had laid in the dark as Simmons had declared the Seventh Orion War, covered in his own filth, feeling as if at any moment he was going to be killed he knew true fear and horrific uncertainty for the first time in his life. He had never faced these emotions, these sensations before. He had always been in power. He had stood with the full might of the Turinika Conclave behind him. He had never known anything other than the superior position. Now, as he lay in the hospital bed, staring at the wall, he was ashamed of how arrogant, how blind, and how short sighted he had been. After he had risen from his own filth, he had desperately tried to convince his leadership of the strength of the Terran Front, how it matched or eclipsed their own. The Conclave was not the unchallenged power in the quadrant anymore. The terrans, the human and chua, had somehow defied fate. They had not fallen to the vral after ninety years of near constant conflict, and now if Tika was right they had come out of it nightmarishly stronger than before. Tika had actually begged to be heard by his superiors, and he had never come close to that once in his life. The chua homeworld however, had fully broken him. If he had not been on the Antares, had not been humbled beforehand, he knew that he would have just clapped his hands together and said that it was delightful. As the transmission from the chua homeworld had come in, and the rescue effort had begun, he could only wallow in his own shame. He had profited directly from the chua’s suffering, the human’s suffering. Again he had tried, and failed, to convince his people, and again he had failed. Being on the Antares, for him, was torture. The lights were too dim, every human and chua looked at him with nothing more than loathing and contempt, his entire worldview had been shattered from the way he viewed the galaxy to his own place in it. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the shadow of Simmons standing over him, her voice cold with a lethal rage, hearing her voice echo in his mind, seeing the glint from flashes of light shining in her eyes. ‘We Know.’ echoed in his mind in his sleep, the voice of the terrifying Fleet Marshal transforming into the sound of a vengeful god demanding compliance and promising retribution. Then he had watched the humans and chua, who he knew were preparing to go to war with his people, celebrating the return of the shesvie. Once more he had expected them to be integrated into the Terran Front, but as soon as he learned Simmons offer to them, and what it had entailed, he had been called to his room to answer the latest message from his people. Once again, his people had doubled down, the knowledge of the enslavement of the humans had been suppressed, and once more Tika found himself, and his people, standing against a Terran Front that had every justification to declare war, to right the wrongs that had been done to them. All the while, he knew something else. He knew that, after everything he had seen, that his people would lose. The turinika had not been to war for nearly two thousand years. His people were not ready for what the Terran Front could do, and after seeing what they had done to the vral so far, he knew his people were not ready for what the Terran Front would do. He was afraid of the dark. Tika was absolutely terrified of it now, because now he knew the monsters were real. Simmons had shown him that, but the humans, the chua, they were not the monsters. He was. He had refused to be one any more. He had announced his intentions to his staff, who had squalled in rejection, all but three. Kzia was the first to step to his side, Kikumot and Tziki had stepped forward as well. Never, in his most nightmarish dreams, did he ever think that he would stand in front of Simmons and voluntarily have his plumage stripped from him, performing the act of Kasva. He never thought that his staff would have ever compiled and transmitted the data package they had sent. He had never thought that he would betray his people, if only to save them. Simmons had changed that, the humans had changed that. He knew the terror of the dark, he knew fear for his people’s safety, he understood the horror of war, and for the first time in his long life he could truly look back at every interaction he had had, with every species, that had asked for help in their struggle for survival against the vral and truly understand their fear and desperation. Now he lay, his plumage stripped from him, his station revoked, his status removed, surrounded by a people who despised him. He wouldn’t have it any other way now. He knew that they would listen now, if not to him, then to the civilian masses of the Conclave that would not stand for what they had done. He prayed to the Great Mother often now, shivering in the dim light, hoping that it would be enough. He had been wrong, and in his error he had sullied his own people. He had made them complicit. Even now, he did not know how they would ever be forgiven, because right now he wasn’t quite sure he could ever forgive himself. As he heard the broadcast calling out on the ship, announcing one minute to jump, he felt a hand on his side, and looked up to the human nurse. She was smiling at him. Not a smile born of malice, or anger, but a genuine smile. She patted his side lightly, then turned to walk out of the room. For not even the twentieth time since he had come onboard Thermopylae, he was mystified by these people.
The bridge of the Dhampir was thrumming with music and the vibrations of the reactor and Conrad leaned forward in his chair mount, his eyes almost feral as he looked at the empty space that was the mandeville point. He was positively chomping at the bit. Batz was positively roaring the lyrics to the song that was blaring over the ships speakers. Rev and Dev sat side by side in their mounts, throwing their hands up in time with the pounding bass beat of the sound. Towns was the only one besides Conrad that was quiet, both of them looking towards the mandeville point with complete impatience. Conrad felt like jumping from his skin. Fidget, well, fidgetted, holding his hands over his headset and listening as if he were trying to hear secret messages in the music. They were ready, their pulses were racing. The crew of the Dhampir was positively vibrating. Conrad looked to the shipboard clock, seeing 1330 displayed, and his head snapped to Fidget, waiting for the word. They were going to run, they were going to chase, they were going to hunt.
Vicky sat back, looking towards Jess and Kukat as they slept. Jess was in her chair, Kukat in her medical bed. Vicky glanced back at the block print on the paper and read it for the fifth time. She read the individual lines, one at a time, cursing their existence. After reading through the message printed she let her hand hang again. Kukat would be released from medical tomorrow, and both her and Jess still thought they would be boarding the Thumper to join the Vellacore once more. Jess had talked non-stop about her quarters on the Vellacore the past few days, how she just wanted to be back in her room. Kukat was equally excited. Only Vicky didn’t share their excitement. They didn’t know yet. They didn’t know about their battlefield promotions, they didn’t know about their reassignments, they didn’t know the days of them working together were functionally over. Vicky looked down at her hand holding the paper again, and felt like crumpling it. She had lost her crew. She had lost them not due to negligence, or time, she had lost them to fame. Kukat was to be promoted to ensign, and was to be the sensor officer on the destroyer Hadrian, Jess was getting the same promotion, her station on the cruiser Victorious. Vicky? She was the sparkling new commanding officer of a destroyer that was arriving at Thermopylae in two days, the Quarrel. She never wanted this. She had turned down promotion after promotion that would take her from the cockpit of the Thumper, away from Kukat, away from Jess. She wanted to serve in this war in her own way, as a pilot, with the two who had made her life so enjoyable. Now though, they were to be split up, and there was nothing she could do about it. These promotions hadn’t come from simple seniority, they had come from High Command, as had the orders. Tomorrow, when Kukat was released, they would be ushered into the hanger bay of the Barrowmore. They would all three be awarded the Star of Terra, then they would be reassigned. Tonight was the last night they would all be together. Vicky wanted to wake them up, she wanted to tell them, to give them a chance to process it. As she looked to Kukat and Jess she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She held up the letter again, reading the first few lines, then she felt the sting of tears in the corners of her eyes. She looked away, her heart panging with sadness, and stared at the wall. The clock read 1330.
Corporal Brandy was sitting on the small rack, with Janet Shippen sitting between his legs using his thighs as armrests. They were both dressed for the first time in the last few hours, both of them staring at the clock. This close to the reactors they could feel them beginning to spool up for the trip through hyperspace. When the news of the operation had come down they had elected to spend as much time together as possible, which Brandy had enjoyed to no end, and he had made sure Janet had as well. Brandy had even taken some time to reach out to his sister Victoria, a rarity for them both, as since they were children they were often barely able to speak to each other simply due to schedules. He had even told her about Janet, and although he hadn’t gotten a response from his sister yet he already knew what she would say. Janet nestled back against him, but he could feel her body was stiff. Neither of them knew what the next few months were going to hold. Their time together might be constricted, in fact, this might be the last few moments they were together for quite awhile. Brandy’s Ghouls were specialists, ship boarders. Chances are he was going to be extremely busy, as was she. He didn’t quite know how he felt about Janet, but he did know that beyond a shadow of a doubt he didn’t want to be away from her. Judging from how she was acting, she felt the same as him, conflicted about her relationship with him, but not wanting to be apart. He knew what he needed to tell her, that he had to get up, that he had to leave. The Ghouls were going to be assembled at 1345, ready to board. Her unit was going to be prepared at the same time, to begin taking on salvage. Her hands were like clamps on his legs, and from how tense she was, he wasn’t going to get up until she was good and ready. The clock on the wall switched to 1330. He stared at the clock, feeling like the clock was mocking him, when suddenly Janet leaned up and turned. Her hands took hold of his shoulders and she threw her body against his, her lips finding his own. Her arms wrapped around her frame and he tightened his grasp on her.
Simmons spread her hands over the panel in front of her, looking at the table. Seven points connected the recently reclaimed chua space to what was former Shesvie territory, and beyond that, the heart of the Vral Empire. Her lip curled in a wicked smile, On the digital display of the table the hyperspace lanes, and more importantly, the avenues of attack her fleet was preparing to take. She held out her hand, all five fingers splayed over the lanes, envisioning the war as it stood now. The war to come. Seven hyperspace lanes, seven systems, branching out into sixteen, branching out again to another twenty. The Antares herself was going to link up with the Barraki, and was set to simply plough through the next five systems to do so. Slowly she tightened her hand into a fist as she looked along the hyperspace lanes, seeing task forces lined up and ready to jump. Drones had already been sent through. The vral had forces along the border, but nothing that could withstand what was to come. Her fleet was ready. She was ready. The Seventh Orion War was at the end of it’s first month, and had taken back six systems. The first moves of Operation Naked Sun would double that and exceed it, then double it again. She had already given her speech, her task force commanders were ready. High Command had taken it’s time making this decision, and while she had railed against the delay that didn’t matter now. All along the front, individual task forces were joined into larger fleets, ready to jump into the next system and eliminate any vral defenses, but unlike now, they simply would not wait. Naked Sun was to be a lightning strike to cut off as much of the Vral Empire as possible, to deny them their own space, to imprison them on their own worlds. Task Forces were designed around three types of vessels combinations, Lighthammer Task Forces were comprised of corvettes and fast destroyers, the fastest vessels in the fleet, meant to take systems quickly, to devastate unprotected infrastructure, and to eliminate light resistance. Simply put, they were going to swarm into vral space, determine pockets of resistance, and move on. They were going to rip entire sections of vral space from them, calling in other task groups if needed. Thunder task groups were the primary capital fleets, meant to be sent into those pockets of resistance, and neutralizing them, joining with the Lighthammer groups if needed. The cruisers, carriers, battleships, they all belonged to these task forces. Her own task force was called the Nova task force, and it comprised only the Antares and it’s sizable fleet escort. Simmons glanced up at the clock, the time was 1329. She breathed in slowly, then unbidden the thought came to her head and she looked to the report from the two habitable planets that had been scanned by the drone cutters, the information having been relayed to her almost twenty minutes prior. She was not worried about the ground campaign, in fact a reserve fleet from Thermopylae would be the ones to escort the landing ships from planet to planet that her fleet left behind in it’s wake, isolated and defenseless from the wider Vral Empire. Fleet escorting was no longer her job, protecting ground invasions were no longer her job. Simmons was positively growling now, as her only job was to take her fleet and use it to rip the vral out of the stars. Still, the thought nagged at her. On both of the planets that her fleet was set to overrun, there were Vral ships in orbit. On the first, there was evidence that the Vral had been bombarding a small area of the surface, extremely similar in size to the hole that now existed on Zvitia, the planet that even now was being integrated into the Terran Front. In the second system it showed Vral ships in orbit, but whatever they were doing during the time they had taken the scans, whatever they were covering up, they didn’t seem to have gotten to it yet. On the radiological scan of the planet a massive bloom of electromagnetic energy painted a broad region of the planet blistering white. She had sent the images back to Earth, back to High Command, but no one seemed to know what was happening. The one thing that every analyst agreed on so far that was that whatever the blooms represented, it meant nothing good. She took another long look at the radiological scan, seeing the intensity of the radiation, and her lip curled in a snarl. She couldn’t think about that right now, but orders had already been given to notify her the moment that they had taken a planet that still bore the radiation signal. The vral were being damned fastidious about it though. She pulled her thoughts away from it, looking back to the hyperspace lanes. The slow grin entered her features again. She glanced at the clock. 1330. Her hand took hold of the receiver next to her station and she pressed the transmission stud, knowing that Hazard had already opened a channel to the wider fleet.
“Commence.”

I thought it would be beneficial to share my IELTS experience (academic, computer-based) to decompress and de-traumatise myself haha.
I'm not a native English speaker, but I've lived in an English-speaking country for around 13 years now. I speak English daily and hardly ever use my first language (I hate it; it's so ugly). I need at least a score of 7 in every category for registration purposes. Basically, if I can't deliver, I cannot pursue a certain career. I breathe English, I think in English, I basically AM English. IELTS, pffff, should be a piece of cake, right? Oh boy, was I wrong.
I forced myself to do a little one-week IELTS bootcamp before my actual test, you know, just to be prepared and not waste money as this dumb test costs a fortune. I used the official practice tests. Listening? No worries, easily got an 8.5/9 every time. Reading? MHM. In my first reading test, I had 24 correct answers out of 40... The stupid YES / NO / NOT GIVEN questions were wonderful for someone who overthinks A LOT. I looked up some strategies and then got 8.5/9 every time for reading. EASY. Writing? I literally just looked at the structures needed and memorised a couple of fancy words. EAZZZYYYYY. Speaking? Well, I'm awkward as hell and introverted, but hey, I can speak if needed. All good. Also, there’s not really much to prepare for.
Fast forward to the testing day. I used a new shampoo the evening before (voluminous & shiny hair) and went to bed with wet hair. When I woke up, my hair had so much freaking volume, it exploded so much that it now basically filled my entire room. It was intimidating. No time to do anything about it - I put a cap on, and this somehow tamed it.
You should be there 30 minutes before your test starts. Traffic was a nightmare; I was there 20 minutes before the test and had no idea there was an introduction. I walked into a room full of people, listening to someone explaining stuff. Everyone stared at me. My nervous self became even more nervous, and my face probably mutated into a tomato. "Sorry," I mumbled and sat down somewhere in the darkest corner. We were then informed that 1. we are not allowed to take food with us. It really stung because I had this new tiny delicious protein bar with me as a treat, carefully chosen the day before. 2. We weren't allowed to wear watches and mobiles needed to be turned off. 3. The introduction lady stared right into my soul: "NO headwear is allowed." I had to remove my cap, guys. It was so messed up. My hair was everywhere, and I felt like a miserable mop. You then basically get married to your passport. DO NOT FORGET TO BRING IT. One girl got disqualified because she didn't have hers. Hold on to yours; you need it for EVERYTHING. The number of times they checked mine, before, during, and after, was insane. The whole test building was a mess, by the way. It was old, it smelled, it was damaged, and there was NO light. I felt depressed the second I entered that damn building. We then got herded into a tiny room with really old computers. Guess what? Passports got checked again. We were around 10 people, and they had just checked them before sending us into the room. Anyway, the test started. Listening was great, except apparently I don't know how to write "volcano" correctly. I went to the bathroom before the test, but I could already feel my bladder getting annoying during that part. When I started the reading section, my whole body was shaking. It was insanely cold in that room; I was wearing a hoodie. The reading part was so much harder in comparison to the practice tests. This also may have had something to do with the articles I got. They didn't interest me in the slightest and my nervousness was making it really hard to focus. I wiggled my way through it but had around 8-9 questions I wasn't sure of. Fun fact: they had 2 sections of these stupid NOT GIVEN, TRUE / FALSE questions. Just to celebrate my existence. I panicked a little during that section and ran out of time in the end. The reading part takes around 1 hour, and by then I felt tired, HUNGRY, exhausted... and I was almost peeing myself. They don't stop the time for you, so what kind of idiot goes to the toilet during an IELTS exam? Yes. I was that idiot. I lost 5 minutes of time for my writing exam. I honestly should have worn a diaper. I really needed those 5 minutes. Long story short: after task 1, my thoughts were "That's pretty meh, I'll come back and sparkle it up later." I ran out of time for task 2. I had 7 minutes left when I was working on my second paragraph. I didn't have a conclusion yet; I didn't proofread. Task 1 was simultaneously breathing down my neck. Guys, it was an absolute shit show. I also started freaking out, which probably didn't help much. I spewed out a conclusion, 3 sentences which did not make ANY sense. I tried to finish my second paragraph, which also now does not make ANY SENSE. And I wasn't able to proofread any of it. Did I mention the computers were ancient? You had to basically spank the keyboard for it to work. I'm sure there are lots of missing letters. Fark mi life.
Once I slumped out of that dark testing room, I honestly could have cried. I felt fragile, exhausted, HUNGRY, and just massively disappointed with myself. I just wanted to roll home and die in bed. But wait, I totally forgot - there was one more part to tackle. SPEAKING. Yay. A fun thing to do when you feel absolutely broken.
I had to loiter around for an hour, cap proudly back on my head, stuffed my face with the protein bar (which turned out to taste like an old sock), gulped down some water and an energy drink. I hadn't had caffeine for over 3 years, so drinking an energy drink might not have been the best option. I FELT SO ALIVE AND EVERYTHING PASSED IN THE SPEED OF LIGHT. YEEEEW HAAAAH. I galloped back into the testing center, peed my insides out in the bathroom (I've learned), stared into the mirror, took off my cap for one millisecond, and decided it was best to keep wearing it, for humanity. I sprinted out of the bathroom, wasn't even surprised that my passport got checked again, and, did I mention? They also love your fingerprints. They got taken around 5 times while I was there. "NO HEADWEAR." I had to take that damn cap off again and could feel my hair fluffing up. HOW CAN ANYONE TAKE ME SERIOUSLY WITH THAT HAIR? I now had to engage in an actual conversation with an actual human. First impression was out the window, bet. I had to sit around for 20 minutes, not being able to use my phone or anything. I could not sit still. I watched people leave other rooms, crying. Finally, the door opened, and I was let in for my speaking test. The tester was literally a machine in human form. He mechanically read questions to me. I didn't feel strongly about ANY question he asked me. They were all so boring, and I literally had nothing to say. One of them, for example, was "Does your family have an old belonging? What is it? And what do you know about it?" My family are minimalists; they don't keep stuff. There I was, having to give some sort of stupid presentation in one minute, and I literally had NOTHING to talk about. Guys, don't let this dishearten you though; just make stuff up. I ended up word vomiting on him. He had to stop me multiple times. I felt annoyed with how much I was talking, but hey, at least I said something. He knew I could yap and speak English. We were all good. After that, I had heart palpitations and am still high on caffeine while writing this.
If you have any questions regarding the test, I can attempt to help you. If you messed up your writing and potentially reading test, I feel you. I will very likely have to spend between $199-300 to resit it. I absolutely hate the IELTS and hope to tick it off... soon.

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Finding Hope in Uncertainty: Unlocking Jeremiah 29:12-13’s Promise

Do you ever feel like you’re sending out SOS signals into the void, wondering if anyone up there is listening? If so, you’re not alone. Many of us have been there, especially in our most trying times. But, what if I told you that there’s a promise, nestled within the ancient texts of the Bible, specifically designed for moments of doubt and uncertainty? Yes, Jeremiah 29:12-13 holds a timeless assurance that might just change the way you view your struggles and doubts.

The Heart of the Message

Jeremiah 29:12-13 says, “Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” These words are part of a letter sent by Prophet Jeremiah to the exiles in Babylon, offering them a glimmer of hope and a future promise. But it’s not just for them; it’s for anyone who seeks a deeper connection and understanding in their spiritual journey, promising that sincere prayers and search for divine guidance are always met with open ears and an open heart.

Unpacking the Promise

These verses underscore two key actions: calling/praying and seeking. Here’s why they are incredibly relevant today:

• Active Engagement: It encourages us to not be passive in our faith, but to actively engage with it, reaching out to God in times of need.
• Promise of Receptivity: It guarantees that when we do reach out, we’re not ignored. Our efforts to connect are met with divine attentiveness.
• Pursuit with the Heart: The emphasis on seeking “with all your heart” adds a beautiful layer of sincerity and depth to our search for God, making the journey as important as the destination.

This passage, therefore, isn’t just about seeking answers during tough times; it’s a blueprint for nurturing a relationship with God that is based on mutual communication and sincerity.

Practical Steps to Heed Jeremiah’s Call

So, how can we apply Jeremiah 29:12-13’s promise to our daily lives?

1. Be intentional in your prayers: Set aside specific times for prayer and meditation, focusing your thoughts and intentions towards communicating with God.
2. Seek with sincerity: Engage in your spiritual practices with an open and honest heart, willing to find and accept the guidance offered.
3. Be receptive: Sometimes, the answers come in ways we don’t expect. Stay open to recognizing the subtle ways in which God might be responding to you.

By integrating these steps into our routines, we invite a more meaningful, two-way conversation with God into our lives—one where we speak and seek with the assurance that we will be heard and found.

Embrace the Promise Today

In our fast-paced, often unpredictable lives, it’s comforting to know that there’s an enduring promise waiting for us within the pages of Jeremiah 29:12-13. This scripture doesn’t just offer a fleeting sense of hope; it provides a tangible pathway to forming a deeper, more fulfilling relationship with God. So, why not take a moment today to call and seek? The promise is clear: He will listen, and you will find. Let the journey of heart-led seeking transform your spiritual walk, starting now.
Looking for more insights and guidance? Keep exploring, praying, and seeking with all your heart. Your journey is uniquely yours, but the promise of being heard and found is universal. Embrace it, and let it guide you through the uncertainties of life with faith and hope.
If you want to want to research more Bible Answers on your own, please try our Bible Answers GPT. It’s easy to get lost in the interesting responses you’ll find… every search is like a new treasure hunt 🙂
Source =

Hi guys, I’m looking for participants for a research in the field of language processing. I really need this to be able to finish my PHD 🥺 I kindly invite you to complete an online survey if you possess both these criteria: 1. Native english speaker 2. Second language: Chinese (hsk5 level or above). Or if you have any friends who fit this requirement, please let me know. Participants of this research will receive a small gift as a thank. Many thanks!!!

I guess I'll start off by giving backstory. I am a (18F) college student in a relationship with my boyfriend (18M) who is about to graduate highschool next week. We originally met back in February on a dating app, and we are long distance (of an hour away from each other), and our relationship is a secret from my dad (strict parent). My mom is aware of the relationship however because she is concerned for me getting found out, she limits my hangouts with my boyfriend. My boyfriend and I try to see each other every week, sometimes every other week.
I just want to make it clear: from the beginning of our relationship I have been the one to mess things up. Or that is how (him and me) mostly see it. I think I've come to realize it's because I have a lot of mental immaturity. From what I recall, one of the first arguments we had was my inability to communicate properly with my boyfriend. Such as: texting him small updates or, checking things he would send me on social media and not reply to his iMessage back. Very minor communication. The others were a bit more extreme. One of the more extreme ones stemmed from the whole strict parent thing. See, originally my boyfriend asked me out the first month in which we met. However, I turned him down because although I wanted to say yes, I didn't want to lie about the status of my relationship to my parents. Eventually, I wanted the two of us to become official after a few months of us talking, so I can then introduce him as my boyfriend to my parents. This created a big issue between us, in which he started developing a sense of not having security in the relationship. This would be the cause of many arguments. I think my fault in this was instead of reassuring him and making him feel heard; I would apologize over and over again trying to offer solutions. On his birthday I wrote him a long love letter and I told him I wanted to make things official, the truth is I felt pressured because a week before his birthday we had the same reoccurring argument. We've had a lot of arguments piling since then, many of them having to with me such as: making conversations about his feelings about myself, in which then he feels pressured to comfort me. Our most recent argument was completely my mistake and I recognize this.
About three weeks ago, one of my friends was preforming at my former highschool. It was going to be a concert like event in which students and their rock bands would preform. So I invited my Best Friend (18M) and my Boyfriend. (To clarify, my best friend has been my friend for 7 years and he is gay, this doesn't have to do with my best friend being a man; my boyfriend himself is comfortable with our relationship.) I had not seen my boyfriend for a week or so prior to this event and so I would constantly tell him about how I miss him and how I was looking forward to see him, hence why I invited him. Before the event started, the three of us (me, Boyfriend, and Best friend) decided to go to a cafe to get a drink since it was a 5min walk from my former highschool (where the event was being held). I thought I was giving him attention by being affectionate in holding his hand, trying to include him in conversation, and clinging to his arm would be enough: showing my boyfriend that I missed him. However, when we walked back from the cafe to line up outside the event, I noticed he was going quiet and even got out of line to sit down at a nearby bench. When we entered the event, us three sat down and my Boyfriend put his head down immediately. I knew from that, that this wasn't his vibe. After the first two songs, he got up and left (with letting me know) and went back to his car. I asked him if he was okay, and he just told me he wanted to lay down. The event was three hours, I stayed for the first hour almost two, before receiving a text from my boyfriend. In which he said "should I just leave", so I left the event and went to his car to talk to him. He told me that he felt unappreciated especially because I said I had missed him so much, that I didn't even say "thank you baby for driving an hour to be here". We ended up talking this out and we went to dinner after. The reason why I am bringing this up is because my best friend was actually quite annoyed at this. This week, me and my best friend went out to Koreatown which we were talking about my boyfriend. My best friend brought up his behavior from the event, and demonstrated the way my boyfriend had his head down expressing how annoyed it made him feel that I left early, and even missed some of my friend performance which was the reason why I went. I made the mistake of mentioning this to my boyfriend. He got extremely upset, and took my best friend as mocking him and disrespecting him, he got mad at me for not defending him. This was a very big argument. My boyfriend has expressed and even shown throughout the arguements we've had, that he is losing his patience and feels as though I am abusing him ;"Let me continue to beat you mentally and ask for forgiveness with no promise of a promising future for myself in change (he told me this)". Lately, although I should have been doing this from the beginning have been trying to put my best foot forward in changing attitude, I've been trying to be more supportive and not making conversations about myself, in making sure that he knows that I understand him, however I keep messing up and its very frustrating to me.
I've talked to my therapist and my own mom about my problems, because I really want to stay with my boyfriend and I really want to change. My last relationship I was sexually and verbally abused, and although me and my boyfriend have a lot of problems he really is the best and the first person I have seen a future with. I sometimes struggle with the trauma from my last relationship, which is why sometimes I get scared of expressing myself (my ex would call me stupid or a manipulator when I expressed myself so I get scared of retaliation). My boyfriend gets sometimes frustrated when I explain this because he tells me "well I'm not him and you know that".
Although I love this person, I don't know whether to break up with him or not. We have both stayed with each other because we want to work things out, however as he has expressed to me and I have noticed: this creating an unhealthy environment and he feels like he is in an unhealthy environment. I never want to keep my boyfriend in an environment in which he feels unsafe and not happy. To clarify, I am willing to work things out with him through and through. But, lot of the time I worry because of the several arguements we have had, that he is not happy but yet he stays. I cry a lot and I feel terrible. I never open to my mom about things ever but, I did the last argument because of how terrible I feel about it all. I feel like I'm not enough. I find myself trying but even I know my efforts aren't enough for this relationship. Any advice will help which is why I've taken it to here. I can't fully explain my whole relationship and timeline of events but hopefully this was enough information (if not I will try to update this) thank you if you read this.

im a harbinger of bad luck so cant believe things actually went okay-ish considering im not a competitive applicant
₊˚⊹♡.𖥔 ݁ Demographics

• Gender: Non-Binary
• Race/Ethnicity: Filipino
• Residence: Philippines (international applicant)
• Hooks (Recruited Athlete, URM, First-Gen, Geographic, Legacy, etc.): N/A
• High School: Religious private school that isnt the most competitive or well-known in the country but pretty alright.
• Income Bracket: 35k (considered middle class in the Philippines, my father is the sole breadwinner working as a lawyer and I have 2 more siblings who are still studying in private schools)
• EFC: 2k to 3k USD (i needed aid from every school)

₊˚⊹♡.𖥔 ݁ Intended Major(s): Media Production / Film and Television Production / Communications / Media Studies
₊˚⊹♡.𖥔 ݁Academics

• GPA: 3.9 for Freshman/Sophomore/Senior year, 3.6 for Junior year
• of Honors/AP/IB/Dual Enrollment/etc.: NONE, my school offered AP classes but I couldnt afford them
• Senior Year Course Load: Mostly humanities and social science classes, I did not have any science or math classes in my coursework.

₊˚⊹♡.𖥔 ݁ Standardized Testing

• SAT/ACT: Went test optional but I took it once and got a 1230 (LOW AS HELL BYE)
• ENGLISH TEST: Took the Duolingo Test and got 155

₊˚⊹♡.𖥔 ݁ Extracurriculars/Activities:
i didnt plan my extracurriculars in high school i sure did a lot and most of them were scattered out HAHA. jack of all trades, master of none moments. i tried to include mostly my media and writing related activities. aside from the ones i listed on my common app, i was immersed in a lot of social justice and political advocacy works + other sports :)

• Elections Project - assistant project head of a city wide youth elections project where we conducted mock elections, podcast interviews with politicians, and daily news coverage of the national 2022 elections.
• National Newspaper - writer contributor of a political editorial article to a national newspaper
• School Play on Social Justice - wrote and directed a play that tackled social justice issues in the country, I was the overall head of the class project and the play had runs with audience members from invited schools
• Student Council - was the student body vice president (junior year) and student body president (senior year), I was the main organizer of projects and events such as the annual school carnival, christmas fundraiser, student assistance programs, family day activities, etc.
• School Newspaper - was the news and sports editor of the school newspaper for 3 years, i also competed in journalism competitions as the representative of my school paper
• Dance Varsity - was part of the hiphop dance varsity team of my school for 4 years, we won in many national competitions
• Photography Business - owned a mini-photography business for 2 years at which I was mostly working on freelance photo editing
• International Screenwriting Competition - won 3rd place in two screenwriting competitions during my junior year
• Elderly Volunteer Organization - was part of an organization that conducted monthly outreach programs to the elderly, I served as the treasurer of the organization for 2 years
• Tutor Services - worked as a tutor of an organization that offered free onsite tutor services to elementary children, i tutored language (Eng and Fil) subjects

₊˚⊹♡.𖥔 ݁ Awards/Honors

• Academic Honors 9th-12th Grade
• Leadership Recognition 9th-12th Grade
• Community Service Recognition 9th-12th Grade
• Awards for Journalism Competitions
• Awards for Screenwriting Competitions

₊˚⊹♡.𖥔 ݁ Essay

• Common App Essay - went with prompt 3, wrote about my favorite author and how my reading habits mirrored my flaws in handling everyday life. 8/10 could have been more fleshed out and i crammed it first week of Jan.
• Supplementals - yeah I just copy and pasted a lot of these from my supplemental essays to other schools. 7/10 to 8/10

₊˚⊹♡.𖥔 ݁ LORs

• Media Studies Teacher - 10/10
• English and Literature Teacher - 8/10

I did not read the letters but im basing it on how much they like me as a student. I chose these teachers because I got high grades in their subjects and they got PhDs.
₊˚⊹♡.𖥔 ݁ Interviewss- I got none and I was too busy to go for optional interviews. I really did not display any demonstrated interest.
₊˚⊹♡.𖥔 ݁ D*ecisionss *(ALL REGULAR DECISION, actually I filed my international applications late like 2-3 weeks after the deadlines because I was in a depressive episode last January)
ACCEPTANCES

• UPD, UST, ADMU, DLSU (Top 4 universities in the Philippines)
• University of Denver - Dean Scholar (29k) + International Diversity Award (11k)
• Brandeis University - Presidential Scholarship (15k)
• Syracuse University - Dean Scholarship (10k)
• Marquette University - Pere Marquette Scholarship (29k)
• Hofstra University - Presidential Scholarship (29k)
• Drexel University
• Rutgers New-Brunswick
• University of Maryland
• University of Massachusetts Amherst
• PennState

WAITLISTS

• Wake Forest University
• Franklin & Marshall College

REJECTED

• Kenyon College
• Sewanee College

₊˚⊹♡.𖥔 ݁Reflection
well that was krazy HAHA. ik many people here showcase ivies and T20s and im not that remarkable with my t40s to t100s but i'd like to think its not that shabby for an unknown international from a third world country. my biggest regret is not applying for NYU, its my dream school but again considering my depressive episode from November to January I wasnt able to file my application on time. its a miracle that universities still accept late applications and im grateful for all that I have and received. If i could turn back time I wish I was a little bit stronger and more stable to have been able to apply for NYU, my common app essay about my favorite author was actually an alumni from NYU :")
but we carry the burdens of choice under the merits of luck; even with merit scholarships, I cant afford any of the international schools I was accepted to. more likely i'll have to attend the top university in my country. but i dont want to give up man i'll still try to appeal for financial aid and if that wont work I'll apply for transfer during my sophomore year to ivies and top LACs that give full financial aid to international transfers. the odds are low but never 0 and no harm in trying !! see you all again next year for my transfer results :]

Mythological Mystery:
Dear Writer,
Craft a narrative that intertwines elements of ancient myths, folklore, or legendary tales with the intrigue and suspense of a mystery within a letter. Set the scene for a world where cryptic legends, mythical artifacts, or divine entities serve as clues in solving an enigmatic mystery.
Describe characters embarking on a quest to unravel a mystery steeped in ancient myths, where mythical lore, forgotten prophecies, or legendary creatures hold the key to solving the puzzle. How do these characters navigate through the realms of mythology and mystery, piecing together clues that bridge the gap between the ancient and the contemporary?
Your task is to intricately blend the timeless allure of myths with the suspenseful unraveling of a mystery, offering readers a captivating and enigmatic journey into the realm of Mythological Mystery.
Best Regards, the Writingthruit Subreddit