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Having problems with your Kodak EasyShare C310 Digital Camera ?
Trying to format screen says filesys error e00100, camera wont format chip, chip is brand new.
Answers :
Your Kodak camera can only work with a card that has a capacity of 1GB MAX anything more and it just wont work.
Repair Help & Product Troubleshooting for Kodak EasyShare C310 Digital Camera
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Trying to format screen says filesys error e00100, camera wont format chip, chip is brand new.
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MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA - AUGUST 22: Participants tip buckets of ice water over their heads as they take part in the World Record Ice Bucket Challenge at Etihad Stadium on August 22, 2014 in Melbourne, Australia. Over 700 people took part in setting the new world record. The Ice Bucket Challenge is the social media phenomenon which is helping raise awareness and money for sufferers of Motor Neurone Disease. (Photo by Scott Barbour/Getty Images)
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Scott Barbour

subset: commoncrawl


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Read the introduction by guest editor Claire Vaye Watkins.
Speed Bumps
Mark was living with us in that house on Coleman even before my old man split, when I was in the second grade. But it wasn't always like that. When he's not around, sometimes my mom will tell me about Mark before he moved into Coleman. She talks about it like she's remembering another person, not the Mark that's been living with us since before I can remember. Instead of waiting to pick up a disability check twice a month for some bogus injury, he taught math at Clayton Middle School over on Kings Row, she says. When she talks this way, she even makes him look like a different person—handsome, she says. She uses other words sometimes, too, like "strong," or "successful," or "handy," when she's talking about this Mark that I don't remember. But she never forgets to use that word, "handsome." It's pretty hard to picture it when you look at him now, knowing the asshole he used to be, and the way he wanders around with all his crazy new ways. But every once in a while you catch him asleep in a chair on the back patio, and you think, Handsome. Maybe so.
But the stories my mom tells, that's not the whole truth either. From what I pick up from my aunt Lena, even back in those days neither Mark or his old wife Sherri were much for staying sober, and that's what landed him at the Coleman house with me and my mom. Mark used to have two kids of his own, if you can imagine it. Two little girls. Lena says that the night of the accident Mark was driving the family home from Shakey's Pizza on Fifth. He was so drunk that he put his car straight into the back end of a garbage truck, and since he and Sherri had both been drinking, Child Protective Services came and took the girls straight from the hospital. They both made a go at getting the kids back, but he and Sherri couldn't ever pass a piss test for CPS and now those kids' daddy is the State of Nevada.
It'd been tough getting by ever since my old man left, and it wasn't ever easier with Mark living at the house and not working. We were always right on the border. I was in the free-breakfast crowd before school, and no one ever accused me of being rich after Alex fucking Stoker caught me wearing a sweatshirt that he gave to Goodwill the year before. But we were never broke broke. We had the same house we're in now, even if the lawn's been dead for ten years and Mark never fixed the hole he kicked in the back fence, so that we have to keep the dog tied to the locust tree. Back before his revelation, it wasn't hardly fair for that black dog. Mark would get into one of his moods, and he'd kick the dog around the tree like we used to do with a tether ball at school, and the dog'd get the rope wound up to the point where he couldn't run any more and would have to sit there against the tree and take his beating. I felt sorry for the old dog, but better him than me.
My mom never forgot that she was his big sister. She's better than both of us in that way. Family or not, I couldn't have given a damn what happened to Mark, and I'd guess he'd have said the same about me. But family was more important for her. She told everyone that she was grateful to have a man around the house, but really I think she just felt sorry for him. Every once in a while he'd steal her purse for her tip money, or one time when she wouldn't go to the store to buy him a bottle he broke all the windows in the living room. But mostly he left her alone. Mostly he liked to fuck with the dog. The dog and me.
The first time I brought a girl over was in the eighth grade, when I got Melinda Stevens to ditch cross-country practice for me. I knew that my mom would still be at work, and Mark had been gone for a couple of days, so I figured I was golden. That whole afternoon before school let out, all I had was pussy on the brain. When we got in the house Mark was in the back yard sitting against the tree, passed out with the dog in his lap. He was about ten feet away from the slider in the living room, but fuck it, I thought, and so I threw on Raiders of the Lost Ark and got Melinda over onto the couch. She was a little weirded out by Mark in the back yard, but she forgot about it by the time I started kissing on her neck. I'd been staring at Melinda's tits since the first day of junior high, so when I started working at the back of her bra I felt like Indiana Jones switching that bag of sand for the gold statue.
Most guys in middle school look at a bra strap like it's the Pythagorean Theorem, but I'd been getting ready for this for a while now. When nobody was home, I'd take one of the bras out of the bottom drawers of my mom's dresser and strap it to a pillow to practice taking off the hook. I'd got to the point where I could undo it with one hand with my eyes closed, but it's a whole lot trickier with somebody inside the bra. When I opened my eyes to take a peek at the goddamn bra hook the first thing I saw was Mark still sitting against the tree, staring at me through the slider.
It was like he'd been waiting for me to see him, and when I did he stood straight up and walked over to the slider. I barely had time to say shit before he opened the door and was after me. I heard Melinda yell something, but I couldn't understand any of the words. I took a swing at Mark, just to make a show of if for Melinda, but a second later he had me down, pushing my face into the rug. After it was all over and Melinda had run out the front door, he sat on my chest and pinned my arms to the floor. He got his face right up next to mine, and said that thirteen was too damn young to knock somebody up. I still don't know if he actually cared about me, or if he just couldn't handle seeing me happy for five minutes. But he never did tell my mom. That was something.
Just about the only peace we had in the time since Mark moved in was the three years he did in Elko on a possession charge, but I'd have even given that up if I'd known he'd just come back ten times meaner.
By the time he got out, I was one of only two guys selling weed at Reno High. All the tennis team and ski team kids would use their gas money or the money from their tennis lessons to get high. We'd meet in the bathroom at school or in the Jack-in-the-Box parking lot and I'd charge them forty, sixty bucks for a dime bag. The kids that I knew didn't have a ton of money—the free-lunch crowd and some of the Mexican kids that didn't even get free lunch because they're illegal immigrants—I'd charge them regular prices. Social justice, right?
When Mark came back from prison, it took him about two seconds to find the stash in the shoebox under my bed. That fucker was like a goddamn bloodhound. Back then I was only selling an ounce or two broken up into about five hundred baggies, so it's not like it was huge money when he took it all. But still, a couple hundred bucks is a couple hundred bucks. And there wasn't exactly much I could do when I came home and found the shoebox empty. Mark would be at the kitchen table with that smug-as-shit look on his face, all I could do was say, "what's up, fucker?" and go to my room.
We got into this routine where, no matter where I hid it, he'd raid my stash every couple weeks. It got so that I had to build the weed Mark took into my prices, which no one was too happy about. Around then I was just starting to move in some serious weight. No more ounces—pounds, man. I'd sort of teamed up with Isaiah Hernandez, the other guy selling at Reno High, and once a month we'd make the five-hour drive over the hill to Mendocino to pick up from three burned out hippies with a five-acre plantation in the mountains. I'm not the dumbest guy in the world, though, and pretty soon I came up with a system to cut down on my losses to Mark: I'd still put a quarter or so in the shoebox, like a sacrifice I'd leave on the altar for that fucker. I figured that if I left this little bit he'd think he had everything I was good for, and wouldn't tear the house apart looking for the rest. And sure as the fucking sun rising, every ten days or so it'd be gone.
There was a skinny little crawl space under the back of the house, and when nobody was around I'd get down and crawl back in there with the earwigs and black widows and hide my real stash. I crawled my ass back there so many times that I started to like it, actually. I'd lie there on my back, my nose almost touching the joists, and I'd turn off the flashlight and listen to the floorboards and the television going in the living room.
After a while I started noticing other things missing from my room—an X-Box game one day, a pocket knife another time—and I started to worry about leaving my important stuff in a place where Mark could get to it. So I took anything that was worth a damn and I put it down in the crawlspace under the living room. I took down the little binder of basketball cards that I'd had since I was a kid, and a couple of notes I'd kept from a girl that had moved away a few months before, and an old silver belt buckle that had a chunk of turquoise on it the size of a tater tot. It was the only thing that my dad left behind for me when he jumped ship. Or that's what my mom said, anyway, the day she gave it to me when I was old enough to hold onto it myself.
Things were always the worst when Mark had his hands on some crystal. You'd know he was on a runner because he'd be gone for a few days, then would come home and tear the shit out of the place looking for something to sell. All the change I kept in a bottle on my dresser would be gone, and he'd take some strange damn thing like the alarm clock or the blender. When he did show up he'd be bug-eyed and grinding his jaw like he was chewing on a bike tire. Me and my mom would just clear out when he was like that. We'd head down to the Pioneer Casino back before they tore it down to put in a parking lot, and we'd sit at the diner counter and have about forty cups of coffee and wait for Mark to do whatever he was going to do. A couple times, if it was late, she'd call my aunt Lena and we'd stay with her and Lou. Lena's not my real aunt—she's just a Mexican woman that's been my mom's best friend since I don't know when. But I'd pick them for family over Mark in a heartbeat.
By this time I wasn't just some sad-sack kid anymore, and Mark was getting older and slower and more dried up. He was only probably forty-five, and my mom still called him Baby Brother, but he looked like he was heading toward sixty. After school Isaiah and I would go to the busted-ass excuse for a gym that we'd made in his mom's back yard and curl five-gallon buckets filled with dirt and talk about our next run to Mendo or how much ass we were going to pull that weekend, so that by the time high school was done I looked like the white version of Floyd Mayweather. Anymore, it wasn't Mark that was beating on me so much as we'd beat up on each other. A couple times a month we'd trash the place pushing each other around, then we'd sit down on the at same sofa and split an eighteener and a bowl and we'd be all right for a couple weeks again.
After I started to stick up for myself a little, things weren't half bad. I'd still leave the baggies for Mark in the shoebox, and there was a sort of peace that came over the house. My mom noticed it too. I could tell by how happy she looked when she came home and me and Mark would be sitting next to each other on the back stoop, smoking cigarettes and shooting pebbles at the coffee can on the other side of the yard. She didn't ever ask why me and Mark were so friendly all of a sudden, if that's what you want to call it. She was probably afraid she'd jinx it by saying it out loud.
I'm not going to act like the only reason Mark was easier to get along with was because I whipped his ass once or twice. It was the fact that all the crystal in town had dried up after the feds made it damn near impossible for the cookers up in the North Valleys to buy the allergy medicine they needed to make their bathtub meth.
When the cookers got put out of business it took a few months for the new batches to start coming up from Mexico. And boy, you can be sure Mark was at the front of the line for that rodeo. Mom and I didn't even have to say anything when he showed back up at the house after six days gone. We just drove straight down to the Pioneer. If you haven't been around someone on a runner—and I'm talking about someone on a good, solid two-week runner, now—things have a way of going from bad to worse in a hurry. I've seen normal folks go half-crazy in a couple days. And people like Mark that are half-crazy to begin with—well—you can figure. When mom and I went back to the house after a couple days at Lena and Lou's, of course the baggie that I'd left in the shoebox was gone, along with my DVD's and all the framed-up family pictures we had of me and my mom and my old man from before he split. I can't imagine what crazy-assed idea he had for turning those pictures into cash. That's tweaker logic for you. Chances are they were just sitting in a dumpster behind a pawnshop.
My mom put her purse down on the couch and started to cry. I knew it was because of the pictures, and because she knew she'd have to spend the rest of her life with a son-of-a-bitch brother around. Then something occurred to me, and I went out the slider to the back yard. That dog was still tied to the tree, but he had that sort of shell-shocked look like Isaiah had for a couple days after that Salvadorian stuck a gun in his face on Sutro outside the roller rink. I shouldn't have been surprised by what I saw next, but I was. The little piece of plywood that was propped over the hole to the crawlspace was leaning up against a busted flowerpot, and a one-by-six piece of fence planking was sticking out from under the house.
You have to give the tweakers their ingenuity. You've got to say that much. When I pulled back on the plank there was something heavy on the other side, and I could see where Mark had tacked a couple nails to attach it to the next plank. At the end of the second plank he'd nailed a big hook he'd made from a couple coat hangers. When I went back to the kitchen for a flashlight I was shaking like I'd just been in a fight. My mom was still on the couch pinching between her eyes. I went back outside and got on my stomach and shimmied under the house. I didn't want to see what he'd left behind, and when I got back to the spot under the living room where I'd kept it all, I damn near started to cry. The only thing left was the book of basketball cards, which I guess he couldn't hook since it was stuck behind a four-by-four. I'm not the type to pray to God, but I guess I'd been praying that he hadn't hooked that belt buckle. When I aimed the flashlight around the spiders' nests and joists and all I saw was dirt and tarpaper, I felt like I just lost everything I had in the world. I rolled on my back and turned off the flashlight. Through the floor I could hear my mom in the living room right above me, hear the sound of her crying.
I don't know how long I stayed under the house, but I started to get calm down there in the dark, and pretty soon I knew what I'd do next. I got out from under the house and called Isaiah to put in the order for a gram and a half of crystal. I walked down to the 7-Eleven at the corner of Fifth and Keystone and bought a Gatorade and some chips and waited for Isaiah. When he finally showed I gave him all the money I had in my pockets—almost a hundred bucks—and walked back up to the house. My mom was on the front step smoking. I didn't think she could have known about the stuff under the house, but when I came up all she said was, "Sorry, baby."
I made sure that my mom was still out on the front step, then I dumped the crystal out of the baggie and onto the kitchen counter. It was already pretty fine, but I took out my driver's license and cut and ground it up a little more. Then I went into the garage and had a look around. There was an open box of powdered weed killer and a jar of dry detergent on the shelf above the washer, and I figured those were close enough. I dumped out about the same amount of weed killer and detergent as there was crystal, and I began to cut and chop and mix the two with my license, so that pretty soon I had about three grams of powder. I scooped it all back into the baggie. Then I went back to my room and put the baggie into the shoebox in the back of my closet.
It took another two days for Mark to show back up at the house. He looked like he'd gotten into a hornet nest—his arms were covered in scabs from where he'd been scratching at himself. Me and Lou used to call them "speed bumps." Meth heads are always covered with them. His eyes were bloodshot, and the corners of his elbows were all bruises and puss, and that's when I knew for sure that he was shooting up.
He was edgy as hell that first afternoon. He spent half the time looking at the walls like the house was about to fall in on him, and the other half chain smoking cigarettes on the front step. When my mom asked him about the pictures, said she just wanted to go buy them back out of hock, he turned to her and twisted his head and said, "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, and I don't like the fucking way you're talking about it." He was walking at her, and had her backed up into a corner of the room by the time he stopped talking. I almost said something back, but I kept my mouth shut and walked back down the street for another Gatorade.
When I checked up on the shoebox the next day the baggie was gone. Mark was still upright, being his usual asshole self, and I started to worry he'd sold off the stuff to some tweaker friend of his, or that he'd maybe even figured out what I was up to. But then the next day shit went down in a hurry.
Lou and I had just got high as hell in his car downtown, and we went back to my house for some of the green bean casserole my mom had made the night before. When we pulled up, Mark was in his usual spot on the porch, except his face was this weird sort of white like when you leave the cream cheese out on the counter overnight. He was leaned up against the house and was holding a wad of Kleenex up to his mouth. Lou asked what the fuck was wrong, and Mark perked right up to call Lou a half-Spic, except that when he said it he pulled the Kleenex away for a second and we could see that his gums were bleeding pretty bad. I knew for sure that he hadn't sold off the crystal I'd left in the box, and I started to get jumpy.
I was in it now. Lou tried to get me to go to a kickback with his family down by Ralston Park, but I said I didn't want to go to any Mexican quinceañera if I didn't have to. It sounded a little meaner than I meant it to, but Lou just laughed and said he'd call later.
For the next couple hours it was like watching a motor run out of gas. It got to be so when Mark walked out to the front step for a smoke it was like he'd run a mile in quicksand. He'd sit on the couch and stare at his toes like he was afraid they'd float off if he stopped watching them. I wish I could tell you that I felt as cool as I had when I was chopping up that plant killer, but I was starting to get really nervous. It was just after three and my mom would be back from work around seven, but there wasn't a damn thing to do except wait for him to fall over. I had it all figured out—if I called the cops when he was just about dead, everyone'd assume he'd got hold of some bad speed. Case closed. But by the time Mark started staggering and heaving all over the house screaming that he was dying, that plan didn't sound so hot. Every time I asked him something, or told him to quiet down, he would just look at me with these crooked eyes that looked like they were tired and scared at the same time.
Like I said before, I'm not someone that asks for a whole lot from God. But my mom would be home in about forty minutes, and I made a promise to God or whoever hears this sort of nonsense that if Mark stayed conscious until she got home I'd call the hospital and tell them everything. I just didn't want to be alone with him in that house anymore. But whoever I was praying to must not have been listening, because about ten seconds later I looked over and he was unconscious on the couch in front of the TV. There was this string of blood and snot about a foot long, hanging out of his nose like a red shoelace.
Well, I don't know what kind of mess I expected to go down after I'd put enough tree poison in that bag of crystal to kill a forest, but all I wanted was to be out of there. Just to run. But I couldn't bring myself to just leave him alone on the couch like that. So what I did was grab him by the shoulders and sort of shake him. By then I was a mess. I was crying and shaking him and begging him not to die. I was half-crazy with being so scared, and all I remember was asking him what he did with the belt buckle. It was a stupid thing, but that's what I remember saying, over and over.
The funny thing was, when I started to shake him he did come around a bit. He didn't open his eyes, but he coughed out that red shoelace, and then he was sort of shivering and hiccupping at the same time. So I left him there on the couch for a second, and ran to the kitchen and called 9-1-1.
St. Mary's Hospital is only a few blocks away, and the paramedics were knocking at the front door in about twenty seconds. Even then I remember thinking it was strange that they'd knocked.
As soon as they got in the house, one of the paramedics, this Arab kid that looked younger than me, took out a pair of scissors and cut open Mark's shirt right across where it said 2001 NFC Champs. The other medic, a butch-lesbian in her forties, started strapping wires and needles to Mark. If he'd woke up to see an Arab and a bull lesbian standing over him he'd of thought he'd died and gone straight to hell. But at the time, I wasn't thinking about anything funny like that. If you want to know, I wasn't even thinking of Mark that much. Mostly, I was thinking that my mom would be getting off her shift in five minutes, and that it'd just about kill her to come home and find her baby brother all wired up and half-dead on the living room floor.
But then the kid said something into the radio on his shoulder and they popped Mark onto a gurney and the next thing you know I was alone in the house. I picked up all the little plastic tabs and bits of gauze off the floor and worried about how I was going to tell my mom. But when she came through the door it was pretty easy. She looked tired, like she always did at the end of her work week, and I hated to put any more on her but before she could say anything I just said, "Mark OD'd. They took him to the hospital."
She didn't even seem surprised. I mean, sure, she was worried. But she wasn't surprised.
She slept down in the lobby at the ICU for the next few days, but I steered clear. She was trying her best to be there for her baby brother, and I was trying my best to stay home and keep high as hell. I didn't want to think about what'd happen if Mark woke up and pointed the finger at me for trying to kill him with bad cut, or if the cops figured it out on their own and turned me into a prison bitch for the rest of my life.
After four days, my mom called to say that Mark was "out of the woods." But just because you're out of the woods doesn't mean you're any place good. I knew something was up when my mom said they were moving him straight from the ICU to the psych ward, and I started to worry that maybe I'd retarded him or something. It had never occurred to me that there might be something worse than having that son-of-a-bitch around.
Well, I don't know if "retarded" is the word for it, but something had sure happened to that old boy's already fucked-up brain. The way my mom tells it, since it was a Catholic hospital the only thing they had around in Mark's room on the psych ward was a book, and that book happened to be the Book. My mom said that in those first few days when his brain was unmelting he didn't say a word, just kept dipping a finger somewhere in the middle of the Bible and staring at the page like he was reading it.
When he started to talk about a week later, it was pretty clear that the weed killer and detergent had done something with the old Mark and that he wouldn't be back. All the old Mark's piss and vinegar had been swapped out for something else. About ten days later he finally came home. His head was shaved clear down to his bumpy skull, and all he had with him was a sack with the clothes they'd took him to Saint Mary's in. They even put in that old St. Louis Rams shirt they'd cut down the middle. It was the first time I'd seen him in almost three weeks and I damn near didn't recognize him. It wasn't that he looked so different. It was more that this new Mark carried himself differently than old Mark had. More softly.
When the new Mark came back home from St. Mary's, he said hello to me as if he'd just got back from vacation, asked how I'd been. It's been like that ever since. The new Mark isn't the asshole that the old one was, but he creeps the hell out of me anyway. Lou won't even come around the house hardly. Lou says that he preferred the old Mark who'd hit him upside the head and tell him to swim back to Mexico.
I know what he means, too. Now, instead of calling Lou a wetback and bumming a smoke, the new Mark will start in on sections of Revelations that got mashed into that wet concrete of a brain when he was in the hospital. I don't blame Lou for not wanting to be around, either. I catch myself looking back on the old Mark the same way my mom did when she used to talk about him before his accident, when she used to call him "handsome." Just about the only person who likes the new Mark is that broken-down old dog. Now, instead of running around the tree to get away from a beating, he'll sit on the new Mark's lap against the locust tree and listen to Mark tell him, "for true and righteous are his judgments, for he hath judged the great white whore, which did corrupt the earth with her fornication."
That's not the end of his craziness, either. He's started this bit where he'll spell things out to you, like you're a four-year-old that can't read. He'll tell me, "Will, you don't know it, but you are a S-I-N-N-E-R and you will be P-U-N-I-S-H-E-D." Usually I just ignore it, or tell him, "Mark, you ought to S-H-U-T-T-H-E-F-U-C-K-U-P," but it spooks me, all his weird new ways. Three times in that first month he was back from the hospital I woke up with the new Mark touching me. Just had a finger on my ear or in my hair or something like that. When it first happened I thought it was the old Mark come back for me, but when I jumped up out of bed and was standing in my boxers with my fists up, ready to throw down, it was just that empty new Mark.
One day this spring Lou and I were passing a spliff on the back porch when Mark walked by, calm as hell, and said, "And that woman which thou sawest is that great city, which reigneth over the kings of the earth," and walked off. Lou laughed his ass off when he heard that, but I couldn't get myself to laugh with him. Instead, I was thinking of the old Mark, the one that pinned me down in front of Melinda Stevens. How he was so close I could see the hairs in his nose and the broken veins in his cheeks, and I wondered what was different between that Mark and me. I thought about that turquoise belt buckle, and my mom back at work, and Mark's two little girls out there somewhere with their new foster family. I listened to Lou laughing at the new Mark, who was walking over to pet the dog tied up to the tree, and I couldn't see how we were much different at all.
Gabriel Urza worked as a public defender for several years in Reno, Nevada, before earning his MFA in fiction at the Ohio State University. His first novel, All That Followed, will be published by Henry Holt and Co. in spring of 2015.


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Hello again Racing Ears,
Well this was my last event of the year. It was the 2016 CSRG Charity Challenge at Sonoma Raceway. It was a fun event that had a whole slough of cars that made it this week. This journal cast is my attempt to make a 4 channel "poor man's surround sound" if you will track to possibly improve my way of recording auto racing cars on the track. This track contains sounds of Formula Atlantic, Can Am, and Formula 5000. I think that the quality sounds a little bit more defined than my usual way of recording. Please let me know what you think because your feedback is what I need to put me on the right foot towards my Nobel Peace Prize. Thanks again for your support and I hope to hear from you.
Thanks again for listening to The Racing Ear Journal.


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The Women in Intellectual Property Networking Event run by the American Intellectual Property Law Association (AIPLA) was held for its seventh year in various non-European countries on May 22, 2014. Numerous events were concurrently held in various geographic locations by law firms, corporations and/or universities
Each event included professional networking for women located in a respective geographic region, who practise IP Law and/or are regularly faced with IP issues in the course of ordinary business. Additionally, each event included seated dinners, cocktail parties, or passed hors d'hoeuvres
First Meeting In India
The First meeting in AIPLA's Women in IP in India took place in New Delhi. Hosted by LexOrbis, the meeting aimed to provide networking opportunities to women practising intellectual property law weather in-house or otherwise.
This AIPLA event was held across the world in 23 countries and is the first in India. Manisha Singh Nair, the partner-in charge at LexOrbis and a member of AIPLA, who took the initiative to bring this chapter to India welcomed over 50 female IP professionals at the meeting held at the India Habitat Centre. Request a free trial to read more.


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Serzh SARGSYAN, President of the Republic of Armenia
Let me greet all the participants and guests of the international conference "Regional Security Dynamics in the South Caucasus". The importance of the topic of the Conference is verified both regarding the security interests of the regional states and the authority and influence of the present specialists and experts.
The geopolitical processes occurring in the South Caucasus are complex and often difficult to foresee, are under the influence of regional and extra-regional power centers' interest pooling and competition. This fact creates both additional opportunities and certain challenges for the regional states.
Armenia's foreign policy is based on the logic of both regional and global actors' interest pooling, mutually advantageous cooperation with them and mutual respect.
We are sure that the open borders and the implementation of common economic programs can become the best incentive for the mutual understanding and trust environment formation, consequently, for the settlement of political problems. Meanwhile, the policy aimed at creating the separation lines between regional states will inevitably lead to the atmosphere of instability and distrust in the whole South Caucasus.
The critical challenges facing the region are the unresolved conflicts which needs a comprehensive and final solution. Many times we reiterated our solid will that the existing conflicts can be settled only by peaceful negotiations on the basis of fundamental principles of international law. I am confident that the OSCE Minsk Group format is the only acceptable platform for the peaceful settlement of the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict.
We are deeply convinced that a long lasting peace and stability can be achieved in the region only in case the Nagorno Karabakh population's physical security and the right to independently decide its fate are guaranteed.
The arms race unleashed by Azerbaijan which is being implemented by numerously exceeding the ceilings set by the Treaty on Conventional Armed Forces in Europe (CFE) is a cause for concern regarding the security perspective not only for Armenia and the South Caucasus, but also for the region on a larger scale. Under these conditions Armenia is forced to focus greater attention on modernizing its defense system as a key factor in containing the belligerent ambitions and ensuring stability in the region.
The energy factor also plays an essential role in the geopolitical developments of the South Caucasus. Armenia understands the policy targeted at the diversification of energy supply sources and routes, meanwhile Armenia considers that the new energy projects should not be used to upset the power equilibrium established in the region. Such a policy is not only a threat to the security of separate states in the region but also may seriously endanger the uninterrupted functioning of the transit routes of energy sources. We should not allow the Southern Energy Corridor to become a source for feeding a new war. This meets neither the interests of the regional security, nor those of oil and gas companies.
Nowadays, the interconnection of security and development is already an axiom. In accordance with this position, we initiated the process of Armenian-Turkish rapprochement in 2008 offering as a first step the establishment of diplomatic relations and opening of the border without preconditions.
Armenia today also adheres to the principles that it had declared before initiating this process. And it should be mentioned that for implementing the international legal obligations today relevant political will from Turkey is needed.
Realizing the importance of professional consulting support in making state-level strategic decisions Armenia highly evaluates the significance of conferences with participation of international reputable analysts, as they provide an opportunity to consider the regional issues at an expert level and to propose possible optimal resolutions.
Good luck in the Conference and productive work.


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Will we meet you @ VII EWDSy?
VII EWDSy will start in:
The Organising Committee thanks everyone for making the XI EWDD and Mu.Ta.Lig. so amazing!!
Prof. Maurizio Botta,
Iuni, Mattia, Anna Lucia, Giulio, Ylenia,
Amalia, Diego, Claudia, Alessandro
FIRST IN THIS KIND, the European Workshop in Drug Design has always been a UNIQUE OPPORTUNITY for graduate students, postdocs and scientists from both Academia and Pharma Industry to celebrate computer-aided drug design and discovery in an EXCITING and COLLABORATIVE environment, looking at an impressive sight of the city of Siena from a monastic complex in the heart of the Chianti and Tuscany and enjoying Italian hospitality and participating to HIGHLY INTERACTIVE HANDS-ON case studies.
So, DON'T MISS THE XI EWDD: fix the date in your calendar and come to share you passion for Drug Design and contribute to make this edition of the EWDD the best yet!
Topics will cover latest development in computer-aided drug design, including:
Advanced techniques in Molecular Dynamics simulations
Big data management
Novel tools in Bioinformatics
The use of free online tools
- In silico PK prediction
And much more...
...without forgetting the bases of molecular modelling!
The kickoff photo
XI EWDD is in collaboration with:
Mu.Ta.Lig. Cost Action CA 15135


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Kingdom Kids is a Sunday morning children's program for kid's grade 1-5.
What can you expect?
Children will worship with their parents in the sanctuary until dismissed from the service.
Children will sit and listen to an engaging lesson together, taught by our "Shepherds", followed by a creative craft that helps to make the lesson memorable lead by our "Hands". The Kingdom Kids format intentionally matches the adult format allowing for a better transition from children's service to an adult service. Parents are always welcome to sit in on the lessons and partake of the truths their children are being taught.
How can I serve?
Kingdom Kids is intentionally set up to be service friendly.
You don't need to be a Bible scholar to participate. If you have administration skills or just like working with children, there is a spot for you! And our curriculum is built to give our Shepherds all the information needed to teach a Kingdom Kids lesson. We currently have a 2-week on 6-week off rotation. Hands are responsible for craft time, which is always a joy to partake of. The more creative the better!


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Need help? Call us at(800) 332-6576
Live a healthy, balanced lifestyle while minimizing your impact on the environment with outdoor clothing, sportswear and athletic apparel from All Sport.
1780 Forrest Way Carson City, NV 89706
(800) 332-6576
(877) 813-7626 (fax)
Contact Us
Contact us on Facebook
Suggestions & Comments
© 2019 Blank Shirts, Inc. All Rights Reserved.


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Since many males probably have the same questions that many female models have. Here are my thoughts on how a male model can mail their photos to an agency and hopefully get some work editorial modeling in magazines:
Males in women's magazines: Cosmo, Marie Claire Glamour, Shape, and Redbook. You see guys in these magazines too. The best thing is to look through magazines first, yes some women's magazines, so you are able to tell which magazines have used male models but not in a high fashion style but more in a lifestyle photograph that co-sides with an article or editorial in a magazine. More and more males are being used in women's magazines such as Cosmo. Also look into magazines even like Maxim, Details, Esquire, GQ, they need models but not always fashion male models. Style your photos similar to what you see in these magazines.
Also male models are also good for PARTS modeling, hands, feet, eyes, and body -but not just because they are buff and stud-like but because they are needed for ads for shaving products, even skincare, glasses/contacts, and hair care, and computer ads, and commercials similar to State Farm, McDonalds, so many things. But the best thing for a male to do.
Putting that smile and personality to use: Remember you'll need a smiling headshot.
Since the world is so much more commercial, meaning that there are so many products available for a mass market of consumers there is a need for models of all types which is why models of both sexes should create photos that sell them in many ways so they do not limit themselves.
Commercial print modeling is not talked about as much as fashion but yet commercial print is the largest sector of the modeling business. Make sure you understand what print modeling is. Models are needed by many advertisers and magazines of all kinds, and brands not just high fashion.
The idea is understand marketing and to know where you fit and create/produce the photos you need to best market yourself. When it comes to mailing agencies, you have to make sure you send a photo that has their eye in mind, what I mean is think about what they might be looking for, a photo that matches the vibe of the modeling work you can realistically get and modeling work that agencies books.
Also I made a list of NYC's top ten commercial print modeling agencies for print work for models to submit to for print, these agencies will work for male's as well. Males do not have to be a certain height or weight, as you can see from the website's of these agencies male models are needed in the commercial print world just as much as females. But personality counts!
Here is the link: http://petitemodelingtips.blogspot.com/2009/01/top-10-commercial-print-modeling.html
If you are not based in NYC area I would focus on submitting your photos to print agencies and talent agencies in your area. There is a lot of behind the scenes, and prep work that needs to be done before you start marketing yourself as a model. Make sure you have professional photos, a compcard and understand what exclusive and non-exclusive modeling is about as well:
More on male modeling: http://www.petitemodelingtips.com/2010/01/male-print-modeling-question-answered.html


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A drink-driving female motorist who drove her car into another woman before fleeing the scene of the collision has been jailed for more than two years.
Anita Duggan, aged 30, of Basil Avenue, Armthorpe, drove her Vauxhall Vectra into a 32-year-old woman following an argument on August 25 last year.
After manoeuvring her car several times Duggan drove into the woman, trapping her against the vehicle next to her.
She then drove off from the scene, leaving the victim with serious injuries that led to her remaining in hospital for two weeks following the incident.
Duggan had been drinking prior to the crash, which occurred in a car park next door to a pub on Balby Road.
Duggan pleaded guilty at Sheffield Crown Court to causing serious injury by dangerous driving and driving while over the prescribed limit.
She was sentenced to a total of 32 months and banned from driving for two years.
Detective Constable Andy Gray, from Doncaster CID, said afterwards: "This case highlights the dramatic consequences that driving while over the limit can have.
"Duggan was more than twice the drink-drive limit.
"The message is clear – the only safe amount of alcohol to drink when driving is zero."


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- CEAMNY.org (Childbirth Education Association of Metropolitan New York)
- Thebirthsurvey.com
- Choices In Childbirth
Midwives and Doctors:
- Homebirth Midwives nyhomebirth.com
- Dr Russell 212 741-7800
- Margaret Sikowitz 917 664-4225 www.sikowitz.com
- Element Healing Arts www.elementhealing.com
- Brooklyn Acupuncture Project www.brooklynacupunctureproject.com
Pelvic Floor Work:
- Lara Kohn Thompson www.larakohnthompson.com
- Lindsey Greene Vestal The Functional Pelvis
NYC Meal delivery:
- Provenance Meals www.provenancemeals.com
Lactation Consultants:
- Kate Sharp 212-595-1627 www.katesharpibclc.com
- Freda Rosenfeld 718-469-5990
- Marilynn Karas 646-220-2968
Birth Box for New Moms:
Looking for the right gift for your friend who is having a baby?
Look no further.
These boxes are lovingly put together using my 12 years of knowledge working with new mothers.
Each box contains thirteen organic items that will help a new mom through those first few weeks at home with baby.
For example: Mother's Milk Tea, Peppermint oil, Coconut Oil, Maxi Pads and Witch Hazel, chux pads, and much more.
Each item is beautifully packaged with a handwritten label explaining in detail how to use it.
Get your friend a box of new motherhood secrets.
Contact me at firstname.lastname@example.com to order
- Tribeca Pediatrics tribecapediatrics.com
- Brooklyn Heights Pediatrics Dr. Jana Dehovitz 718 237-2122 15 Pierrepont Street
- Pediatric Associates 20 Plaza Street East 718 857-5500 www.pediatricassociatesnyc.com
- Premier Pediatrics 110 4th Avenue 718 369-0817 www.premierpediatricsnyc.com
- Dr. Gilgoff 185 Montague Street 718 780-2334 www.drgilgoff.com
- Emily Blake 917 405-0696 mymohel.com
- Dorothy Greenbaum brisdoctor.com
- Cantor Philip Sherman 212 595-0132 holisticcircumcision.com
Infant CPR:
- Mitch Cynamon Initiatecare.com
Prenatal and Postpartum Fitness:
- Everyday Athlete Studio Alejandra Belmar 136 Union Street 718 852-6300 everydayathletestudio.com
Prenatal Massage:
Prenatal Yoga:
Local therapists and psychiatrists:
Please contact firstname.lastname@example.com for referrals. I work very closely with a few local providers.


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Even on the road, the Birmingham boys' soccer team made itself feel right at home.
The Patriots agreed to move their scheduled home match Wednesday to El Camino Real's field after the Lake Balboa campus was put on high-alert when administrators received a call that someone had allegedly brought a gun on to school grounds.
But it made no difference to Birmingham as it secured its first West Valley League title since 2008 with a 1-0 victory over the Conquistadores.
"I think we have played really well in the last five games," Birmingham coach E.B. Madha said. "We settled down and our defensive shape has gotten better than earlier in the season."
And that shape has taken good form as Birmingham (15-4-3, 6-2-1) has allowed just one goal in its past five matches. Spearheading the defensive resurgence for the Patriots has been the backline of Bryan Hernandez, Erik Corona and Andy Garcia.
"We talk more and help each other out more," Garcia said. 'When we lost the two league games we were arguing with each other. Now we're playing together. We put our differences aside."
Birmingham scored in the 36 th minute on Manny Ornelas' 20 th goal of the season.
Ornelas took a pass from David Turcios, raced down the right sideline, and beat ECR goalkeeper Francisco Rodriguez, who came outside the 6-yard box to challenge the play.
"When the keeper came out, I knew I would score," said Orneals, who has combined with Turcios to score 41 goals this season. "The keeper gave me a wide open look at the goal."
El Camino Real (7-5-7, 3-1-5) had several chances in the second half, but was constantly thwarted by the Patriots' back line.
The Conquistadores had eight shots in the second half, including a header by Lucas Ladek off a corner kick by Ricky Silva in the 49 th minute.
But Birmingham goalkeeper Gerson Mejicanos, who finished with six saves, made a diving stop along the goal line.


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Congress votes away our Civil Liberites – Again!
Posted Under: Letters to the Editor
Letter to the Editor – Tell me if I sound pissed off!!
Some people object to the words "Under God" in our Pledge of Allegiance but tonight find the words "Liberty and Justice for all" even more offensive. Tonight Congress voted away our liberty so they could start their summer vacation without delay. They voted to let Bush spy on us without a warrant.
I am disgusted on a level I've never experienced before. Please quit calling America a free nation when we give up our freedom by voting it away. I feel as if I should burn a flag but I question if the flag it worthy of burning because it no longer stands for anything. Our soldiers in Iraq are not even dying for the illusion of freedom anymore. We are a nation of dishonest cowards.
I have to ask the question, if the Democrats can't stand up to Bush how the hell are they going to stand up to terrorists? Bin Laden is free and we aren't. The terrorists are laughing at us tonight. They say they hate us because we're free. That reason is now gone.


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"Wood is what is exciting about this generation of jazz." -JazzTimes
"If jazz is going to survive in the new generation, it will take inventive risk taking artists like Wood to drive this genre to connect to the listener of today." - All About Vocals
"Her alto is both powerful and pliable, capable of Betty Carter-like flights of fancy…" -All About Jazz
"Wood has an unique ability to get all ears and feet engaged immediately with her clever originals."-All About Jazz
"Wood's moderate vibrato at the end of each line and astonishing vocal range inject her phrasing with a dramatic effect, quite effective in conveying the emotions of a song." -JazzTimes
"At her core is a certain poised softness that elevates her to glide over the material, without ever losing contact with it." -Washington City Paper
"Listening to what resulted on "Kaleidoscope" was like listening to Robert Glasper's "Black Radio" for the first time. You take a breath and realize that the world has just become a very different place." - Travis Rogers Jr., The Jazz Owl
"Kaleidoscope is truly a calling card of inventive, articulate, well-conceived, well- executed performances, led by a vocalist with commanding vocal prowess and pioneering ideas." - Constance Tucker, All About Vocals
"She has the voice and the feeling for this very important work…. She is there and she knows what to say so we want to listen." -Jim Compton-Schmidt, KFCF Fresno, CA


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Hey everyone! I'm excited to write my first post ever! I'm a Kindergarten teacher from Indiana. I do not have a blog of my own, but you can visit me over on my Facebook page or TPT store. I'm very thankful to Hilary for this opportunity to collaborate with other teachers and share some ideas with all our blog followers!
A few of my favorite things that I do in my classroom are my clip chart and Behavioropoly. This behavior system helps the classroom have a more positive environment.
What is a Clip Chart?
A clip chart is a behavior management system that allows students to move up the chart for good choices, or down the chart for poor choices. This system is much more effective than the typical "stoplight" system because you are rewarding good behavior. I like this system because my good students don't have to stay on green all day, like when I used a stoplight system. When you move a student up the chart for a good choice, you better believe everyone in class starts making better choices too, so you'll notice them. :) My students are very encouraging of each other and get excited when someone is on pink, even if it is not them.
My clip chart rules:
- students start on green every day and can move up & down throughout the day depending on choices
- students that get on pink (outstanding) receive a sticker and get to decorate their clip with a jewel (even the boys like this)
- if students are still on yellow, orange, or red at the end of the day, they lose some of their "fun with friends" (play time)
- once the student fills the front/back of their clothespin, they get to take it home and get a new one
What Do They Look Like?
The clip chart that I use is a small banner that I ordered off of {Vistaprint}. The clip chart on the left can be found {here} and then uploaded to Vistaprint.com and made into a small banner. I got mine a few years back for 6.99 + shipping because I found a 50% off coupon. It has lasted 4 years and is very durable. I use this website for personalized labels, stamps, notepads, etc.
The clip charts on the right can be found in my TPT store {here} and were created to fit many common classroom themes. These clip charts can be edited, if needed, so you can change the phrases on each color of the clip chart. These will print as individual signs, that you can laminate and make into a vertical banner yourself. These clip charts come as a packet with the forms (see below) that I use to go along with the clip chart.
parent explanation sheet behavior recording sheet outstanding stickers
I put the parent explanation sheet in a sheet protector in my student's daily folders. This way parents always know exactly what each color means and how the clip chart works. At the end of each day, I fill out the behavior recording sheet. I color in whatever color their child was on, and if needed, put comments. I don't comment too much, b/c it does take a little while to color in 23 folders. My students know that their parents check their folder nightly to see what color they were on. Many parents have commented on how much they love this clip chart system and some parents have started one at home.
Have you ever heard of Homeworkopoly? This is played the same way, but as a reward for behavior instead of doing homework. My students constantly ask if it is Friday yet, because they know that is when we get to play Behavioropoly. Students only get to play the game if they have had good behavior all week. This simple game works wonders! I like it because just like Monopoly, only a few spots are special. Therefore, I'm not having to spend a lot of money giving out prizes, and many of the spots/special cards aren't tangible items.
This website {teachnet} explains how to set up the game, how to play, and what the special spots mean. I actually got my cards from {Sandy Reed}. Her file opens up in Microsoft Word so you can edit all of the cards, however some of the images/text did shift a bit when I opened the file.
How to make the game:
-Print out all of the cards, cut to size, and glue around the edge of a poster board
-Use business card holders or library pockets to hold the Chance & Community Lunchbox cards
-Make a game piece for each child (magnets or objects attached to velcro)
How to play:
-Spread student's game pieces all around the board for the first time playing
-Each student will roll a dice and move that many spots around the game board
-If they land on a special spot, they get to draw a card or do what the spot says
Who gets to play:
-Students that have good behavior (green or above on the clip chart) all week
Thanks for reading til the end! :) I hope you have found a few ideas to help improve the behavior in your classroom and reward those students that always do the right thing! Do you have any great classroom management techniques? Please share in the comments.