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In the colloquium Muriel Blaive will outline her book project on memory politics in the Czech Republic. She will especially ponder on the conflation between memory and commemoration, research and activism, history and politics. The talk will broach five aspects: 1) the totalitarian paradigm adapted to the post-1989 Czech terrain; 2) an epistemology of the secret police file, and its instrumentalization; 3) oral history studies and the apparent paradox between an outward detestation of communism and a genuine nostalgia for communist times; 4) the relationship between legal prescriptions and academic quality, i.e. the law and context surrounding the creation of the Institute for the Study of Totalitarian Regimes in 2007; and 5) a reflection on collective memory manufacturing.
Muriel Blaive was until 2018 Advisor to the Director for Research and Methodology at the Institute for the Study of Totalitarian Regimes in Prague. In 2018-19 she is EURIAS Senior Fellow at the IWM.
Comments by Marci Shore ( Associate Professor of History, Yale University; IWM Visiting Fellow)


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This is a chance to experience of some of the beautiful parks, neighborhoods and attractions of Santiago. We will start in the Barrio Italia, pass through Plaza Italy and cycle along the edge of the Mapocho River. After a quick ride through... More»
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A radio ad that aired in Saskatchewan talking about "myths" about residential schools is drawing criticism from listeners.
The two-minute piece is from the Winnipeg-based Frontier Centre for Public Policy (FCPP), touted in the ad as a "reasoned, non-partisan voice on public policy." It begins with a question: "are Canadians being told the whole truth about residential schools?
"Myth: residential schools robbed Native kids of their childhood. In fact the average day was less than five years and the vast majority of Aboriginal youth never attended a residential school," the ad says.
"Myth: the harm that was done to those attending residential schools has been passed on to today's generation. In fact there is little evidence that abuse that was suffered by a grandparent had any affect on the academic success of the generations that followed," the ad continues.
It was posted to the FCPP's Soundcloud account for nine days, but was removed on Monday.
In a written statement to CBC News, the FCPP said the radio commentaries are "designed to reach a wider non-traditional audience" and that they're based on the items published by the centre.
It said Roger Currie, the man who voiced the piece, had "no editorial control" over the piece and was "simply a paid professional." The statement did not address concerns raised in reaction to the ad.
Tammy Robert, a media relations specialist and blogger based in Saskatoon, heard the ad in a coffee shop in an undisclosed Saskatchewan community as it aired.
"[I] sat there and listened to the entire thing, kind of in disbelief as to what I was hearing," said Robert.
Robert would not say what radio station she was listening to or where.
CBC News has confirmed that it was a station operated by Golden West Radio, a company based in Altona, Man. Golden West Radio operates radio stations in Swift Current, Humboldt, Moose Jaw, Estevan, Weyburn and Rosetown/Kindersley.
Robert said she was stunned at the presentation of residential school-related trauma as myths, and the use of the word "fact." She said she was compelled to comment and wrote a blog post.
"I'm an advocate for free speech and opinion but you have to be grounded in fact, and at this stage there's not a chance that those were facts. That's what struck me the most," she said.
Robert said she thought the piece was especially problematic as it was airing in rural Saskatchewan, an area she believe has "a racism issue."
"We've seen it play out time and time again and most prominently with the Gerald Stanley trial which created even more rural tension and racial tension in Saskatchewan. I just don't see the point of [the broadcast]," Robert said.
Ad's voice severs ties with FCPP
The ad was voiced by Winnipeg-based freelance radio personality Roger Currie.
Currie said he was "regretful" for his role in the piece and that he "made a bad call."
"That's not who I am," Currie said.
"I regret doing it. I apologize for any hurt and offence … that my participation may have caused. These are not my thoughts, but that's not a real, valid excuse."
Currie said he'd had a business relationship with FCPP for a number of years, voicing commentaries on business ideas he described as "banal."
'I can't escape': Life as a non-Indigenous student at the notorious St. Anne's residential school
When presented with the script about residential schools, Currie said he was hesitant but in the end, he said he took the word of Peter Holle, president of the FCPP, that the script was based on accurate research. Admittedly, Currie said, he didn't know if it was true or not.
"What can you say?" Currie said. "I have not read the Truth and Reconciliation report. Very few people have."
Currie says he's ended his relationship with the FCPP and won't accept work from them again.
'Time and time again'
Ry Moran, director of the National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation in Winnipeg, said it's a perspective he's not surprised to hear about.
"Canadians are hanging onto this narrative that the residential schools system was good with a few bad apples in it. That's not the case," he said.
"It was an inherently assimilative system, designed with the intent policy of forcibly converting Indigenous Peoples into something that they were not."
Moran said he believes that this is will a reality in Canada for years to come.
"That's the precise reason why we have a National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation to preserve the record of what happened in these residential schools. Not just for the purposes of educating and telling Canadians what happened, but also to ensure that the truth is documented and that we have the evidence for when people actually make assertions."


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From Software's Dark Souls Remastered will be arriving on the Nintendo Switch on October 19, 2018.
Announced on Twitter, From Software has confirmed that the delayed Nintendo Switch version of Dark Souls Remastered will be arriving in just a couple months.
Dark Souls Remastered released on PlayStation 4, Xbox One and PC on May 25 and our review of the remaster of 2011's Dark Souls said that it "delivers that same exhilarating experience and all its DLC, while offering noticeably sharper performance and a number of graphical enhancements."
As of yet, there has been no further word about the Solaire of Astora amiibo but hopefully that will be launching at or around the same time.
In April, we compiled a list of the major changes and differences between the original and this new remaster that said Dark Souls Remastered on the Nintendo Switch will run at 1080p at 30fps when docked and at 720p and 30fps when in handheld mode.
Dark Souls Remastered will launch for the Nintendo Switch on October 19, 2018, will include the Artorias of the Abyss DLC, but won't support cross-platform play for its multiplayer.
Adam Bankhurst is a news writer for IGN and his first "Dark Souls" game was Bloodborne and he can't wait to jump back into this version and do all he can vanquish all evil in that world. You can follow him on Twitter @AdamBankhurst.


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|This article is about a/an set of recurring stereotypical characters in the Power Rangers franchise.
Foot Soldiers or Enemy Grunts is the collective name for the army of henchmen that serves the main villains of a Power Ranger season. They are usually sent down to wear down the Rangers before the Monster-of-the-day attacks or create diversions while a more powerful minion carries out a phase of a plan. Often they can disguise themselves as humans for various missions. They can usually be defeated quite easily. In general, they possess extremely low intelligence and most of them are incapable of speech.
After they have been defeated in combat, the battered foot soldiers typically disappear or teleport away. In most cases, it is unclear whether this means that they are destroyed, or if they merely teleport back to their evil base to recover. There are a few exceptions to this: Z-Putties are clearly destroyed, as they are seen to break apart, whereas Tengas are clearly not destroyed, as they usually fly away after a battle. In Operation Overdrive, foot soldiers are frequently destroyed.
Foot Soldiers
These are standard foot soldiers and grunts in the Power Rangers franchise.
Elite Foot Soldiers
These are foot soldiers of a higher rank. They are generally stronger than normal soldiers and are commonly sent in much smaller numbers, with usually two or three accompanying a fleet. They are normally shown to have speaking capabilities and some can be grown giant to assist an already giant monster or villain.
Giant Foot Soldiers
These are foot soldiers or grunts that can fight against the rangers' zords. While they sometimes are nothing more than giant versions of standard footsoldiers, they can also be their own species. Usually, one or two of these monsters are sent at a time, usually in place of a monster or to distract the rangers. They can also be summoned, usually in pairs, to aide an already giant monster or villain.
List of Foot Soldiers By Series
Mighty Morphin Power Rangers
- Putty Patrollers - Used by Rita Repulsa in Season one
- Skeleton Warriors - Used by Bones in Season one
- Super Putty Patrollers - Upgraded Putties, used by Rita in Season One too
- Z Putty Patrollers - Used by Lord Zedd in Season two
- Tenga Warriors - Used by Zedd and Rita in Season three
- Maggots - Used by Count Dregon in Season three
Mighty Morphin Power Rangers: The Movie
- Oozemen - Used by Ivan Ooze
- Tengu Warriors - Used by Ivan Ooze
Power Rangers: Zeo
- Cogs - Used by the Machine Empire
- Tenga Warriors - Used by Zedd and Rita
Power Rangers: Turbo
- Piranhatrons - Used by Divatox
- Putra Pods - Used by Divatox
- Chromites - Used by General Havoc
Power Rangers in Space
- Quantrons - Used by Astronema
- Craterites - Used by the Space Rangers (for combat training)
- Piranhatrons - Used by the United Alliance of Evil.
- Cogs - Used by the United Alliance of Evil.
- Z-Putties - Used by the United Alliance of Evil.
Power Rangers Lost Galaxy
- Stingwingers - Used by Scorpius and Trakeena
- Swabbies - Used by Captain Mutiny
- Skelekron Warriors - Used by Skelekron
Power Rangers Lightspeed Rescue
- Batlings - Used by Queen Bansheera and her minions
- Ghouls - Used by Triskull
Power Rangers Time Force
- Cyclobots - Used by Ransik
- Demon Warriors - Used by Vypra
Power Rangers Wild Force
- Putrids - Used by the Master Org
Power Rangers Ninja Storm
- Kelzaks - Used by Lothor
- Kelzak Furies - Upgraded version of the Kelzaks
Power Rangers Dino Thunder
Power Rangers SPD
- Krybots - Used by the Troobian Empire
- Blue-Head Krybots - Emperor Gruumm's personal guard. Usally seen commanding Krybots
- Orange-Head Krybots - Rare Soldiers seen commanding Blue-Heads and Krybots
Power Rangers Mystic Force
- Hidiacs - Used by Morticon, Imperious and Necrolai
Power Rangers Operation Overdrive
- Chillers - Used by Flurious
- Lava Lizards - Used by Moltor
- Ninja Stuntmen - They were once under a spell by Kamdor
Power Rangers Jungle Fury
Power Rangers: R.P.M.
- Grinders - Used by the Venjix Computer Network and later Professor Cog
Power Rangers: Samurai and Super Samurai
- Moogers - Used by Master Xandred
- Master Blasters - Use specialized "Laser Blasters".
- Giant Moogers - Used in Megazord Battles
- Flying Moogers - A variation of Giant Moogers that can fly.
- Colossal Mooger Cannon Company - Carry a gigantic cannon intended for attacking Megazord combinations.
- Spitfangs - Another variation of Nighlok foot-soldiers also used by Master Xandred utilized for heavy ranged attacks.
- Papyrox - Papermade giant monsters used by Serrator
Power Rangers: Megaforce
- Loogies - Used by Vrak
- Water Rotox Army - Used by Metal Alice
Power Rangers: Super Megaforce
- X Borgs - Used by the Armada
- Bruisers - Used by the Armada
- Royal Guards - Used by the Armada
Power Rangers: Dino Charge and Dino Super Charge
- Vivix - Used by Sledge and later Heximas
- Spikeballs - Used by Sledge and later Heckyl, Snide and Arcanon - Used by Lord Draven
Power Rangers Ninja Steel and Super Ninja Steel
- Kudabots- Used by Galvanax and later Madame Odius
- Basherbots - Upgraded versions of Kudabots, Used by Galvanax and later Madame Odius and reprogrammed by Wrench and worked for Sledge (Dino Charge)
- Upgraded Basherbots - More powerful versions of Basherbots, used by Badonna and Madame Odius
- Basherbots - Upgraded versions of Kudabots, Used by Galvanax and later Madame Odius and reprogrammed by Wrench and worked for Sledge (Dino Charge)
- Skullgators - Used by Cosmo Royale in Megazord battles
- Foxbots - Used by Galactic Ninjas
- Robo Rangers - Used by
Power Rangers HyperForce
Power Rangers Beast Morphers
- Tronics- Used by Evox
- Gigatronics- Gigadrone version of Tronics
Power Rangers Dino Fury
- The Drunn Soldiers will receive a counterpart in the upcoming season.
All items (75)
- Papyrox
- Piranhatrons
- Pterodactyl Sentries
- Putra Pods
- Putrids
- Putties (2017 movie)
- Putty Patrollers
- Putty Patrollers (2016 comic)
- Saber-One
- Sabertooth Sentries
- Silver Space Sentries
- Skelekron Warriors
- Skeleton Warriors (MMPR)
- Skullgators
- Spikeballs
- Spitfangs
- Stingwingers
- Styxoids
- Super Putty Patrollers
- Swabbies


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One of the finest Finnish black metal bands, Verge, will release on 15th September through I, Voidhanger Records their new full-lenght album entitled The Process Of Self-Becoming. Verge's third and most mature release is a concept album "loosely based on philosopher Sören Kierkegaard´s theory of existence stages", as the band explains. "Each song has been written from a particular subjective existential stance and the crisis it inevitably faces." Divided into three chapters – Aesthetic, Moral and Religious – and graced with precious lyrical contributions from Shoo (Charnel Winds)) and Johannes Nefastos, The Process Of Self-Becoming is an extremely ferocious work, yet a deeply meditative one, and it perfectly captures the wavering, tortured nature of its philosophic contents and existential dilemmas. The violent assaults of "The Decision Beyond Calculation" and "The Pride In Despair" dissolve into some of the most intense rock-oriented guitar solos ever heard within the context of a black metal record, thus emphasizing the continuous struggle between reason and doubt, while the tremendous final bacchanals of "The Bedrock Gives Way" and "Grounding In The Unground" seal the album with majestic crescendos and dramatic words: "Not God, But Me in God / Taking the serpents from His mother's hands / You are the final stream of beginning / The fire of the last and first question." When the echo of the last notes dies out, there it begins our process of self-becoming, a difficult quest towards illumination... where illumination rhymes with damnation.
Verge feature musicians that play or have played with other esteemed underground acts like Charnel Winds and Saturnian Mist, among the others. Thanks to their previous works – two fascinating full-length albums and a few splits – Verge have proved to speak a unique black metal language that bends the misanthropic roots of the genre to their will and their progressive music vision, uncompromising and highly original like most part of Finnish metal. Recommended to fans of IC Rex, Blood Red Fog, Charnel Winds, Nephilim's Howl, Baptism. Link
The Process Of Self-Becoming tracklist:
01. Aesthetic I - The Piety In Hatred
02. Aesthetic II - The Futility Of It All
03. Aesthetic III - The Ridiculous Difficulty Of Acceptance
04. Moral I - The Decision Beyond Calculation
05. Moral II - The Pride In Despair
06. Religious I - The Bedrock Gives Way
07. Religious II - Grounding In The Unground


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If you're an avid diver, then the chances are that you have heard about the latest release from Shearwater of the new Perdix AI dive computer. So what's all the hype about ?
AI stands for air integration. The new Perdix can communicate with two transmitters at a time for pressure and remaining gas time readings. While Shearwater sell their own, Aqualung or Oceanic transmitters also work fine.
The Perdix offers divers a high resolution full time, colour LCD 2.2″ display which compensates for ambient light so in low light it will dim preventing glare and in sunlight. Two soft press buttons on the side a robust and well build casing provide interface to the operating system which remains the same as the Perdix (without AI) which many divers will be familiar with. The computer is molded and streamlined to sit well on the arm and has an integrated bungee mount giving a secure fit even when your wetsuit is being compressed at depth.
A recretional mode offers a simplified 3 nitrox mix user interface with a technical mode providing a full blow 5 gas trimix computer with customisable display. For rebreather divers a fixed PO2 mode offers tracking offboard. Finally a gauge mode with stopwatch rounds off the options for the underwater experience.
Shearwater has long been regarded as the king of technical level computers or those seeking an advanced computer that will grow with the diver and this new version will likely not disappoint.
With it's recreational mode and new air integration, the Perdix steals the crown for any diver as their first computer, or their last.
The Verdict
The Perdix AI offers a fantastic form factor, long battery life, and you can add transmitters. The software and case is the same as the Perdix, just with the AI functionality.
The integration of a bungee mount adds to the ergonomics of wearing the computer which will sit better in the arm when coupled with the streamlining of the case.
Existing users of the Perdix will find little to write home about here. The addition of the AI functionality is simply wonderful and rounds out the Shearwater as being near perfect.
Rebreather divers seeking an external monitoring varient will be disappointed as there isn't one, likely due to the lack of real estate to actually place a cable into the housing. But it has fixed PO2 and can monitor 2 transmitters at a time – your dil and O2!
Should you buy one ? If you are in the market for a new dive computer then absolutely as there is little else which ticks all the boxes in the way Shearwater does.
Will I be upgrading from my current Perdix to a Perdix AI ? Yup – you bet.
About the Author
Jason Blackwell is a technical dive instructor trainer, but is frequently found on movie sets doing silly things underwater for money for blockbuster films, you can check his Instagram account, he has been able to Buy automatic instagram likes for his posts and they have gone viral.


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This event has already occurred. This page is provided for reference only.
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4 hours
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| 14.7°C Dublin
I'm six months into a new relationship and very conscious of the fact that we're establishing a dynamic and laying the foundations for the future.
More simply, I'm conscious that I don't want to make the same mistakes twice.
Past patterns often re-emerge in new relationships so this time round I've been holding my tongue and keeping my counsel, particularly when there is any perceived opportunity to give advice or assume responsibility.
It's taken me 31 years to realise that when people want your advice (or wish to be emailed links to job websites), they'll ask for it - and even then, they probably just want a chat.
It's taken me just as long to understand that what is seldom is wonderful, or rather, that consistently and extravagantly meeting the needs of a partner generally goes unappreciated and unreciprocated.
I've also discovered that these two patterns are characteristics of codependency, which is broadly defined as a dysfunctional relationship characterised by excessive caretaking and reliance. It's a term that gets bandied about, often to describe women that iron their husband's boxer shorts and men that field 22 text messages when they go for a pint. Actually, it's much more insidious than that. Codependency is a complex condition with many different shades but crucially it's a need to be needed; it's an issue of control.
As David Stafford writes in Codependency: How to Break Free and Live Your Own Life, "Anyone in your life who tries to change you is really saying: as I can't control myself I will try and control you".
It's a sobering thought for those who have set themselves up to be leaned upon. The people that habitually become caretakers rather than caregivers in romantic relationships rarely stop to wonder if they rescue others because it's easier than rescuing themselves. They never consider that they might be the lock to the key.
They bemoan their encumbrances without realising that they have asked to be encumbered, or as Melody Beattie writes in Codependent No More: "Codependents appear to be depended upon, but they are dependent".
Codependents Anonymous (CA) - yes, there is such a thing - explain the control patterns of codependents further. They "freely offer advice and guidance without being asked". They "believe most others are incapable of taking care of themselves". They "attempt to convince others what they should think and feel".
According to CA, the codependent personality also has "difficulty identifying feelings"; "puts aside personal interests and hobbies to do what others want" and "perceives himself as being completely unselfish".
In relationships, codependency is a feeling of not being worthy enough to be loved just as you are. The caregiver defines his self-worth by proving his devotion. While codependents tend to attract one another, their relationship roles are distinctly unequal. Rescuers pair off with damsels in distress while addicts pair off with enablers. Often the dynamic is more like parent and child than husband and wife.
Curiously, those with a dependent partner tend to have many more dependent figures in their life (boss, mother, child. . .). The vulnerable gravitate towards them, and still the codependent caretaker can't understand why it is that they are burdened with other people's problems.
It's a sorry cycle, continues Beattie: "Later we get mad at them for what we've done. Then we feel used and sorry for ourselves. That is the pattern".
Beattie goes on to write about her group counselling sessions with codependent couples: "They were shells, sometimes almost invisible shells, of people. Their energy was depleted - directed at someone else. They couldn't tell me what they were feeling and thinking because they didn't know. Their focus was not on themselves".
It begs the question: can codependents really be in love? M Scott Peck, author of The Road Less Travelled, prefers to think of it as "parasitism". Codependents feed off one another until their identities merge into a whole that is significantly less than the sum of its parts. There is no growth because they are simultaneously impeding one another's spiritual path and dissolving one another's identity.
Real love - where giving and receiving is in balance - is nourishing. It feeds the soul and lifts the spirits. Codependent romance is closer to infatuation or obsession - they are in love with the idea of love.
You'll notice that those in codependent relationships usually share friends, hobbies and holidays, while those in independent relationships have created boundaries and are comfortable being on their own. Space, both literal and metaphorical, tends to be lacking in codependent relationships.
Self-esteem tends to be lacking too, which is why the condition is so rife in our culture. We all have the potential to slip into the codependent dynamic. Indeed, Charles L Whitfield, author of Co-Dependence: Healing the Human Condition, describes it as "the most common of all addictions".
But it's an addiction that can be overcome. One of the most powerful recovery techniques is to simply resist the urge to offer advice and guidance. Do it - even for a week - and you'll notice a new dynamic begin to unfold.
Codependent personalities need to learn that they can only control themselves.
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posted on October 30, 2018 by Willingham & Cote
Torree J. Breen, Divorce & Family Law
Are you contemplating divorce? Before you file, you should gather information to determine whether you can live on your own, independent of your spous...
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We generally recommend that business owners form a corporation or limited...
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Our September newsletter's front page encourages young adults to have legal and medical powers of attorney before they head-off to college and a...
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In response to the ever-increasing globalization of our workforce, part of a well-rounded education often includes international travel. Whe...
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If there is an order issued in Michigan regarding the child support, the Friend of the Court can review the calculation of child support under certain...
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In 1968, the Michigan Liquor Control Commission established an administrative rule that generally prevented a retail store from ob...
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How does an upcoming wedding impact the custody of your children?
If you are planning the wedding, you may be contemplating whether you may c...
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Pass-through Entities
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The majority of families have shifted from the traditional nuclear family of father, mother and child to a nation in which the majority of families ar...
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Have you found a new job outside of Michigan or have been lucky to find new love across state lines? The internet has expanded our emp...
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This unit explores the literary forms, traditions (oral and written) and central theological themes of the Pentateuch. Students will examine chosen pentateuchal passages in the light of source criticism, form criticism, narrative criticism, and reception history. They will develop familiarity with ancient and modern interpretations of the Pentateuch developed by Jewish and Christian exegetes. Attention will be given to both narrative and legal texts and to theological links between the Pentateuch and the New Testament. The unit will demonstrate the enduring relevance of pentateuchal texts to contemporary society and the church.
BS8001C and BS8002C or equivalent
face-to-face 3-hour weekly classes in semester


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- I am Autistic. - June 17, 2020
- Mental Health Resources for Black Folks - May 30, 2020
- Freshman Year, Interrupted - May 5, 2020
I have decided that, in order to swiftly move on with this blog, we're all best served by me putting all updates from the last month of my life into one post. It's long, and exhausting, and raw, and I've been compiling it for weeks. I hope you find meaning in it.
So, at the beginning of April, I tried to kill myself. You all know that by now. Normally, I'd be dormant at this point. I'd be cowering in the shame of what I did. I don't want to do that, this time. I have valuable information to give, goddamnit! My information will be different one year out than it is one month out, but that is not to say that one-month-out-insight is not important.
I want to be careful in walking the line between explaining what happened and glorifying suicide. I'll only include information that I believe would be helpful to you in understanding the warning signs in the people around you.
I wrote a smattering of notes to various people. These notes were mostly scattered around my room, if not digital, and would have been clear in their nature if found. I hadn't showered for a little under week, and I normally shower daily. Every "next day" was the day I'd die, I thought, so what was the point in showering for that? I softened in demeanor, interacting quietly and gently with my family and friends, to a noticeable point. Really, though, I didn't talk to my friends much. I had nearly forty unread texts from over two dozen people rotting in my Messages app. To one friend, one of my longtime dearest, I said I was doing well. I didn't post anything on the blog, instead asking others to do it for me, to take what had become a burden off of my shoulders.
If I'm being completely transparent with you all, this blog had spiraled a bit. I'm still proud of everything that I've written, but its tone had shifted to be a more play-by-play of what I was feeling, with self-reflective undertones, rather than utter self-reflection on past experiences. As I'll discuss, I've been in a traumatic spiral for weeks and months. Going forward, I hope to merge my real-time feelings with more poised insight. They needn't be mutually exclusive.
I've hinted at some things that happened in the days leading up to my attempt on my life. Likely the biggest one is my social media spiral. Since December of 2017, I've been haunted by a group of girls from my old therapeutic school. There was a school suspension and an expulsion, as well as a trip to the police department, but they've persisted. In talking with my therapist in the past weeks, we've come to the conclusion that while I have done nothing to goad these girls, I have not had the ability to wave them away, or block them totally, because I've always fundamentally believed I am "bad," and it follows that I seek validation of this self loathing in the judgement of others. This is why I've stayed in abusive relationships; they satisfied my need to find people who are not good for me, who will validate my tragic view of myself.
I would cycle through a routine of social media checks. First to Twitter, where one of the girls routinely posts about me. Then to Instagram, where the girls and my ex's family would incessantly report my profiles, and where my ex's new girlfriend and a friend of hers have made more than half a dozen fake accounts hoping to follow mine. I'd cry and shake each time, but until recently I never blocked them. Then to VCSO, the popular photo filtering/sharing app, to review their profiles and the things they'd screenshot. Next, to my own blog, to see if they'd left any earth-shattering comments (they often did, I've had to delete a lot). Finally, until a month or so ago, I'd consult with my friends from that school, to see if anyone had been talking about me. I both did and didn't want to hear that they had. The part of me that wants to feel good and safe wanted to hear silence, but there was sick satisfaction in hearing that they were saying something awful. Needless to say, these were not positive friendships.
On the day that I tried to kill myself, one of the girls made an Instagram post that, while the picture was just a selfie, the caption was, according to a Twitter post, a hidden derogatory reference to me. She recruited dozens of people to comment on it, in affirmation. I watched as the comments poured in—from my ex's new girlfriend, former friends, former classmates, and utter strangers. They were all people who I decided then and there (with good reason), hated me. I've talked before about how powerful consensus is for me. If enough people dislike me, I can't rationalize my way out of it. It did not seem possible that I was somehow a good person who was just misunderstood by everybody. I was convinced that removing myself from their lives by suicide was the best option for everyone.
As I considered the high lethality of what I was about to try, I ran over my life as I saw it, until that moment. In those few seconds, I was only able to see invalidation, abuse, bullying, betrayal, fear, and hatred. I'd been sleeping for eighteen hours a day, but sleep was no respite, for trauma nightmares found me there. In them, I'm sexually assaulted, over and over, as I'm paralyzed and powerless. I ultimately felt as if the only solution was permanent, dreamless sleep. I wrote a pros and cons list in my Notes app. Here's how it went.
Laid out that way, it seemed logical, like a mere numbers game. Consensus, remember? I made my decision.
I'm not going to review what happened after that, but I laid out/sent out my notes and did what I did. I was in the ER for two days before being transferred to the hospital's adult psychiatric unit. I have the pleasure, now, of reviewing that unique place for you all. I took pages of notes on who I met and what I did, in order to share them now. Let's begin!
I was in the ER overnight, and I didn't manage to get much sleep. My father had gone home for the night to get some rest (he stayed by my bedside for every second he could and visited during every visiting hour period, shoutout to him!). I was next door to a very young boy—there's little more tragic than the sight of young children in psychiatric facilities—who was requesting that he be allowed to call his mother before he was to have his blood drawn. The staff wanted to do it soon, because there is no adolescent unit at my local hospital and he'd need to be transferred with completed bloodwork. Polite as could be, he conveyed his reservations. I know I wasn't nearly as serene when I was brought in, when I first had blood drawn. How could he stay so composed, at age twelve at the most? And where was his mother, if not there? What and who had brought him here, seemingly alone? I finally slept with EKG stickers dotting my body and the sweet boy's mumblings wafting through the walls.
I grew antsy in the ER. I wanted to leave and find solace in my dear therapist. I knew she'd understand everything immediately, and I wanted to talk to her. The staff of the hospital told me that because of the seriousness of what I'd done and its generally high success rate, coupled with my knowledge of that success rate and insistence on attempting suicide with the understanding I'd likely die, the doctors concluded that they couldn't let me go. I had to be admitted to the psychiatric unit, so once some more tests were done and a bed was cleared, I was wheeled in a mandatory transport chair that inched to creaking elevator after creaking elevator, up to the unit.
I know how to navigate psychiatric units. I've been to my fair share of them and I'm skilled at putting myself on autopilot and just getting through whatever is thrown at me there. So none of what I'm about to describe was terribly upsetting to me, but I will say that having my first experience on the unit be a fellow patient insisting to me that I cover my back (still draped with a hospital gown, gapping in one place) because Jesus was watching, and Jesus was all I would need—"not medication!"—was something of a first.
I was shown to my room, which I shared with a lovely, soft-spoken elderly woman. She was diagnosed with breast cancer a little under a year ago and her throat was covered in gauze. None of us asked her explicitly, but the general consensus was that she'd tried to slit it in a suicide attempt. She spoke, in therapy groups, of an insidious depression that had swallowed the life she'd happily lived for perhaps seventy years, give or take. I couldn't reconcile that image with the woman I saw before me, the grandmother who padded around the unit in slippers and a tartan nightgown, a knitted, yellow flower hat to cover her balding head, and a tender manner. We'd wish each other goodnight and, as she fell asleep rather quickly, I'd read "Bad Blood," "How Democracy Dies," and "Unbelievable" to the light that she insisted I leave on, in order to see. Somehow, she slept under the blaring industrial lights.
On my first night, I was reading in bed—my roommate switching to a floral nightgown for sleeping—when we heard a blood curdling scream echo through the hallways. It was the Jesus touting woman, and she was having a meltdown. We heard a great whoosh—what we'd later learn was her knocking down a door—and she ran past our room, ripping up a book that she'd forcibly taken from the hands of a fellow patient, after hitting him with a pillow. The rest of the night, for hours and hours, we could hear her screaming in a room down the hall known as the isolation room (it had one bed and, if I saw correctly, restraints). She screamed two things: "Fuck you, motherfuckers, go to hell!" and "I want to be DEAD!" I'll never forget the precise cadence with which she proclaimed those two things. Next to the children I've seen wandering units, this was the most harrowing moment I've ever experienced in hospitals. The woman was delusional and very confused, but she seemed to know that she was trapped in a life that likely would never be anyone's definition of "normal," that would likely entail a great deal of suffering, suffering in which she was already wrapped. One could hear it in the way her screams trailed off into sobs. Eventually I fell asleep, but she didn't. Her voice was barely audible the next day.
In the morning, I met a woman who couldn't have been much over five feet tall. Like most on the unit, she was dealing with a suicide attempt that was co-occurring with a terrible addiction. She talked constantly about her husband and twin babies who were awaiting her return, and she mothered them vicariously through the rest of us.
I encountered a man in his early to mid-twenties. He was looming, muscular, and good looking, sporting a NY Mets t-shirt, but he was weeping like a child would, hunched over and whimpering a bit. A group was crowded around him, listening to his mantra. I couldn't hear it, but as I got to know him over the next few days, I came to understand that he was a depressed alcoholic who had gone to college to play jazz music. He was likely wonderfully talented but we'd never see it. We'd only see his wet eyes and hear his stories about an emotionally abusive brother who "hated" him and what he'd become, who didn't understand what was happening to him. I heard him call himself a "waste of space." Imagine.
"You know, you're the prettiest girl on the unit," a widely disliked woman with few, rotting teeth told me during a visit with my father. The woman would repeat the sentence over a dozen times, whenever she saw me. I would demur internally while thanking her externally, for there was a lovely looking girl around my age, a petite former dancer with a delicate braid down to her thighs, who was on the unit with a fascinating story.
The petite dancer believed that she was infected by parasites. At first, it seemed plausible. She seemed to know a lot about intestinal parasites. But over time it became clear to me, while I eavesdropped over breakfast with a book in my face and my ears wide open, that the staff did not believe her. I knew, then, what was happening.
See, I have OCD, too. I went through a phase where I was convinced that I had intestinal parasites. I've never told anyone but my dad and doctor about this, but I would beg my pediatrician for scans and tests. I knew that this woman was focusing all of her OCD energy into phantom bugs. If she just got the cure, she claimed, her body and soul would be "cleansed," and all would be well, she would "get back to her old self." No cure would come, and she was discharged the same day I was.
One night, all of us were locked in the TV lounge as the Jesus-touting woman was raging, again, this time with more suicidal wails than homicidal screams. The staff had moved all breakable and potentially harmful objects that had previously been in the hallway, into the staff area, so she couldn't throw them or hurt someone. Security was called, and she banged on our door. It was a bit frightening, but we all had each other, and shared the reasons we were all there. Of the seven of us in that room, six had attempted suicide and come to the unit via the emergency room. Two overdoses, a gun, two slices, and my noose. One man hadn't attempted suicide. He and I delighted in our shared love of Harry Potter, marveling at the mutual designation of "Ravenpuff" with which we'd each anointed ourselves.
In therapy group on my third day, we were asked to describe a place where we felt happy, a place we could revisit in our minds when things went south on the outside. I spoke of a basement in my ex's house, a soft couch and Harry Potter playing on the TV, a place in which I'd felt happier than I ever had in my life (the relationship crashed but the sensation remains). My fellow Ravenpuff raised his hand, and I still remember exactly what he described. Everyone in that room probably does.
It was simple: his backyard. But he painted it hypnotically for us, as if it was a haven of escapism that any of us could access. He spoke of an "eight foot by twenty foot porch that surrounded a Black Walnut tree, with a grill on the right and steps down to an acre of grass in the middle, that was flanked by two planters, one bearing herbs and the other vegetables, and the acre itself was wrapped in bushes upon bushes of forsythia." Typing this now, it sounds benign, but I promise that in that meeting room across from the nurses' station, it was magical. It's easy to find things to be magical while in the hospital.
I was discharged the next day, after pacing for half an hour (or half a century, depending on if you ask me or a clock) up and down the entrance to the ward as I awaited my father's arrival. I got the names and numbers of a few patients, but I haven't added them on any social media or texted them, nor have they added or texted me. It has mostly gone this way upon hospital discharge. There is a hidden place in my heart that few ever get to house, and it contains the people I've encountered throughout my journey.
So, there you have it. That's what happened. In the weeks since, I've done a lot of work. We locked down my social media so I can't go on checking loops (mainly Twitter and VSCO, with some Instagram) and I've gone on semi-permanent birth control to control the hormone change that arises in the days before my menstruation week (I made the attempt in the midst of that week, and they're intertwined). I'm back on daily schedules and meal plans, as those things had previously been falling by the wayside. I bawled my eyes out in front of my therapist for the first time. An former abusive relationship has knocked the wind out of my old frequent weepiness, but when I'm most vulnerable, my eyes swell and voice is turbulent and wet. That's when the heavy work's done.
Most importantly, I'm thrilled to be alive. My mother reminds me that after I failed, I was wailing in regret, wishing I had succeeded and devastated to still be able to open my eyes. What's different, this time? When I entered the hospital, after I'd accepted that I was still alive, everything looked new to me. A book was remarkable in its vastness, an anatomical poster aesthetically enrapturing, the stories and lives of my fellow patients were those of celebrities, the most interesting people on Earth.
I've felt this before, but I'd never tried to kill myself with such a high chance of success before. I "knew" I'd die. Now, I know I could never want to. I know that even after as high stakes of an attempt as I could ever muster, I want to live. There can be no such thing as unending suffering, and I wish I'd seen that before this unfortunate event. There was no need for the pain I put myself and others through. I've always been privy to the most nuanced, elegant, beautiful parts of life. I appreciate everything I had before my attempt and everything I stood to lose, and just how horrible a different outcome would have been.
If you're feeling at risk, below is a number I urge you to call.


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always over-deliver
Banana Republic Business Advice: How to Grow a Company
Mel and Patricia Ziegler, founders of Banana Republic and authors of the new book, Wild Company: The Untold Story of Banana Republic, provide succinct advice on how to create, grow, and sustain a new company. Your customer is your best asset. Everything that's successful is intensely personal. Always over-deliver. Creativity, chutzpah, and imagination work wonders […]
About John Kremer
John Kremer is author of 1001 Ways to Market Your Books, the Relationships Matter Marketing program, and many other books and reports on book marketing, Internet marketing, social media, and book publicity. -- John Kremer on Book Marketing.


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Blesbok (Bontebok) Shoulder Form - Pos-Tex® Series
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View: How To Measure For Shoulder Mannikins
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By Jaron Zanerhaft
For most of my life, I have not been the son of a Rabbi. My father, a practicing attorney since the early 80's, received rabbinic ordination from a Beit Din around the same time I left home for college. As a student, my father transferred to a secular school one year before obtaining his rabbinic degree, but his Jewish education had irrevocably shaped his soul. From this, I benefited immensely. When I was a child, my father would tell me stories most Friday nights after we lit Shabbat candles, filling my young mind with Midrash and Talmud. Every week, we would go over the Torah portion together, accessing every character and plot line. Torah became a part of me, a part that I denied in my days leading up to Beit T'Shuvah, a part that daily morning study here would soon revive.
I had started to grow accustomed to Beit T'Shuvah's 7:00 a.m. Torah Study when one Wednesday, a couple of months after I arrived at Beit T'Shuvah, the person slotted to lead Torah Study didn't show up. When it became apparent no one was coming, my friend Martin jokingly suggested that I give it a try. Of course, I didn't realize he was joking and took his challenge seriously. "I can do this," I thought to myself as I quickly scanned the text. The wisdom was right there in the words. All I had to do was be a conduit. I approached the podium and, with a straight face, began to speak. We covered the laws in Deuteronomy about finding lost property, and by the end of the hour, we had come up with an inventory of what people currently had missing in the house. While speaking, I felt alert and lucid, yet strangely calm. For a moment, my anxiety disorder subsided completely. I was in what we refer to here as "the flow state." Not too long after, I worked up the courage to ask Rabbi Mark about a regular spot on the Torah Study rotation. He gave it to me!
I get a lot out of leading Torah Study. In front of the Beit T'Shuvah morning crowd, I am in my element. In high school, I participated in competitive public speaking, and I've been given the chance to recover that passion. I love analyzing texts, drawing meaning from literature to help me find a better way to live. I love teaching; I never learn as much as when I give my knowledge away. With the insight of the unique perspectives here, I even help my father write his sermons. Most importantly, however, the child inside me enchanted by Torah is finally being nurtured. Who knows? Maybe someday, that child will grow up to be a Rabbi, too.


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How little we know about nature's inner workings, particularly with systems as complex as that of the Amazonian Rainforest and it's unique approach to manufacturing it's own rainy season as needs warrant.
A new study gives the first observational evidence that the southern Amazon rainforest triggers its own rainy season using water vapor from plant leaves. The finding helps explain why deforestation in this region is linked with reduced rainfall.
The finding highlights how closely connected the rainforest ecosystem is with climate, Fu said. "The fate of the southern Amazon rainforest depends on the length of the dry season, but the length of the dry season also depends on the rainforest."
The finding raises another question: Why do plants start to grow and transpire more during the dry season, before there's an increase in rain? That's still a subject of research, Fu said. "This may be the way the forests optimize their growth. In the late dry season, plants still get sunshine, and they could anticipate the coming rainy season because they are adapted to the seasonality of the rain."
That seasonality has been changing in recent decades, however. The rainy season in the southern Amazon now starts almost a month later than it did in the 1970s. There's evidence that if the Amazon dry season becomes longer than five to seven months, the forest will no longer receive enough rain each year to keep trees alive, and the region will transition from forest to grassy plains. Over a large fraction of the southern Amazon, the dry season is now only a few weeks shorter on average than this transitional threshold. There has already been some irreversible damage to the forest. The loss of a major Amazonian forest ecosystem could increase Brazilian droughts and potentially disrupt rainfall patterns as far away as Texas.
The Anthropocene Epoch aka the 6th Great Dying continues unabated due to greed, stupidity and disregard for the long term consequences of destroying irreplaceable treasures like the rain forests of South America.
Seen below is the time span of humans on earth vs life on earth. Astounding says it all.
Any questions?


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Browsing Institutt for geofag by Author "Haddeland, Ingjerd"
Now showing items 1-1 of 1
The sensitivity of the terrestrial surface energy and water balance estimates in the WRF model to lower surface boundary representations: a South Norway case study. Erlandsen, Helene B.; Haddeland, Ingjerd; Tallaksen, Lena M.; Kristiansen, Jørn (Journal article / Tidsskriftartikkel / PublishedVersion; Peer reviewed, 2017)A seasonal snow cover, expansive forests, a long coast line, and a mountainous terrain are features of Norway's geography. Forests, ground snow, and sea surface temperature (SST) vary on time scales relevant for weather ...


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Robert Trudeau, editor. Talk to me: firstname.lastname@example.com.
Photo gallery: S-B Art Scene
Thursday, May 22, 2014
UnScene feast in the Municipal Auditorium on Fri, June 20, curated by Sarah and Evan Rich, hot chefs from San Francisco
Coming to Shreveport's Municipal Auditorium on Fri, June 20: an UnScene public feast curated by the hottest chefs in San Francisco. They are Sarah and Evan Rich.
Their Gough St bistro has won numerous rave reviews, notes local artist Kathryn Usher. An example: the food-oriented city blog sfist.com calls their restaurant, Rich Table, "One of the 25 best restaurants in the Bay Area - according to statistics." The blog also says they have a Top Ten Bay Area vegetarian dish. Writes Andrew Dalton,"Sarah and Evan Rich's celebrated Hayes Valley spot has been a hot ticket since opening in 2012 and features a number of excellent veggie-forward dishes on their constantly evolving menu. But one item, the airy and earthy porcini doughnuts, are a meatless standout that would have us popping in daily for a bite, if only we could get a reservation. The light, fluffy dough has a hint of sweetness balanced by the rich umami flavor of the dried porcinis."
UnScene has engaged them partly, says Pam Atchison, because Sarah Rich grew up in Shreveport.
Joanne Wen, who posted the above photo, said of her supper, "The Rich Table in SF lived up to the hype. They had some of the most unique dishes I've had in a while: sardine chips with horseradish creme fraiche, porcini donuts which had the texture of Mister Donut, and Douglas Fir levain bread."
The Rich couple will guide a dozen local chefs in creating a Shreveport supper that meets their ambitious standards. The chefs will be surrounded by art installations. UnScene Rich Table: Fri, June 20, 5:30 - 11 pm. See the UnScene Calendar, too.
Posted by Robert E Trudeau at 7:14 PM
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60% tougher–jetzt auf Deutsch!
I'm taking a plunger to this blog (the word "blog" has always seemed, to me, to require a plunger). I got hopelessly clogged this summer, and all kinds of things I meant to write about are stagnating in the…all right, all right. Block that metaphor, as the New Yorker used to say. Anyway, I had originally planned to organize a summer post around a slide show on Babble. Readers hated the slide shows, but the dirty secret is that they boost traffic exponentially, since each slide viewed counts as a moneymaking hit. All summer I kept thinking I'd shut the Babble blog down, and then I'd remember I had pictures to post, and I needed the money, and so I should really post the slideshow before quitting, and then I'd go to sleep. Or go outside. Or go swimming. It was a very non-computer summer, which turned out to be grand.
So you'll be getting stale old summer stories for a while. Perhaps it will be a pleasant little escape for those of you who, like me, do not do very well with winter.
(An aside: My ex-husband, whose birthday recently occurred, just came by bearing cake–three pieces, one for each of the kids and one, I assume, for me. The cake was made by his girlfriend, and was delicious, and was delivered on a plate I'd forgotten about–marital china given to us by my mother years ago. I cannot tell you how much I love all the bizarre levels of intimacy and estrangement that this simple little transaction implied. I love that he has a girlfriend who is nice enough to bake, nice enough to send cake over, nice enough to include an extra piece for me. Even seeing the old plate made me happy. Some things never change–the ex didn't thank me for the token present I gave him, nor for organizing and paying for the kids' presents, but I somehow don't give a shit about any of that any more. As he was when we were married, so shall he ever be. Let's all eat cake!)
(Another aside: I have not forgotten that I owe you the second half of the boyfriend-meets-ex story. All shall be revealed. It's actually not that interesting in the end, so prepare yourself to be disappointed in advance. Though the anticlimax was, in this instance, exactly what I wanted. It doesn't make for a gripping narrative, but at least I didn't spontaneously combust.)
And now back to the summer. In August, I went down to South Carolina to help my mother move out of her beach house. This particular house is my favorite of any my family has ever lived in, though they didn't actually settle there until I was already in college. It's a lovely old Victorian with a massive porch, a block from the ocean, on the tiny barrier island where I spent a good deal of my childhood (in various rented cottages, often during the off-season, when the salty wind would whistle through the uninsulated walls and we'd have the beach all to ourselves). My mom bought the house right after her divorce from my stepfather (my first stepfather, who married my mom when I was four and left her for another woman when I was sixteen). It was our dream house, the house that meant she was not only okay post-divorce, but also triumphant. Before we owned it, I babysat for the couple it belonged to. We used to drive by longingly, never thinking we'd actually live there–and then, suddenly, we did.
By "we" I mean my mother, my brother, my sister, and me, when I wasn't away at college. And, every other week when he wasn't working, the guy my mother began dating a few months after her divorce. He was (is! He's still alive. How does one talk about a former stepfather? There should be a special tense for it–the preterite beau-père, perhaps?) an old old friend from long ago. In fact, his direct ancestor was captain of the ship that brought our direct ancestor to Charleston for the first time, back when South Carolina was still England. He was (is!) a harbor pilot, descended from a long line of ship captains and blockade runners. Another of his ancestors was supposed to have been the inspiration for Rhett Butler. This raised his stock hugely with my sister and me, since we both read Gone With the Wind so many times at impressionable ages that we can, if we put our minds to it, reconstruct the entire novel word for word from memory. And though he was not a great match for my mother in the end, he was–is–a great guy.
After he and my mother got married, my mother agreed to sell the beach house and move into Charleston proper, so that he wouldn't have to drive out to us between ships. Harbor pilots are on call for a solid week–24 hours a day, seven days in a row–and then off for a week. The weeks he was off, we would all go to his country house. "Country house" sounds fancy, but his was a kind of bachelor farm set down in the middle of nowhere, complete with dogs and chickens and guinea hens and horses and goats (a pair, named Ernest and Hadley by my mother. We got them to keep one of the foals company when he was being weaned.) There were also foxes and raccoons and hawks and herons and snakes and possums and fire ants and alligators and ticks and chiggers all over the place.
So if you're picturing a genteel estate, you're wrong. My stepfather's place was bounded by woods and swamp and river, the house was low-ceilinged and weird, the water came from a well, smelled terrible, and tasted worse, and it was nearly an hour away from anything resembling civilization. You couldn't go to the grocery store or have friends over or pop round to the public library. You could drive his army jeep around till you got tired of it, even if you were only a kid, and you could swim in the pond, provided you watched out for cottonmouths, and you could play ping-pong in the attic if you didn't mind the heat. And you could go out in the enormous pasture and spend a sweaty, exhausting hour or so trying to entice one of his horses to let you put the halter on and lead it back to the barn, if you wanted to ride.
I always wanted to ride. It was like something out of Faulkner, cantering slowly down the fire roads under the oak trees dripping moss, letting the horse pick his way gingerly over the dikes between the old rice ponds and the river. Once, when I was riding bareback because I'd been too lazy to saddle my horse in the heat, he shied violently at a downed branch on the dike and I went right over his shoulder and nearly landed in the murky, snaky drink. I wasn't hurt, but it was hot as hell and we were a couple of miles from home, so I held onto the reins and tried, to no avail, to remount. It's hard to get back up on a horse without a saddle, and this particular horse was very tall. In the end I climbed halfway up a tree and flung myself over his back, at which point he bolted for home with his ears flat against his skull. I managed to get my leg over eventually and we made it to the barn, though I ended up with a terrible case of poison ivy.
Another time (it was Easter Sunday) my sister and I were cantering down to a creek that bordered my stepfather's place, singing "Freedom" by Wham! at the top of our lungs and giggling like idiots, when we suddenly came upon a whole congregation baptizing its members in the water. Full immersion baptism is nothing like the little flick in the eye you get if you're a pampered Episcopalian. These people were nearly drowning one another. The horses stood and we watched for a long, long time. Everyone who'd been baptized was ecstatic afterwards, and everyone was singing.
Still, we kids liked the beach better–it was our house, after all. What did we care that my stepfather would only have to walk five minutes to the pilot office from the house they eventually bought in town, instead of driving twenty minutes or more from the beach? We were selfish. I, especially, was selfish, in a nineteen-year-old's extra-galling way ("You hardly even LIVE here," my mother snapped, once, when I was whining determinedly about hating town.) Here is the beginning of a short story I wrote the summer we moved. It is titled, rather unimaginatively, "The Harbor Pilot":
Three bridges divide my mother's house from the mainland. Leaving home, she first crosses the drawbridge, which is green and opens sideways rather than up, allowing sailboats to glide beneath it once per hour in summertime. The steel lattice that hunches over the center of the bridge seems suspended then, its empty edges sticking out over the water. Beyond the drawbridge is a long stretch of marsh, full of birds sticking their bills in the mud every six hours when the tide seeps away. Then come the stores along the road, which widens to four lanes, and then come the waterslide and the supermarket and the two TV stations poking red needles into the sky. After the fourth stoplight the periphery widens again and my mother drives her car across Shem Creek. There is water on both sides, but the bridge is too low for boats to pass beneath it, and the marsh is undisturbed on the right except for the seafood restaurants with their wooden boardwalks jutting around the rim of the creek. On the other side are rows of moored sailboats, impotent and crowded, their naked masts and bound sails testaments to wasted wind. The bridge, too, is disappointing, nothing more than a slow rise in the road, a brief glimpse of water between the railings.
This is the journey I imagine my family making, weighed down by possessions, after we leave our house and journey up and down the sloping bridges until we reach the mainland where the new townhouse my mother has bought stands waiting. I imagine first our car, then my stepfather's, then a trailer, another car and another, their trunks swollen with boxes, furniture roped onto their tops. Behind them is the old house, unfamiliar for the last several days in the various stages of moving; behind them is the memory of dismantling the house itself. I imagine my mother, her hair pinned up, wrapping plates in newspaper before putting them in boxes and marking the boxes with black pen. Or my sister and brother, shaking the sheets from the mattresses and folding their clothes. Outside, my stepfather has unscrewed the hose from its spigot, but this taking apart is still reassuring, a reshuffling of familiar things laid out at one's feet: these books, tables, lamps, are ours.
I imagine the beginning of packing, sorting things out. At first, the move will not seem real, not final, no more than a temporary inconvenience. A year ago, my mother had the front hall painted, and for a week the furniture and floor were swathed in plastic. The curtains were taken down, and the sunlight came in unfamiliar patterns. Moving seems a bit like renovation; the unfamiliarity of bare walls and empty rooms sharpens the memory of how things were. Emptied, the house is clearer, larger, more grand and more silent. And, until the doors are locked and the unsteady caravan begins over the bridges to town, the house is still ours, the memory is clear, we expect to enter and find things as we left them.
I found the story on the second day of packing, in a box filled with notebooks, old English papers, and letters from obsolete sweethearts. The prose made me wince, but there was something positively surreal about reading a story (which I had forgotten ever writing) that described moving out of the beach house while actually moving out of the beach house–again. I looked up. There was my mother, wrapping plates in newspaper with her hair pinned up. There was the sun, blazing through the curtainless windows. The story is not in any way prophetic. I wrote it after the first move, and I couldn't have known we'd get the house back. Which we did, about five years later, when the couple who bought it from us called my mother up one day out of the blue. "You asked us to tell you first if ever we decided to sell," they said, and my mother, by then divorced from the harbor pilot, bought the beloved house again without a second thought.
It was the summer I got married. "I'll never leave this place," she said, many times over the years that followed. And then, last August, she did.
The reasons aren't important, and they make perfect sense, even to me. Still. It's the house we loved, relinquished, and were restored to. What are the chances? My children loved it. My ex-husband adored it. I'd always hoped to live there myself some day.
I contemplated reading the story to my mother, decided against it (too boring, not to mention embarrassing) and went on packing. At sundown, I walked barefoot to the beach and swam. It's not as if the whole island is disappearing, I told myself, bobbing lazily in the waves. I can still drive out here. I can still bring the kids. The following day, I loaded a bunch of my mother's lovely furniture onto a sixteen-foot rental truck, and drove it seven hundred miles up the coast to my house, all by myself.
There should be a German word for Things You Never Thought You'd Do, Because Marriage Has Rendered You Selectively Incompetent. There should also be a German word for Things You Fear, Though You Know You'll Find Them Thrilling Once You Actually Begin. Perhaps there should be a German word for someone who drives a sixteen-foot truck all the way home while thinking it's merely a ten-foot truck, and there should certainly be a German word for the feeling that comes from realizing you have been even braver and more impressive than you thought–a whole six feet braver, if we're shooting for linguistic precision. And a German word for Taking Credit Where No Credit Is Due, which is what I did the minute I realized the truck was a behemoth. I wasn't trying to drive an extra-big rig. At the time, I assumed I was getting the ten-footer I'd reserved on the internet. But the rental place had one truck in its lot, and while it certainly looked enormous to me (and there seemed to be rather a lot of space left over after everything was loaded), it's not like I bothered to check. Nowadays, I've become something of an expert on rental truck sizes, and the sweet little ten-foot models look like SmartCars to me. At the time, though, I just gritted my teeth and climbed into the driver's seat.
And I drove it home without incident. Like most things I've skittishly avoided since the separation, the trip turned out to be–well, one abhors the term "empowering", but you get my drift. The lamer you are, the less it takes to make you feel badass. The engine light stayed on the entire time, and the driver's side mirror was busted (I had to hold it in place in rush hour traffic on the Beltway), but I made it. When I pulled all sixteen feet into my driveway, my kids' jaws dropped in unison. They clambered into the cab, marveling at how big it was, and then the three of us unloaded the furniture and moved it, piece by piece, into our house.
Here is a closeup of the truck's graffiti. "Maybe all the other truck drivers thought you were in a gang," my older son said.
The truck itself was so big that it didn't fit in the frame, no matter how far back I stood.
And here are some swampy pictures of South Carolina, complete with banana spiders. Can you spot the hidden alligator?
He's not in the picture above. That's a hint.
Another hint: He's a little tiny one.
Unlike these guys, who are huge.
Taking this picture up close was scarier than driving the monster truck. Merry Christmas, everyone.
SarahB permalinkDecember 25, 2011 4:28 am
Merry Christmas! I just thought of you this week as I read–and thoroughly enjoyed–rules of Civility. I look forward to more posts.
Donna permalinkDecember 25, 2011 7:03 pm
Merry Christmas! Great post, as usual.
Sharon permalinkDecember 27, 2011 10:19 am
I love South Carolina. Charleston and the Isle of Palms are my two most favorite places on earth.
December 27, 2011 10:29 am
The house in question was (is!) on Sullivan's Island, but I spent many a summer/year on Isle of Palms as well….
December 27, 2011 10:57 am
I find it vastly refreshing to read about warmth and activities other than the Christmas cocooning I am currently enjoying. (I always feel monthly calendars should have pictures of something warm in December- February, and somewhere cold for July & August – so we can take a break from the unrelenting cold/heat outside)
I truly love your writing. 'The preterite beau-père, perhaps?' and 'letters from obsolete sweethearts' are keepers.
Both for how much of a chord you struck and how delightfully you phrased it, I think I should embroider this particular bit on a pillow:
"…one abhors the term "empowering", but you get my drift.'
Yay You.
Thanks for getting back to us. I'd happily read your grocery lists, please keep writing.
Nan permalinkDecember 27, 2011 10:43 pm
Thank goodness you are back. I enjoy your writing immensely.
em permalinkDecember 29, 2011 11:50 am
Merry Christmas and thanks for writing again! Your prose is beautiful!
December 29, 2011 11:23 pm
OK, so my holiday gift is that you are back! Excellent. More please.
Sharon permalinkJanuary 31, 2012 11:36 am
Funny, I found a picture just last night of my famly on Sullivan's Island. Our very close friends lived in Mt. Pleasant for years and we visited all the time. Unfortunately, they divorced and moved back up north where we live. Sad, I miss their intact family and I miss visiting the area. How wonderful to have spent your growing up years there.


text:
Full Article
Brigitte Nielsen and her husband Mattia Dessi were spotted out together for the first time since announcing their big pregnancy news.
At over six feet tall, the Danish-Italian actress and model towered over her husband, a former model himself, while out for a stroll in Los Angeles on Thursday.
The 54-year-old actress announced her fifth pregnancy on Instagram and Twitter Monday, showing her baby bump in a curve-hugging gray dress.
"Family getting larger #me #family #brigittenielsen #babybump," Nielsen, who wed Dessi in 2006, captioned her photo. Also on Wednesday, she shared another bump picture, writing, "Happy time positive vibes."
Nielsen, who has been married five times, is already mom to four sons: Raoul Meyer Jr., 23, Douglas Meyer, 25, Killian Gastineau, 28, and Julian Winding, 34.
The star previously opened up about wanting to have more kids in August 2008.
"The children have kept me going. After I do Playboy, we want to try IVF. It's asking a lot, but if it's possible, it would make our package complete," Nielsen told Hello! magazine.
Nielsen was previously married to Kasper Winding from 1983 to 1984, Rocky IV co-star Sylvester Stallone from 1985 to 1987, photographer Sebastian Copeland from 1990 to 1992 and Raoul Meyer from 1993 to 2005.
Also in 2004, Nielsen appeared on VH1's The Surreal Life, where she met rapper, Flavor Flav. Their romance was documented on the spinoff reality show, Strange Love.
Source: people.com
Date Posted: Sunday, June 3rd, 2018 , Total Page Views: 3494
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text: I am looking forward to TYLER PERRY'S new show on OWN tonight called THE HAVES AND HAVE NOTS. I have seen the trailer for this show and I think it ought to be great. I watched Tyler Perry being interviewed by Oprah on her Oprah's Next Chapter this past Saturday. This man is awesome. He has produced two shows for OWN and as I indicated, the first one begins tonight. I'll let you know tomorrow if I'm still impressed. Check it out for yourself and let me know what you think. See the trailer above. I think the show comes on at 9 pm on OWN. Check your local listings.


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Apple doens't disclose Apple Watch Shipments, but there are indirect ways to estimate, and the numbers are becoming impressive.
When I'm in the mall, waling thru Macy's or Dillards, I'm always amazed by the jewelry section with its gleaming showcases of sparkling, dumb watches. There are never any customers collected around those well-lit glass cases, and I tell my wife that all these dumb watches will be gone soon.
Just like typewriters.
But it's amazing to me how the department stores hang onto this tradition, a near obsession. I have a hard time imagining why someone would, in 2019, walk into a Macy's and drop $500 on a dumb watch. Okay, I can think of one. You're James May about to go on a driving tour of some remote, exotic country and nightly charging of an Apple Watch might not be possible. Dumb watch batteries last years—precisely because they're asked to do so little.
Apple Watch Sales
I saw this report, based on Strategy Analytics data. S.A. has a good reputation and generally knows what it's doing.
The upshot is that while Apple Watch market share dropped from 60% in 2017 to 50% in 2018, thanks to gains by Samsung, the total (estimated) Apple Watch sales went from 17.7 million to 22.5 million. Elsewhere, cumulative sales of 50 million units to date have been estimated. With an ASP of about $500, that means Apple has earned US$25 billion in revenue in about four years.
That's a tidy sum.
More to the point, we've reached an inflection point. It's no longer a situation where a smartwatch is considered some kind of geek toy, enjoyed by only a few. As the BusinessWire article points out:
Smartwatch growth is soaring, as consumers seek to accessorize their smartphones and bring digital connectivity to their wrists.
Smartwatch data is instant and compelling. The outdoor temperature. Stock prices. Transit data. Calculator. A telephone. Health monitoring. The next calendar event. Sunset time. It's all there with a flick of the wrist.
I would be lost, appalled and frustrated if I had to wear a dumb watch again for any length of time. A smartwatch is just one of those things, now, that we'll quickly take for granted.
Someday soon, those brightly lit cases of dumb watches in the department store will be gone. Meanwhile, the department stores (and their executives) live in the past, clinging to a notion that's pathetically outdated. Why those showcases even exist today amazes me.


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CommBank Essential Super: Performance, features and fees
The Lifestage investment option is a MySuper product that invests your super in line with your age.
The CommBank Essential Super product isn't available for new members to join, but existing members are able to switch between the different investment options offered. If you're an existing member, this review outlines the different investment options available to you.
If you're not an existing CommBank Essentials Super member looking for a new super fund to join, take a look at our super fund comparison instead.
Past performance - 1 year
Past performance - 5 Years
Calculated fees p.a. on $50,000 balance
|Commonwealth Essential Super - Lifestage
|Past 5 year performance
|Annual admin fee
$70.56 + 0.35% of balance p.a.
|Calculated fees on 50K
|Insurance included
|Death, TPD
|Number of members
Key things to know about CommBank Essential Super
- MySuper product. The default Lifestage option is a registered MySuper product.
- Lifestage investment option. The Lifestage investment option does all the work for you, investing your balance in a mix of assets appropriate for your age.
- Four ways to invest. Members can choose from four different ways to invest their super balance.
- Not accepting new members. This fund isn't accepting new members, only existing members can keep their super unvested with CommBank Essential Super.
CommBank Essential Super investment options
There are four ways to invest your super with CommBank Essential Super. If you didn't make a choice when joining the fund, you'll be placed in the Lifestage option, which is the default MySuper product. However, members can switch between these options at any time.
What fees does CommBank Essential Super charge?
Here's an example of the annual fees charged if you're in the Lifestage 1975-79 option, with a $50,000 balance.
- Administration fee: $70.56 plus 0.35% of balance.
- Investment fee plus indirect cost ratio: 0.46%
- Calculated annual fees on $50,000 balance: $475.56
Each investment option charges slightly different annual fees.
What default insurance cover does CommBank Essential Super offer?
All members will receive default Death and Total and Permanent Disablement (TPD) cover when joining. You can choose to opt out of insurance when joining or any time after joining.
How do I join CommBank Essential Super?
CommBank Essential Super isn't available for any new members to join. Existing members can still switch between the different investment options outlined above and adjust their insurance cover.
If you're looking for a new super fund to join, take a look at our super funds comparison instead to see the available funds.
Ask an expert
To ask a question simply log in via your email or create an account.
2 Comments


text:
Port Authority airports broke overall passenger records last year with 111.6 million fliers, the agency said Monday.
The last traveler record set for the Port Authority came in 2007, before the recession.
That year saw 1.5 million fewer fliers than 2013.
Port Authority-operated airports broke individual records of their own in 2013.
Kennedy Airport had a record 50 million annual passengers, including a record 26 million international travelers.
LaGuardia Airport clocked in a record 1.6 million international passengers.


text:
As the sensitive skin under the eyes tends to be one of the first places that starts to show signs of aging as one grows older, taking care of it can help to turn back the clock dramatically -- a process that's made easy with Philosophy's 'Time in a Bottle For Eyes' serum.
The gentle formula is suitable for all skin types, and is made to act as a solution for dark circles and puffiness, as well as fine lines and wrinkles. To use it, consumers simply dab it around their eyes in the morning and evening on a frequent basis to see the effects.
The serum works by repairing any damage to the sensitive skin, all while protecting it from environmental aggressors and improving the skin's natural ability to fight the look of aging.
Philosophy's 'Time in a Bottle for Eyes' Fights the Signs of Aging
Riley von Niessen — January 3, 2018 — Fashion
References: philosophy & sephora


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Get Paid To Walk With 15+ Money Sites And Apps
We all need to get our cardio in to stay healthy. The easiest way to do so is walk. Guess what? You can also get paid to walk! We looked at a tin of companies that paid you to walk and listed them below, from the most passive that just pay you for the walking you already do, to ones that pay you for walking more!
Check them out below
- 1 Get Paid To Walk From Sweatcoin
- 2 Use HealthyWage To Lose Weight
- 3 ShopKick Pays You To Walk Into Stores
- 4 PostMates Pays You To Walk Food To Others
- 5 Get Paid To Walk With DoorDash
- 6 Dog Walking For Exercise
- 7 JobSpotter Pays You To Walk & Find Job Listings
- 8 DietBet Pays You To Walk
- 9 Achievement Pays You To Walk
- 10 Research Labs That Pay You To Walk
- 11 City Tour Guide
- 12 Get Paid To Walk With GigWalk
- 13 Care For Others
- 14 Delivering Items
- 15 Walgreens Balance Pays You For Walking And Health
- 16 Charity Miles
- 17 Can You Stack The Apps That Pay You To Walk?
- 18 Are There Other Ways To Get Paid To Exercise?
Get Paid To Walk From Sweatcoin
Sweatcoin pays you for the walking you're already doing.
Only outside steps will be counted with Sweatcoin in order to ensure they are real steps. Indoor steps are more susceptible to cheating, so to make it fair they just don't count indoor steps. An example of this would be putting your phone on a Roomba or your dog and letting it wander around.
You earn 1 Sweatcoin per 1,000 steps. The lowest tier allows you to earn 5 Sweatcoins per day, with other tiers allowing you to earn even more. The American Heart Association recommends 10,000 steps a day, so you can get your normal exercise in and get paid to walk.
Sweatcoin pays you via Paypal or you can use Sweatcoins to redeem products Sweatcoins partners with.
Redemptions start at $50 and go up to $1,000.
Use HealthyWage To Lose Weight
If you're trying to lose weight by walking more, check out HealthyWage.
HealthyWage is a site that will bet you money if you can lose weight. You can win up to $10,000 if you meet your weight loss goal.
You pick how many pounds you'd like to lose and how much time you need, and get paid when you win. The least amount of body weight you can bet to lose is 10 percent of your body weight, which is not that much!
Get up to $10,000 for winning a weight loss bet.
ShopKick Pays You To Walk Into Stores
Shopkick is an app that pays you to walk into stores.
You get paid in "Kicks", which you can exchange for dollars. If you go to a large mall and walk into each store, you'll be sure to rack up a ton of kicks. You'll also get kicks for scanning items and using coupons.
You'll get 250 kicks to start, not bad for walking around the mall!
PostMates Pays You To Walk Food To Others
Postmates is similar to DoorDash. It's a food delivery service in large, urban cities.
We've definitely ordered from Postmates before when we wanted Chick-Fil-A and didn't want to walk 10-15 minutes to get it, so we paid someone via Postmates to get it for us and then tipped them handsomely.
Postmates works the same way as DoorDash, where you can turn on the app when you're free and switch it off when you don't want to deliver anymore.
Get Paid To Walk With DoorDash
DoorDash is a company that pays people to deliver food. They only exist in large urban cities where walking from one place to another is often faster than driving or taking the subway.
You can decide when you want to deliver or not and just switch off your status to off when you don't want to deliver. This means you can just do one a day to get your walking in.
You'll also get a tip for delivering food as well. If you're okay with walking and delivering food in your free time, take a look at DoorDash.
Dog Walking For Exercise
This one is perfect if you already have a dog.
When you walk your dog, you can walk someone else's dog as well, and get paid to do it! 2 birds with one stone, and you'll get paid!
Check out Rover and Wag, which are apps that connect dog walkers with dog owners. If you get multiple dogs at a time, you'll get paid more. Get clients that repeatedly want walks and you'll get some nice recurring income while getting paid to walk!
JobSpotter Pays You To Walk & Find Job Listings
JobSpotter is an app that Indeed made to digitize jobs that weren't advertised online.
For example, many restaurants and small businesses put up a sign looking for help and don't use online job boards.
JobSpotter wants to help people find jobs that only advertise in-person and build a more complete job listing database. So they pay you to take pictures of these physical job listings.
Take a stroll around your neighborhood and take pictures of any new job listings you see and JobSpotter will pay you for those pictures.
DietBet Pays You To Walk
DietBet is another weight loss site that pays you if you win a bet on weight loss.
You can't make a direct bet with the site though, you'll have to join a group and the winnings will be split among people who lose a certain percentage of their weight after DietBet takes their cut.
Your earning potential is less with DietBet, but you can't lose as much money either.
Achievement Pays You To Walk
Achievement is very similar to Sweatcoin, because they are both apps that pay you to walk.
It goes the extra mile though, in that you can also get points for connecting over 30 fitness apps that track your heart rate and other exercise or physical related activities. Here are some of the extra apps you can connect for points:
- Fitbit
- Garmin
- MyFitnessPal
- Runkeeper
You get $10 when you get 10,000 steps you were going to take anyway!
Research Labs That Pay You To Walk
Medical researchers that run studies will sometimes pay you to walk.
You'll have to do it at their lab, but they are probably the most handsomely paid jobs on the list.
The downside is sometimes you'll have to take a certain drug that hasn't come on before the market and you'll have to get to the researcher's lab.
These gigs are also rare, so you'll have to call around and get to know the research staff so you can get your name in before the slots are filled. Google your city or area name + research studies to see if any are available near you.
City Tour Guide
If you love your city and want to walk around it while showing other people around, this one is for you. You'll also get tips! Imagine showing a group of 5-15 people around your city and earning a nice tidy sum as well.
For the city tour guide, you'll have to love people and walking though, so it might be hard for introverts.
If you want to check this out, Google "tour guides" + your city/area to join in and get paid to walk by giving local tours or you can check out Viator for your city.
Get Paid To Walk With GigWalk
GigWalk pays you to walk and take pictures of your neighborhood and confirm details.
You might be asked to verify if certain buildings are still standing, if street signs are still correct, etc. and GigWalk will pay you to walk around and check whatever details the app comes up with.
Care For Others
Care is a site that helps others find care for their loved ones. If you become a nanny for small kids or take old seniors for a walk, you can get paid to walk with them.
Check out care for the elderly or for babysitting or taking care of little kids.
Delivering Items
You can get paid to deliver items to local businesses or households.
One of the best ways to get paid to walk around your neighborhood is to deliver newspapers to houses close to you.
Check to see if any local businesses need this.
Can you think of any other ways to get paid to walk? Let us know and we'll add it above!
Walgreens Balance Pays You For Walking And Health
Walgreens links with fitness trackers and gives you Redemption Dollars. You can get 20 points per mile with a cap of 1,000 points for fitness related activities per month.
You also get points for weight, sleep, blood pressure, blood sugar, etc.
Charity Miles
Charity Miles' name is pretty apt.
You walk and a donation to a charity of your choice is made. You technically get paid to walk, but if you want to donate this money to charity, you can do so through Charity Miles.
Can You Stack The Apps That Pay You To Walk?
None of these apps run on the same platform, so you could download a bunch and then stack the rewards. If you're ok with a couple more apps on your phone, this would be a great option to earn some passive income for doing something you're already doing: walking.
Unless you're running a super old phone, these apps shouldn't deplete your battery too quickly.
Are There Other Ways To Get Paid To Exercise?
There are a number of apps that pay you to exercise. If you love exercising already, check out that route.
Author: Olivia
Olivia worked in finance and wants you to learn the secrets of financial independence. She believes there are so many ways to monetize your life and make money doing the things you're already doing because so many companies offer free money.
The average savings account rate is 0.1%. The big banks have incredibly low savings accounts rates. CIT Bank offers a 1.75% savings account. You can open an account with just $100 and no monthly fees or charge . Tired of being charged fees and getting peanuts in interest at your current bank? Open a CIT Bank savings account in less than 15 minutes online.
If you have a car, Rideshare apps allow you to pick a direction you want to go twice a day, so you can get extra money going somewhere you were driving to anyway at least twice a day. Get a $300 sign-up bonus with Lyft.
One of my favorite ways ways of monetizing my life is via credit card bonuses with cards that give you cashback or rewards. Check out our review of the Chase Sapphire cards, which give you at least $500 in cash or $625 in travel credit.