Making copies of keys near me

Im a 21 year old male, still unlearning things that my parents taught me and trying different things. I was raised extremely traditional. I will admit and be a man of my word, I probably do have a fragile masculinity and I want to work on it. I don't want to be a misogynistic or anything I promise I just have this problem.
Apparently I feel like my girlfriend is going to find me worthless and eventually leave me because she makes more money than me. My dad taught me that I need to be the provider and to be the one always making more money. She makes $23 an hour and I make $18. I mean yea $200-$300 a check more isn't such a big difference but its enough to make me feel the way I do.
I realize that i shouldn't be feeling that way but Its like fighting an urge to not be jealous. I feel jealousy and I feel like a piece of shit. I believe women can earn more than the man as well. But I just have this everlasting feeling she will leave me because women look for a man that is financially providing.
Anyway to avoid feeling this way or has anyone else experienced this? Btw if you bash me I will ignore your message and pay no attention to it. Real advice only please.

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I feel I have to preface this so I don’t get fucking crucified: I support equal rights for everyone of every gender, and acknowledge that each gender has it’s own unique struggles. Okay? Okay. I don’t hurt women. I don’t hurt men either. I don’t hurt people. But because I’m a man, somehow I’m responsible for every horrible thing a man has ever done to a woman. I didn’t do anything wrong, I try to be a good person and help. I go to protests and marches, but sometimes I get told to leave, that I’m not welcome, that just by being there I’m “trying to make it about myself.” Thought maybe once I realized I wasn’t completely straight that I’d have a place in the LGBTQ+ community, but I guess my sexuality isn’t valid. I’m scared to even talk about these feelings with people; I know the response is always going to be that women have it worse, so I shouldn’t complain. So I’m not even allowed to be upset about feeling awful inside all the time. In fact, I’ve even been told that it would be healthy for me to take five minutes every day to think about all the crimes my gender is responsible for, and think about how I can start paying it back. The message I’m getting is “You’re a monster, we hate you, you deserve to be hated, and it’s your job to fix everything.”

We have a pair of crows that nested in our cedar hedge this year. Yesterday as I was leaving one of the babies was on the ground and the parents were very vocal. I asked hubby to check and make sure it wasn't injured as my ride had arrived. He texted me later to say that it appeared ok and parents were feeding it. Then a little later he texted to say it he heard them freaking out and went out to check and baby was dead, no obvious injuries. This morning I go out and there is another one dead and torn up. I haven't heard any more from the hedge. I am incredibly upset and the thought of them losing more babies if they have more in the nest. There is raccoons in the area and the odd cat. We have a large dog but he was in the house over night and really I doubt he would hurt anything as the smaller birds hop around the grass right beside him and he just watches. I really want these babies to make it. The neighbors had nesting crows last year and a raccoon got the eggs before they even hatched(screaming at the raccoons had zero effect). Is there anything I can do to try and protect the babies once they fledge aside from 24hour crow watch?

Hey guys, I really don't know what's wrong with my mac, but I have serious trouble logging in to my account(s).
I restarted the mac because I was low on storage (clear cache) and I needed to download something. After I restarted the mac did not accept my passwords for BOTH of my accounts. The second accounts password is literally the account name, I typed it a hundred times and it still tells me it's not correct. I used an external keyboard - still wrong. So I booted in safe mode because I thought about malware or something like that - still not accepting the passwords to none of the two accounts. A password reset via Apple ID is impossible because I activated file vault like half a year ago. I thought I took a picture of the key, but now I can't find it. I have a backup, but it's already a few months old. No backup, no mercy I know that. I just really want to know what has happened here? How is that possible? I never had any issues with this mac, but now it is rejecting two passwords for two accounts. Is there anything else I can do?

Jesi had never been in a hotel before certainly not one as fine as the one Mr Ericson took her and Damion too. They had a suite all to themselves it had two bedrooms connected to a living room, and kitchen. The hotel room was larger then the apparent she used to share with her mama all those years ago. Damion shared a room with Mr. Ericson but for the first time in her life Jesi had a room all to herself. She thought it would feel secure, but she still slept with a knife under her pillow. Still the bed was so soft she felt like it was going to swallow her alive every night. Her nights were one thing but the days were another thing entirely, they were a whirlwind activity. First there was the image coach, a person that Mr. Ericson hired to find a way to make sure Damion and Jesi, both looked nicer then street kids but were still comfortable. Then there was the mountain of paper work and explanations of how her life would change once she signed the papers. Mr. Ecrison said that the press had heard there was an heir to the O’Connal empire but they didn’t have her name or face yet. He was hoping that meant they would have a quite arrival when their plane landed in upstate New York.
He realized he was wrong the moment they entered the airport. Mr. Ericson was shocked to see the number of reporters swarming the gate. He cursed under his breath he’d been so careful he’d even gone out of his way to ask O’Connal’s business partner Constance Karington if they could borrow her family’s private jet to fly the girl in under the radar. With a sigh he squared his shoulders and looked at the two young adults behind him. “You both need to stay quite they will snap photos, shout questions, and shove whatever kind of recording devices they have practically down your throats for a sound bite. Do not give them one.” Mr. Ericson commanded as he lead them toward the crowd. Airport security was already attempting to hold the crowd back. The instant the crowd caught sight of Jesi flashes began to blind them all while the questions started flying
“Miss Jahari is it true you never knew your father?”
“Miss Jahari are you going to sell the company?”
“Miss, Jahari how does it feel to be Cinderella?”
Jesi was proud of herself for not pulling her knife on any of the reporters at the airport. She didn’t like people in general and she certainly wasn’t used to crowds surrounding and recording her. Mr Ericson parted the crowd as best he could and then shoved both Jesi and Damion into a waiting black sedan, with a driver. A short ride later and the small black sedan pulled up to a set of iron gates in the center of a brick wall that surrounded a mansion as big as a castle. The street in front of the wall however was filled bumper to bumper with cars parked on the curb. As the black sedan they were in pulled up to the gates people mobbed the car banging on the windows shouting questions making it hard for the car to move. Mr. Ericson pushed a button on his phone and the gates swung inward admitting the car the driver moved forward slowly through the throng as the gates swung shut behind them. The car pulled up to the front of the house and an older matronly type woman, came rushing out, as Mr. Ericson opened Jesi’s door.
“Ah, let me look at you!” the woman cried out in a thick Irish accent as she looked at Jesi.
“Jesminda Jahari this is your father’s maid and cook Mrs. Mable Mcguil, she has served your father’s family since before I can remember.”
“Aye, your mother must have been a beauty. Why just look at ya! You did get yer Father’s hair though I see, and his eyes.” Mable said as she reached out to brush a strand of red hair from Jesi’s face
“You knew my father?’ Jesi asked
“Knew him? Why I helped his mother raise ‘im I did. Kindest boy you’d ever want to meet. Ack, but he did he ever have a stubborn streak.” Mable added with a laugh
“Mable, my dear, I know you want to get to know Miss Jahari but that’s better left inside I think as the wolves are snapping pictures at the gate.”
“Ack, of course where are my manners, get in here all of ye.” Mable said as she turned to lead the way into the house. Mr. Ericson handed Damion and Jesi the 2 small carry on bags worth of clothes they’d purchased a few days ago, and motioned the two of them to follow Mable inside while he took his own bag from the trunk.
Jesi stepped wide eyed into the large foyer, the floors were a black and gold marble. The walls were a pristine white, with a stair case on either side curving up to the open second floor but what drew Jesi’s eye was a large painting hanging on the wall between the stair cases. A small family of three with a rather severe looking man with blonde hair standing tall a woman beside him with red hair gave anyone who entered a warm welcoming smile. The boy in the front drew jesi in he was around 7 at the time of the painting. Red hair green eyes but the happy smile he gave didn’t quite make it to his eyes. Jesi walked toward the painting staring at the child.
“That’s your father.” Mabel said walking up beside Jesi. “I remember that day clear as a bell yer grandfather insisted on a family portrait sitting. Ah, but yer father little scamp that he was was having none of it. All he wanted was to go out and play in the yard. The artist finally got yer grandfather to agree to take a photo to make the painting off of. As soon as he was free Conner went out and rolled through the grass in that fancy suit you see ‘im wearing. Aye but yer Grandfather was in a snit for days over the grass stains.”
“This house is massive.” Jesi said looking around the foyer.”
“Ah, but we do agree on that. To the left You’ll find the kitchen, dinning room, ballroom, bathroom, den, and living room. Through the right door you’ll find the home theater, another bathroom, library, office, gym and indoor pool. Upstairs there are nine bedrooms each with their own on suite bathroom, And the master bedroom has exclusive access to it’s own balcony. The third floor contains the greenhouse conservatory and excellent views.”
“So many rooms for only three people.” Jesi marveled turning a slow circle around the foyer.
“Yes, that was yer Grandfather for ye. The man insisted on showing the world how successful he was by getting the best of everything privet jet, fancy yacht, all the cars, the house. Yer father was a much simpler type He would have been happy with a one room apparent in the city. That’s why he never replaced the privet jet after the crash. He didn’t see a need, said if he was gonna fly it could be commercially, with real people.”
Jesi stood staring at the painting tears burned the back of her throat, as waves of emotion beat at her. Her father sounded like such a good man she wished she could have known him, but right on the heels of that she was so angry, her father lived in such excess while she and her mother had scraped by on nothing. Yet according to Ericson her father had never known that she existed her grandfather had lied to her father to her mother. Jesi choked back the tears and clung to the only emotion that had kept her alive for so long. Anger. “I hate them.” she ground between clenched teeth.
Mabel’s face fell she seemed to be hoping for a more joyful reaction from Jesi, but to her credit she didn’t try to talk the girl out of her pain either. Damion walked over and placed an arm around Jesi’s shoulders. “Mrs. Mcguil, is there a room we can go to for rest and a little privacy?” Damion asked
As soon as the door to the large guest bedroom drifted shut behind them Jesminda let her real feelings be known. She broke into deep sobs and fell into Damion’s arms.
“I don’t- I can’t- How could he- How could they-” Jesi started so many sentences but the jumble of emotion stampeding through her.
“Easy Jes, take a breath.” Damion tried as he held her.
“Why am I morning a man I never met? A man who abandoned me?” Jesi started
“Because he didn’t abandon you not on purpose Jes.”
“I want to hate him. I need to hate him, Why can’t I hate him?” Jesi sobbed
“Your right Jes it’s not fair. None of this is fair. It’s a lot to take in, and neither of us have taken the time to really process this.”
“In the hotel he didn’t seem real, but now… He was my father, and I never knew his name.”
“I know, Jes, it’s not fair.”
“He was stolen from me!”
“Yes he was.”
“This whole life was stolen from me!” Jesi hiccuped
Damion just held her and let her cry. There was so much for them both to process. Jesi was now one of the richest women in the nation, and she had insisted that Damion share her home as the brother he’d been to her since the day they’d met.
Jesi spent the rest of the day in the guest room that was now her bedroom with Damion bouncing between sorrow and anger like a rubber ball. Eventually she cried herself to sleep. Damion had just eased her into the plush bed, when a soft knock sounded on the door.
“Hey, uumm.” Damion stammered he wished he could remember the maid’s name.
“Mabel deary. How is she?” Mabel asked as she tried to look past Daion towards Jesi.
“She’s sleeping.” Damion said protectivily blocking to door.
“I mean her no harm.” Mabel said gently
Damion winced and tried to force himself to relax “Sorry, I know you don’t it’s just…” He trailed off at a loss “I’ve protectd her since she was five. Its just really hard to let that go.”
“Ye love her then?” Mable asked
“Of course.” Damion stopped and then a thought occurred to him “Oh! Oh you mean! No, no we’re not like that. She’s basically the sister I -” he stopped.
“Yer sister?”
“The crash that took my parents. It also killed my five year old sister Amy. Three days later I met Jesi, she looks nothing like Amy, but she was the same age and well I guess I wanted to protect her the way I couldn’t protect my family.”
“Ack, ye poor dear.” Mabel said with tears pooling in her eyes. “She’s safe here though, not a sole can get past the walls without setting off the alarms.”
Damion stiffened “Jesi, doesn’t like loud noises. Not since her mother was shot.”
“She was there?” Mable asked
“I thought Mr. Ericson would have told you?” Damion asked in confusion
“No, he told me who she was and that her mother had been killed but nothing else.”
“Yeah, she was there, her mom had to take her to work that night and, she says all she remembers is her mom stuffing her in a cabinet then she heard someone yell for the manager then the shots.”
“My God! Did she see anything?”
“No the officer on the scene worked really hard to make sure she didn’t see anything, But she’s been really jumpy ever since.”
“Ack, the poor dear. Well it seems there’s nothing more You and I can do for her til she wakes come I’ll show ye to yer room you must be tired as well.”
“I-I can’t leave her I’ll just stay here with her.”
“She’s safe here. Your safe here. You need rest too.”
“And I’ll get it right here beside her.”
“Ye’ve taken care of her for thirteen years, Ye’ve earned a rest and so has she.”
“We rest better together.”
“I’m sure ye do, and you’ll be ale to hear her through the wall if there’s trouble.” Mable encouraged
“I-”
“Yer both safe. She’ll be fine.”
Damion reluctantly followed Mable from the room. Mable made a show of taking a key from her pocket and locking the door to the room she explained that she was the only one with a key to unlock the bedroom doors but that all door could be locked or unlocked from the inside.
The next morning Mable opened Jesminda’s door with a cart of food behind her. “Good moring Miss Jes-” Mable froze as Jesi lept from the bed a knife brandished in her hand it’s tip nearly rested on Mabel’s neck
“Sorry,” Jesi said as she lowered the knife. “Force of habit.”
“Well, I will say that’s a new way to get the blood runnin in the mornin.” Mabel said with a giggle “Is there a reason ye have a knife on ye?”
“I’ve slept with a knife since I was sixteen.”
“And ye haven’t cut yerself?” Mable tried to joke
“No, Sargent Mullens trained me and Damion how to defend ourselves.”
“Sargent Mullens?” Mable asked
“He was staying at the first homeless shelter we crashed at after leaving the home. I was young inexperienced in street life and so excited to have my first shower in weeks I wasn’t careful enough. After I walked into the ladies room a man grabbed me from behind. He clamped his hand over my mouth and put a knife to my throat. I tried to scream to struggle while he cut my clothes off. Sargent Mullens heard the struggle and rushed in. He pulled the man off before anything happened and called for help. The man tried to cut Mullens but he dodged the blade, disarmed him, and held him until the folks that ran the shelter arrived. He told them to bring the guy to the police for sexual assault. After he helped me and Damion disappear when the police showed up and then taught us how to survive on the streets we stayed with him for about 4 months, until he disappeared.”
“That must have been hard on ye both.” Mable said
“It’s life on the street.”
“Jesi!” Damion called out as he rushed into the room.
“Ah and that saves me the trouble of bringing breakfast to ye as well.” Mable said as she motioned to the cart behind her. “I didn’t know yer preferences, so I, well, I made yer Father’s favorites. Bacon, sausage, pancakes, as well as some fruit a selection of juices and, aspirin.”
“How did you know I have a headache?” Jesi asked
“I’ve spent more then a night or two crying meself te sleep. I know the headache ye wake with in the morin all to well. OOP!” Mable said as she pulled her phone from her pocket. “And it seems that Ericson has arrived for the day with company not far behind. Best ye eat up and prepare seems as though yer in for yoru first dose of Constance.”
“Heellloo, Constance Karington,” The tall blonde woman in her early twenties stepped up to Jesi and offered her hand “Your sister.”
“I have a sister?” Jesi asked
“No, you do not.” Ericson answered.
“Oh not a biological sister but Conner was like a second father to me.” Constance said
“That makes one of us.” Jesi griped under her breath
“Oh look at you aren’t you a vision well besides that scare on your neck but don’t you worry my step-mom knows a great plastic surgeon we’ll have that gone in days.”
Jesi rested a self conscious hand over the knife scare on her collar bone.
“I wish you had consulted with me Ms. Karington, Miss Jahri’s schedule is full today.”
“Oh, so I cleared my entire morning of running my very successful company to hang out with my new sister for nothing” Constance protested actually pouting at Ericson.
“I believe you’ll find the company belongs to both of you Ms. Karington, and as I Said if you’d checked with me I could have told you that Miss Jahari’s scheduled is full this morning.”
“Oh come on I’m sure you don’t need a stuffy old man telling you what to do Jesi. You don’t mind if I call you Jesi do you?” Constance’s words dripped with sugar.
“Actually I do mind.” Jesi wasn’t buying Constance’s act for a second. “And Ercison has a full day planned.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do with an open morning Ericson?” Constance tried again
“Since your so keen to have family time I suggest you go connect with your brother.” Ericson suggested
“I suppose I could find Skyler but I look forward to dinner tonight Jesminda.” Constance commanded
“I will contact your office and arrange for a dinner in a few weeks then.” Ericson offered.
“I look forward to it.” Constance said with a smile as she turned to go.
“Oh Ms. Karington I would like to know how our confidential flight itinerary was leaked to the press.” Ericson asked
“Oh right, I have talked to my pilot about that rest assured he’ll be disciplined for his loose lips. Ta.” Constance tossed over her shoulder as she left.
“Who was that?” Damion asked when the door closed behind Constance
“Constance Karington, she is the co CEO of O’Connal and Karington Enterprises.”
“Isn’t she kinda young to be a CEO?” Jesi asked
“She was a child prodigy she graduated high school early and earned her MBA by the time she was 20. Two years ago she convinced her father to entire and hand over his half of the company to her.”
Constance slammed the front door to her family’s home. And let out a frustrated scream.
“I take it your plan to get Cinderella to sign the papers was a bust?” her brother Skyler appeared at the top of the stairs.
“I thought you’d still be sleeping.” Constance griped
“I was until you slammed the door quite rude if I’m honest sister dear.” Skyler, said with a lazy drawl
“Well, tell whoever your current girlfriend is I’m sorry to have disturbed her.” Constance replied with a forced smile
“You can drop the loving sister routine Constance I’m alone today.”
“For once.” Constance laughed sarcastically. “What do Nora find you flirting with a waitress?”
“Her name was Ashley and no, she asked for commitment, and you know I don’t do commitment.”
“Hm. Yet another doe eyed debutante that thought she could marry New York’s most eligible bachelor?”
“Yes you’d think they’d know better by now don’t they all talk?”
“Brother this may surprise you but the world does not actually revolve around you.”
“And it doesn’t serve you sister dear. A fact it seems ‘Cinderella’ reminded you of today.” Skyer gloated
“That company is mine! Conner promised it to me! Then that worthless brainless rat shows up and takes everything from me!” Constance shouted.
“I’m not sure Cinderella showed up isn’t more like Connor hunted her down?”
“Cinderella?” Constance said as a calculating smile slid on to her face
“That look never bodes well.” Skyler observed
“Well, every Cinderella needs her Prince Charming doesn’t she.”
“As I understand it she came with hers did she not?”
“The street rat no he’s more a brother to her as I understand it, but you Brother dear are currently between lovers at the moment.”
“Ha! Don’t even try it. Your little Cinderella is no where near my type.”
“Oh please, she’s beautiful, rich, and a woman that’s exactly your type.”
“Hardly, once a street rat always a street rat!” Skyler objected
“I don’t care, you will romance her get her so infatuated with you that when you tell her it’s in her best interst to sign over the company she’ll comply.”
“And if it can’t.”
“Then you’ll keep it in your pants until you marry her! I will not let some brat swoop in and steal everything I worked my entire life to get!”
“You can’t make me do any of this.”
“Can’t I? Last I checked Brother dear I control your trust fund.”

I revisited the game recently, streaming my gameplay on twitch, and began to quickly realize why I never ended up finishing the game, despite how much I enjoyed playing it through many years and all the time I've spent in it. I began to question why it almost feels like one of those dreams where you're running as fast as you can in the middle of a corridor but you're not actually getting anywhere.
More is not always better: The game starts off quite slow, but very well paced, in terms of gameplay and narrative points, and has one of my favourite starting sequences in a game. But by the time I got to Gran Soren, it became bloated very quickly. Despite how big gran Soren is, I didn't feel encouraged to go over every nook and cranny as I usually do, It just felt empty and I wanted to get out asap. There's so much content thrown at you at once that it quickly becomes meaningless, as I got demotivated to continue the more time I spent.
Difficult does not mean good: DD seems to pride itself on being a difficult game to get into. It's designed in a way that makes you spend more time on what you have to do rather than what you want to do. A difficult game that gives you skill based challenges is different from a game that's difficult because it's inaccessible and designed to be difficult for the player. The main difference is that the first can be very fun and rewarding, and the second is usually more frustrating than it is fun, and rarely rewarding. DD is more the latter, there are very little skill based challenges, and all difficulty/frustration I've faced so far is because of the lack of meaningful quality of life options. The traversal is really bad, the encumbrance system had me spending hours allocating resources to different pawns then to other areas because the pawn is also over encumbered, and being heavy sucks in general because not only is your overall speed slowed but your combat ability is also reduced because of this handicap, which you will really feel if you're playing a character with slower combat abilities like a warrior.
With so much time being spent on doing things that just aren't fun, I'm quickly doubting whether the gameplay is fun to watch and realizing why so few people make gameplay videos of it, I can imagine it would be fun if all side content is ignored and only main story quests are played, while editing out all of the slower, non progressive parts.
I know that alot of these issues are possibly just because the game is really dated, and I definitely do have high hopes for the upcoming game.
For a game that has some of the most vast and diverse bestiary of monsters, a good core narrative and some really cool detailed features like the pawn system and the ability to climb monsters and focus on weak spots, I am ultimately disappointed, DD has so much potential to offer if only some things were done differently.
I do intend to finish it before the second one is out, I'm not giving up yet. Just wanted to vent out some of my observations and frustrations.

Hey there, lovely people of Reddit! I'm a sporty and adventurous guy from Scotland looking to make new connections and engage in exciting conversations on Kik. If you're into sports, fitness, and the great outdoors, we're off to a great start! Here are a few things about me that might pique your interest:

1. Passion for Sports and Fitness: As a PE teacher and personal trainer, my life revolves around all things physical. I love discussing different sports, sharing workout tips, and motivating each other to stay active.
   
2. Casual Chats and Genuine Connections: I'm not here for small talk; I'm here to have meaningful conversations whenever we have some free time. Let's delve into topics that matter to us and create a genuine bond.
   
3. Chatty and Interesting: If you're looking for someone who can hold a conversation and has lived a life full of experiences, you've come to the right place. I love sharing stories, listening to yours, and learning from one another.
   
4. Friendship or More: Whether you're seeking a new friend to chat with or open to exploring a potential romantic connection, I'm open to both. Let's see where our conversations lead us!
   
5. A World of Cultures: While I'm based in Scotland, I'm open to connecting with people from anywhere in the world. I believe there's so much we can learn from different cultures, and I'm excited to explore diverse perspectives.
   
6. Rugby Enthusiast: As a fan of rugby union, I'm always up for discussing the latest games, sharing my favorite moments, and analyzing tactics. If you share this passion or are curious to learn more about the sport, let's chat!
   
7. No Judgement Zone: Sometimes, we all have things we want to talk about but don't feel comfortable sharing with friends or family. Consider me your non-judgmental confidant, ready to lend an ear and provide support whenever you need it.
   
8. Joining Communities: I'm also open to joining specific groups or communities on Kik that align with our interests or values. Let's explore new communities together and expand our horizons.
   
9. Outrageously Funny: Laughter is a key ingredient in life, and I love injecting humor into our conversations. Prepare yourself for some funny stories, outrageous jokes, and guaranteed smiles!
   

So, if you're looking for an active, funny, and engaging Scotsman to add to your Kik, don't hesitate to reach out! Let's start chatting, discovering new perspectives, and creating lasting connections. I can't wait to meet you all!

Hi guys!
I've been looking for some time, but they usually don't write about these functions, and it became too tedious for me to run each server separately to check the functions
I want an audio server like Spotify with an android app and a web version
​
But my main criteria are:

1. You should be able to create multiple users
   
2. Users can batch upload their own music
   
3. Each user has his own library, he does not see the music of other users
   

​
And it would be nice, but it's not necessary

1. IOS support
   
2. The ability to search globally where you could find music that other users have uploaded
   

3.1 The ability to make your uploaded tracks invisible in the global search

1. You can share music (link to track)
   
2. Chat between users
   

A bit of a longshot but if someone has seen her or a cat that looks like her, please let me know as I'm desperate to get my cat home.
My cat, Dixie, has gone missing. She was last seen at home on Monday, May 15th near W St James Rd and Chesterfield. My husband and I were out of the country visiting sick family and our housesitters negligently let her outside at night even after we left explicit instructions for them to keep her indoors due to local wildlife.
When we are home, we use a GPS tracker to let her outdoors during the day and the housesitters took it off before opening the window and letting her out. Because of this, she is not wearing a collar. However, she is microchipped.
We think she was rather unhappy with the housesitters and when she got out she came to look for us and has therefore gone out further than her normal territory. It's been two and a half weeks but we're still hopeful she is out there. Please let me know if you see any cats in your neighborhood that might be her or that look like her but aren't one of your usual outdoor neighborhood cats.
We would love to get Dixie home safely as she is greatly missed. If you do see her, please don't chase her as she can be rather skittish.
https://preview.redd.it/i9s5ie4b9o3b1.jpg?width=1335&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=7c90921dd34b81ac824889a49f1aad8bd4416574

I am an adult in a decade long relationship with the father of my two babies. His mom asked him to run to the hardware store for her. We agreed we would would leave in a little bit but no rush and then go to the store after. I started getting myself and the kids ready but then he said he is just going to go with his friend and that I will stay home with the kids because it’s just ‘too chaotic’ for us to come. I told him that bums me out because I wanted to get out of the house for some fresh air (mentioned that with them fussy n screaming it would’ve been great to try a car ride and getting out for a stroll) so there for would’ve appreciated a conversation about preferring we don’t come before I started getting the babies ready.
The babies were both cranky and he had been sleeping in all day while I dealt with them, so it just bummed me out to be told to stay back. Also I am an adult so it felt belittling. He told me no worries it’ll be quick and they will go to the store for whatever I need so that I can make dinner. I often make dinner so for some reason that irked me that he said that. I told him I don’t need anything at the store and don’t feel like making dinner tonight, that I just wanted to get out of the house. He told me sarcastically that I can take the babies outside in the rain (it started raining) if I want fresh air so bad. I then brought up how yesterday he told me he is going to “let me drive” our car because he didn’t feel like driving us home from his Dr apt. Petty but I mentioned that as an example of feeling constantly bossed around and not cool so I said that I would just appreciate him working on not bossing me around and consulting me about stuff even small stuff like this rather than making decisions on my behalf like I’m a child. He told me I’m being unreasonable and that this is coming out of nowhere. I said this is not coming out of nowhere and mentioned that I’m irritated to be an adult not even allowed to drive our car or get out for running errands to relieve my head when the babies are screaming (he holds the keys). He got pissy and said I’m holding him up so I said whatever just go, I’m not mad I’m just disappointed and would like to revisit this conversation later. He got salty saying I’m being a bitch about it that it’s just the hardware store and I must be hormonal. I got irritated saying again that I’m just irked that he’s dismissing what I’m saying and just don’t tell me what to do that I don’t like the way he spoke to me and don’t like how he has been speaking to me and that his attitude feels controlling: that’s all He stormed out the door yelling that I’m being a hormonal bitch. AITA for then texting him that there’s no need to yell at me and if he plans to talk shit about me to his friend(which he often does) that that’s lame?! He came back and we had the same redundant argument before he stormed out again.

In and around Sacramento, within an hour's drive or less.
Ideal scenario: Apply for the license and get married same day, same place. Civil ceremony at a historic courthouse. Said courthouse is walking distance to other interesting site(s) (garden, nice hotel, bridge, surprise me - we like weird and unusual too) and photographer hangs w us for another 2 hours after ceremony. We finish up eating cake and drinking champagne at nice restaurant or cute bakery.
Any surrounding counties w beautiful courthouses and cooperative staff that will marry us outside vs. in a fluorescent lit wedding ceremony room?
Any b&bs that offer packages that include everything or offer a la carte options?
Recs on planners that can make this happen? Mid summer, we're flexible w dates. --- yes, I know it's going to be blazing hot.
What's important to us is the intimacy and "realness" of the day. Not having to drive from A to B to C to D or reserve a formal wedding venue. We want it to feel like and look like what it is: we are there for a work trip and decided to stay an extra day or two and get married.

I love everything about this game. Artistically speaking it's true to Star Wars in every sense of the title and the devs expanded the story and combat in a near perfect fashion. One that feels like it's truly simulating a Jedi experience.
ALL THAT SAID this game is so utterly broken at times I am surprised all of my ps5 controllers are still intact.
I chose to explore Jeddha yesterday after work before finishing the final control center level at Koboh and I grinded through the parkour Force Tear in the flats, the Eno Cordova puzzles, all leftover collectibles, and all legendary boss fights before I called it a night. I rested at a meditation point and put ps5 in rest mode.
Try to imagine my frustration when I turn the game on, it puts me at the meditation point at which I left it, and I check the map to see every single collectible, rumor, and puzzle completely undone. Like I had never got on the game the day before. Jeddha is back to 75.9% explored. Is this some sort of sick joke? Is there a dev laughing at my anguish somewhere unseen? I feel as if I have suddenly become self-aware in the Truman Show that is my life.
I.. I need retribution. My anger is unquenchable. The dark side beckons.
Respawn underestimates my power.

Hey,
I recently got a new SIM Card from my provider (Vodafone Germany) which enables me to use the 5G Standalone (SA) band. Since I booked the option to use 5G+ (as they call it) I am having a hard time getting any signal. Only when I am near the confirmed location of the cell tower. When I leave my house and the WiFi drops, I literally have no signal on 5G until I get closer to the tower.
That though, wouldn't be a problem, if the P7P would actually TRY use the 5G NSA (Non-Standalone) or 4G network in these situations, because before I got the new SIM it was working just fine and I at least had a connection, or it simply switched to 4G+ instead.
But as of the SIM Card switch, it apparently won't even try to change from 5G SA anymore, at least not when I am as near to the cell tower as I am when I'm at home. It just shows the exclamation mark beside the completely empty network icon for a couple of seconds, before trying to get a connection again but then again resorting to the exclamation mark after some moments, which results in web pages only sporadically working, apps not loading and calls not coming in (WiFi Calling is a blessing now.). And it does that without even thinking of changing to a different network band at all. Only when I specifically choose to only use the 4G network I do have full reception, but that basically gets rid of a feature this phone has for me and that I pay for with the contract.
​
Is there any way to tell the P7P to actually at least consider choosing a different network band than 5G, because the automatic switch doesn't seem to kick in, at least where I am usually located at. Or should I just cancel the 5G+ option with my carrier to get back to using 5G NSA only?

I know this sounds crazy. Shut up. I get it. I’ve heard it all before: “what are you talking about?” “You’re insane.” “This is why you shouldn’t do molly before your brain finishes developing.” My friends don’t believe me. My parents don’t believe me. My therapist doesn’t believe me. And I don’t blame them. I didn’t believe me either, at first. Maybe I still don’t. There’s no moral here; this isn’t some cautionary tale about the importance of keeping clean. If it were, it’d be the sickest, most twisted way to teach someone to fold their stupid clothes.
I normally fold my laundry. I do. I’m not a slob! I hate walking into my bedroom and seeing clothes on the floor. I hate it, seriously! I don’t believe in it, don’t subscribe to it, and don’t condone it. The floor could be as clean as a freshly zamboni’d ice rink, but the second my clothes touch it they instantly get dirty – coated in lint, dust, and grime that latch onto my shirts and underwear like leeches.
But no one’s perfect. I’m not an idiot, ok? I’m a realist. I’m an adult. I slip up sometimes. A bit of depression here, a dash of anxiety there, and suddenly I don’t feel like folding that huge lump of clothes the exact second the dryer vomits them out. In those cases, I put the pile on my desk chair, and I wait a few days. I go to work, I run my errands, I wash my face, and, whatever – you get the gist. Eventually, I work up the courage to square up to that foul fabric beast and tear it apart, devoting twenty minutes to folding and putting away every single piece of clothing until my room is back to its normal, serene state. This cycle is a perfectly normal part of the monotonous yet inconsistent ebb and flow that is adulthood, and I’m not going to put myself on trial for occasionally succumbing to it. Well, the last load of laundry I did was a particularly big one. Massive, actually. So big I thought the washing machine drum would break off its axle, spin out into my kitchen, and crash through a wall. After the clothes dried, I let them sit in the machine for a few days because taking them out proved too daunting a task (and yes, I opened the dryer door a bit so the clothes could air out. I’m not an idiot).
Eventually, I worked up the courage to extract the atrocious textile pile and take it to my room for folding. The pile was too big and too heavy to fit on my chair, so I threw it on the ground. I know, I know – I’m wincing at the thought. But I had too. It was enormous. At the time, folding felt like too herculean a task to do in that moment. So I waited a day. And another day. And another. I went to work, I ran my errands, I washed my face. By then, a week had gone by, and the pile was still there, on the floor at the foot of my bed. I went to bed that night promising myself I would deal with it in the morning.
Well, girls and boys, I didn’t deal with it. That day I did nothing; I did nothing but go to work, run my errands, and wash my face. And that evening I opened a beer, plopped my ass on the couch, and watched “New Girl.” I hate that show. I despise that show. But I watch reruns when my body is tired but my mind is awake; when I need something to dull my brain until it meets my body halfway on that miserable road to exhaustion.
When I crawled into bed that night, the laundry pile was still there, obviously. A sock was sticking out and touching the foot of my bed. It was funny, though, because I didn’t remember the pile physically touching my bed the night before. But who really remembers things like that, anyway? I figured the pile must have come apart a bit due to vibrations in the floor when I walked -- gravity, or something. It was a bulbous, globular, uneven stack of clothes, for fuck’s sake. I know this sounds silly – it’s just that my first thought when I saw the pile had shifted slightly towards my bed wasn’t that it was actively moving towards me.
I have bad dreams often, but that night’s was especially bad. I dreamt I stepped into an enormous bowl of pancake batter and couldn’t get out. I sunk into the batter, slowly, tortuously, inch by inch, until the beige mass globbed onto my face. Just as it covered my eyes and stuck them shut, I suddenly woke up with a shooting pain in my foot. The pain was almost indescribable: a burning, almost acidic sensation. It subsided immediately the moment I woke up and drew my legs up to my chest, curling into the fetal position and rubbing my foot until my mind coaxed itself to sleep. When I woke up that morning, my thoughts returned to that brief pain in my foot. I almost couldn’t even remember if it had been a dream or not. Until I looked at my foot. The top half of my left sole was a patchy red color. I grabbed hold of the foot and held it up as close to my face as my inflexible body could manage. My brow furrowed in disgust. I had the same expression in my face as when I was sixteen and riddled with acne and would pop an innocuous-looking zit, only for it to erupt and bukkake my mirror with an egregious quantity of pus. My disgust, however, then morphed into an acute sense of unease. Because there, in the center of this rosy patch on my foot, were four small indentations. They were deep in my skin, as far as you can press down on flesh before drawing blood. Each mark was parallel to the other. Bite marks.
I looked at my foot, then at the foot of my bed (no pun intended), where the pile of laundry sat. Then back at my foot. Then back at the pile. Something about it was different now. I swear it, suddenly it looked a bit more ominous, more looming, more… big. Yes, it was bigger. It had taken on a new color, too. A pair of jeans, my rainbow socks, and a Grand Theft Auto 5 T-shirt that I hadn’t seen before on the top of the pile were now sticking out, looking right at me. It’s strange; you don’t expect a pile of clothes to activate your fight or flight response, but looking back on that moment now, even if my conscience didn’t register it at the time, I was afraid.
I got up, got dressed with whatever clothes remained in my closet away from the pile (not much), and shut my bedroom door. I went to work that day, I ran errands, I washed my face. I went home. I changed clothes. As I changed, I stared at the pile. Now there wasn’t just a single sock touching the foot of the bed – now many, many socks were pressed against it, reaching out like little white hands of cotton. In fact, the whole pile seemed to be pushing its weight against my bed. But, like I said earlier, this was not something I consciously decided to worry about in that moment. It’s a pile of laundry, for fuck’s sake. I walked into the living room and shut the door behind me. I decided then that that night I would finally dismantle the pile and fold each and every piece of clothing. But not right then. My buddy Sam was coming over any second to have a beer and watch “New Girl.”
He got to my place twenty minutes later than he was supposed to, and when I opened the door four little legs trotted in with him. “This is Clarence!” he said with that bizarrely prideful tone in his voice that new dog owners sometimes have. It’s the same tone new mothers have, but since, as far as I know, humans are not physically capable of giving birth to chihuahuas, the tone in this case is always completely unwarranted. But I digress -- I was a little pissed, to say the least. Sam hadn’t asked if it was ok to bring Clarence. We were about five minutes into a random episode I had rouletted from season three when Clarence started yapping. I peeled my eyes off the screen and suddenly realized he wasn’t on the couch with us anymore. Indeed, he was standing right in front of my closed bedroom door, howling into the air and clawing at the wood. “Yo, Clare! Shut up!” Sam yelled as he paused the TV and sauntered over to Clarence. My first thought was Is "Clare" really a nickname for Clarence? My second thought was Oh my god. Do not let Clarence into that room.
“NO!” I blurted out.
“Huh?” Sam grunted as he turned to look at me with that big stupid face of his. Clarence kept barking.
“You… you can’t go in there,” I stammered. “It’s messy.” I straightened myself up.
Sam scoffed. “You got dead bodies in there or something?” He looked at Clarence, who refused to let up. “Something’s bothering him.”
“I can see that, but –“
Sam laughed, put his hand on the knob and started to turn.
“NO!” I screamed again. Clarence stopped barking that time. Sam took his hand off the knob.
“I told you. Don’t go in my room,” I chided.
“Dude. You… you don’t actually have dead bodies in there, do you?” Sam asked as his smile gradually disappeared.
I sighed. “Jesus Christ. Of course not! It… it’s just messy. Super messy. Like, so messy. It’s embarrassed.”
“OK. But now I feel like, as your friend, I have a responsibility to check. Just to make sure…”
“OK, well, I told you, you can’t go into my room.”
“… just to make sure you don’t have any dead bodies in there.”
“I DON’T HAVE ANY DEAD FUCKING BODIES IN MY ROOM!” My face went purple with rage.
“Well now you’re reacting as if you have a dead body in your room.” I sighed and rubbed my forehead. He had a point. “Ok. You can look inside… just… can you pick Clarence up first?”
Sam looked at me weirdly, but then quickly accepted this one condition and picked the little hairy sausage up. He grabbed the knob and turned. I held my breath as he looked inside.
“Oh my god. Dude. What the shit?”
“What? What?” I raced to the door and peered inside. The room was more or less the same as it had been that morning. Well, except for the laundry pile had…
“You should really fold your laundry, dude.”
… doubled in size. It was massive, over half the height of the room now, spilling across my bed. I started to shake. How was this happening? What was happening? There were more clothes in the pile now than I had ever owned in my entire life. And, I suddenly realized, I was no longer able to recognize the clothes themselves. While before I could clearly identify individual pieces within the pile – my red plaid boxers, my cargo shorts, a lone Nike sock – the mass now took on an abstract and mind-boggling shape. It was as if the clothes had stretched, twisted, even fused themselves together. Clashing colors bled into each other like watercolors. Disparate textures met at messy seams like some sort of scratchy, monstrous quilt.
Sam, clearly not understanding the apparent danger of this… this thing in my room, took a step forward.
“NO!” I blurted out. I said that a lot that night. And I would say it again soon.
“What is going on with you, man?” A condescending smile curled over that idiot’s lips. I couldn’t even begin to tell him. It was all too ridiculous. And yet, I had never been so terrified.
“Do you wanna go on a walk? Let’s go on a walk.”
“Huh?” Sam said with that stupid, stupid face of his cocked at such a severe angle it looked like his neck would snap in half.
My eyes turned to Clarence, who was still in Sam’s clutches and staring at the pile with wide, terrified eyes. “He hasn’t peed in a while. Let’s take him outside! Let’s take him for a walk!” I pleaded.
Sam looked at Clarence, who didn’t even register his dear owner’s gaze. His eyes were locked on the pile. He was trembling.
“Eh. He’s fine! You really should fold your laundry, though. I’ll help.” He walked towards the pile.
“NO!”
“OK, can you calm the actual fuck down, dude?” He turned to me again. Clarence squirmed in his arms. He whimpered and gnawed at the air, his little black eyes as if pleading, "let me down. Let me go."
“What the fuck, Clare?” Clarence managed to wiggle his way out of Sam’s grasp and hit the floor like a billiard ball. Immediately he twisted himself onto his feet and scurried out of the room.
“Maybe he does have to pee,” Sam wondered aloud. I sighed with relief.
“Yes! Let’s go!”
“But first we gotta deal with this.” He turned back to the pile.
“Later, Sam. Please.”
“Nah, bro. This is insane. It’s one thing to put off chores for a couple days, but this… this is mental illness,” He crouched down, right next to the pile, and reached out. “I can’t let you live like this -- ”
Then there was movement. A flash of color. A sudden jerk. A lunge. Of polyester and cotton and wool and linen. A brief yelp -- “oh!”-- managed to escape Sam’s lips just before the pile swallowed him whole.
I stood there like an idiot, frozen in terror as the pile contorted and undulated with Sam inside, re-arranging his big body like a snake swallowing a deer. The most vile and disturbing sounds I’ve ever heard accompanied Sam’s muted screams from inside: tearing, crunching, dissolving, guzzling. Sam let out one final blood-curdling scream before a nauseating POP rang out and everything went quiet. The pile was still now. A putrid smell filled the air, like the smell of raw chicken left out to rot on a hot concrete patio. Death.
Then, right before my eyes, the pile began to grow, metastasizing with new lumps of fabric sprouting in all directions. The smell got thicker and heavier with each inch the pile grew. It wasn’t until it reached the ceiling that I was able to rouse myself from my shock and I turned and ran out of the room. I grabbed Clarence, who had been scratching pathetically at my front door in a desperate bid to escape, and fled my apartment. I ran down the street. I ran down the block. I just ran. I ran for hours, in no particular direction, with Clarence in my arms.
It’s been two weeks. I’m writing this now from a motel room. I don’t know what motel it is. I ran into the first one I came across and haven’t left since. Clarence is fast asleep on the bed. He’s ugly and annoying, but I’ve found myself yelling “Clare!” when I want to get his attention. I haven’t been back to my apartment since that day. I’m never going back. I don’t want to know what’s in there, how much bigger it’s become.
I’m still wearing the same clothes from that day. My shirt and pants are heavy with sweat. I smell like shit. But it’s fine because I’m not changing my clothes. I’m not cleaning my clothes, either. Maybe I will, one day. Not for a long time, though. And if I do ever get around to it, I swear to God -- I’m folding them immediately.

So I am selling a completely custom designed clone hero guitar on Etsy, and whenever someone buys my guitar, I get an automated email stating:
"This is an automated notice from Etsy's Content Moderation team. Our system has deactivated one or more of your listings as potential drug paraphernalia, which is prohibited on Etsy under our Prohibited Items Policy."
What I am selling is clearly not drug paraphernalia. It's a guitar controller. Yesterday my listing was reinstated as I am assuming it got reviewed, and when someone bought another one today, I got the same email again with the same message about "possible drug paraphernalia."
So, the first time I contacted Etsy support, they simply told me to just look at their policies. I contacted them again on the same ticket asking why it had happened again, and this time they told me:
"If you’re reaching out to Etsy Support for more information about a listing we removed from your shop due to a violation of our Seller Policies, please refer back to our previous reply and make sure to review what can be sold on Etsy.
Our support agents can’t reinstate your listing, and our decision on this matter remains final.
We won’t respond to further emails about this, but if you have a different question, we’re happy to assist! Please create a new support request instead of replying here so we don't miss your question."
​
I feel like I can't get anywhere with Etsy's online support system and of course they don't have a customer service phone number. What am I supposed to do?

Context: I'm 25 years old, transfem, I work in a factory on 2nd shift. It pays ok but I hate the work. I'm ontime , do what I can to do the job. There is a few things I feel like I just don't want to do or memorize. I just don't care I get the job done regardless, Idgaf. I don't feel like myself when I'm there I'm s zombie or just a machine. I feel like the walls are closing in on me slowly and I'm stuck.
I want to get away from this somehow, I have had things I've started briefly or mulled over in thought. Nothing ever seems to stick or I commit for like a few weeks then I get hung up with lack of knowledge, self belief and don't want to waste time.
Things like: wanting to start a business, trying to stream and make content, programing , learning another language or just thinking of going to higher education. It's like I can focus but have some kind if commitment issue, with a tinge of self hatred for giving up.
I don't really know what to do , like what do I REALLY commit my efforts to without my negitive self getting in the way?

One needs to learn whom to trust and how to deal with different kinds of people. I feel the people who's company I'm in are equally as naive as me. There's been a drastic change of my social environment. I wish I was better equipped with these skills, right from college.
Now there's a repurcussion for every thing I do or not. Shitty coworkers make getting through the day even more difficult. And there's no way I can stay away from them either without coming off as having a lot of 'ego'. When I attempt to try to talk to them nicely they decide to answer in such a way that I feel I hadn't initiated it in the first place.
I just want to finish an year in this place as soon as possible, with the least amount of interaction with some people and move from this place.

Drawing, illustration is dead. But it didn't die yesterday, it's not something that happened with the advent of AI. It is a phenomenon that has been around for some time, for at least a decade now.
It all started around 2008. 2008 was a year of great development for the internet in general, I personally have the perception that the web became mainstream around that time, especially thanks to the various social platforms which at the time were still crawling.
Now, without long rounds of words, the death of art is the fault of social media and capitalism. Very original thought I am aware. But the discussion obviously doesn’t end here. As I have been saying for a couple of years now, social platforms have betrayed their initial mission, there is no longer sincere sharing and publishing things on the net, especially for artists, has backfired. The internet is no longer a place where self expression makes sense, right now we find ourselves inside a monumental manger for AI companies and advertisers. These companies are straight evil, black or white, there is no shade of gray, basically Netslé if it was a tech company. They not only feed on our content but apparently now they aim to replace it. Call me a conspiracy theorist, luddite, do as you please. This whole story is just plain wrong. I could write long paragraphs to give you the impression that I have a little awareness or a deeper thought on the subject but that's not what I'm here for. I want to talk about the death of art.
When I say that art is dead I don't really mean it, the same goes for the internet and social networks, I am critical of these two things but there is no doubt that they have given us so much. The point of my speech is only one: saturation.
We are drowning in talent, there are too many masterpieces out there, it is full of people who are incredibly capable of creating entertainment of all types and for all tastes. Books, movies, comics, cartoons, video games. A single life is not enough to enjoy all the beauty of these infinite parallel worlds. But what role does drawing play in all of this? The greatest of masterpieces today is consumed with a speed not worthy of its quality.
What I mean is try to think of the most iconic video game released since 2010, the one that has generated the most reactions from the general public. Two video games come to mind: Minecraft and Undertale. I have to confess one thing to you, I'm not a big fan of these two, they are definitely close to my personal top 20 but there is a lot of stuff that I liked more. However, it’s impossible to not recognize their value, the impact that they had in videogame sub-culture.
Now, let's stop for a second on Undertale. You know Undertale's art style, right? It's iconic, but to call it inspired is perhaps a bit of an overstatement. It is certainly different and genuine and it is precisely this simplicity that has made it enter the hearts of many people. In addition to the incredible soundtrack of course. In the end, it's really true that graphics only count for a few, what counts is the artistic direction but even above are the ideas and the way they are applied.
I want to give you as an example a youtube channel that has recently exploded. It's called Monstergarden.
https://youtu.be/cwCV1opXBv8
He is a guy who deals with fantasy and worldbuilding. If you take a look at his content you will quickly understand what it means to know how to use your imagination well. It's not just the drawing that brings you the numbers that his channel has raised in less than a month.
So drawing is useless? For me yes, in part. A poorly drawn comic with a good story, I can follow it (basically the original One Punch Man webcomic), but bad story and good drawing... eehhh When I say drawing is useless try to think about how much time you spend looking at a single drawing on the internet, a few seconds most of the time, at least that's true to me. Usually I stop for more time in front of a drawing when I read a comics… or porn (I'm a simple man).
As an artist, I occasionally get lost in my drawings, staring at them for several minutes. It's kind of sad to think that there will probably never be anyone who will spend at least half the time I spent looking at my stuff. In a way, I'm my own #1 fan, sounds a bit depressing I know. I think this doesn't just apply to me, it's my opinion but I think there are many of us in this boat. When I was younger I drew to show others that I was good at it, now that I've grown up a bit I do what I do just because I feel like it. I gave up on social media, now I'm only dedicating myself to my story. I draw and write because I feel that inside me there is something that needs to come out and if I don't I feel sad, it's practically like going to the bathroom.
Speaking of AI, about a year ago I was scared, now I no longer see AI as an "invincible rival". I filled my eyes with Ai art, but there was nothing vaguely worthy of memory. Huge quantity, lack of originality. Ai art has become synonymous with the word anonymous, it’s mid as fuck, once the eye gets used to it… there’s nothing more. The only thing I found genuinely interesting are the AI generated commercials, those are very interesting and worthy to be called art, but it is just a happy atoll in the middle of a flat sea.
Do you know why I like reading comics like Scott Pilgrim? As you flip through the pages you can see the author's style evolves volume by volume. We start with volume 1 which is done in a certain way and then we get to 7, a completely different thing. The same goes for an average art profile on Instagram, how cool it is to scroll down to see how the new stuff is different from the old stuff.
With AI art there is none of this, lately I've been treating it like the spam emails in my inbox. It's an algorithmic cancer, visual pollution that I have to filter out to be able to look at the real stuff, the stuff created by people. From the finest of painting to the questionable sonic fanart. I hate Ai art, but this feeling of mine isn't driven by envy as it could have been a year ago. It's a different kind of hate, like when you step on dog shit on the street. I can’t take a little walk anymore down my favorite alleys, this shit is everywhere, I am unable to fully enjoy art spaces like Art Station, the spaces that must belong to real artists not to a horny redditor who spends his days churning out disproportionate asian girls.
(Sorry for any grammatical errors, English is not my first language)

I started around 350 and really took it serious when I got back from Mexico (around 325.1). Which was Jan 25th. Finished May at 274.4 and plan to get to <265 end of this month.
It's been a lot of trial and error. But changing my lifestyle and making small changes has helped a ton. Sometimes it feels like there's been little progress but I have had a ton of NSV. Compliments, feeling better and more energized. Having higher confidence and dropping 2 sizes in shirts and 4 in pant sizes.
My biggest struggles have been I stay occasionally let my sweet tooth get the best of me and it will lead to me over indulging way to much and losing my calorie deficit and of course weekends. To be exact moderating my drinking.
But I plan to turn up the notch as I'm excited for the progress to come with the next 30-50 pounds to come off.
I plan to get to 250 towards end of summer and then my next milestone will be 225 (fall ish) and ideally I'll be in the low 200s by the end of the year.
Making this post to share my progress but also love how helpful this subreddit has been.

Background info: I have a tenant in one of my units who was good for about 6 months then stopped paying and became very hostile in their texts regarding payments etc. etc. My paralegal was dealing with it and we had been through an LTB hearing with another scheduled for who knows when.
Current problem: It has been nearly a year now without a rent payment and just a few days ago the condo emailed me saying the unit has a foul odor coming from it. I provided 24 hour notice for entry via email, text, and a letter left at the door of the unit. I went today and the letter was taken, the unit was unlocked, the unit is completely empty aside from one bedroom which has a bed and clothes everywhere. The smoke detectors are all taken out, the toilets smell like sewage from not being used, there is some food in the fridge, a bottle of alcohol on the counter and some fruit that is relatively fresh as well. Clearly someone is living there, but I suspect it is not the tenant as all their furnishings that were there are gone, the building hasn’t been able to contact them, and they have not been seen by concierge in a few months.
My question: what is the law regarding a potential squattetrespasser? The condo management have let me know they want to help anyway they can because of course they don’t want someone not registered to the unit/building living there. I can of course get an accelerated hearing date with my evidence and the condo’s word, but I want to know if there is a way to get a visit by the police or if condo security is authorized to remove the current occupant if they aren’t registered to the building?
Thanks!

We haven't had sex for almost 2-3 months now. We've been together for 2 years and as time goes by, our sex has been becoming less and less. I think it has something to do with my weight gain but he says it's not.
I know for sure that it's not his libido since he still masturbates. And it's also not because of me quitting my bc pills since we've done it before.
I tried dressing sexy for him, iniatiating, to just literally ask. He just says he's not in the mood.
I don't wanna make myself sadder than i already am but what the heck do I do to pleasure myself lol.