Love me 3 film

Any discussion of love stories has to start with Romeo and Juliet, and a list of love themes is no different. Zefferelli’s production was renowned for many things, but even in the film’s ... Love Film complet sous-titrée en français Love Full Movie subtitled in German Love volledige film ondertiteld in het Nederlands Love Full movie subtitled in Portuguese Love Filme completo com legendas em Português. Report. Browse more videos. Playing next. 38:15. As I watched their preety man2 and I liked their chemistry, So with this reason I decided to watch this drama. Drama start with good story but after the death of male lead's character's father the drama getting bored ,the male lead showed same expressions all the time ,sad and hatred and even he had some happy moments still it felt like it wasfake ,he is not able to show his expressions openly . Love Me As I Am. 2013 TV-PG 3 Seasons International TV Shows. After wealthy college boy Ömer and lower class college girl Aysem fall in love and quickly marry, they learn that love and life aren't always perfect. Starring: Alper Saldıran, Zeynep Çamcı, Burcu Altın. Watch all you want for free. When I Was the Most Beautiful (2020) Episode 17-18. Flower of Evil (2020) Episode 15. Count Your Lucky Stars (2020) Episode 28 Pei You You (Xu Xiao Nuo) is a young woman with dreams. A talented nail artist, she has a solid client base and a good career. With hard work and dedication, she is well on her way to achieving her ultimate dream, the dream of someday owning her own house. But life takes an unexpected turn the day Yi Han (Zhang Yu Jian) comes crashing into her life. One of the country’s top stars, Yi Han is ... Directed by Danny Hiller. With Andrew Howard, Geoff Bell, Alex Reid, Camille Coduri. As the result of an armed robbery Mickey Ronson has served eight years in prison, leaving his wife Gemma and their child Lucy to cope on their own. As the time of Mickey's release draws near he can't wait to get back to his family and continue on with their lives. Directed by Rick Bota. With Lindsey Shaw, Jamie Johnston, Jean-Luc Bilodeau, Kaitlyn Leeb. Sixteen-year-old Melissa Kennedy's been missing for almost 3 months now and the Town of Ridgedale is coming unhinged. The projectionist at the old revival movie house, Sylvia Potter (16) wants so badly to be in love. Just like in the movies. But can any guy live up to her ideal leading man? LOVE is a short film describing affection in 3 different chapters, through an impact on a distant solar system. LOVE is this week's Staff Pick Premiere! Read… From deep love stories to light RomComs, these romantic movies are ready and waiting. Netflix Netflix. UNLIMITED TV SHOWS & MOVIES. TRY 30 DAYS FREE SIGN IN. Romantic Movies. Can you feel the love tonight? You better believe it. From deep love stories to light RomComs, these romantic movies are ready and waiting.

Call Me By Your Name

2017.06.28 03:00 parrott96 Call Me By Your Name

A place to celebrate and discuss Call Me By Your Name--the novel by Andre Aciman and the film by Luca Guadagnino
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2011.05.17 17:49 Brie Larson

[link]


2016.04.13 22:39 no_turn_unstoned WELCOME TO THE_PACK

THIS IS THE PACK WE'RE FUCKEN BAD ASS AND WE MAKE BOMBASS MEMES!!!!! CUM CRANK YOU'RE HOG IN ARE DISCORD MFER WWW.DISCORD.GG/THEPACK !!!!!!!!!
[link]


2020.09.28 06:32 JoeyFerguson Silent Hill film it's one of the best video game movies of all time, so I did an entire Reddit account to share my thoughts. (Spoiler Free)

https://preview.redd.it/fo6grp7zhtp51.png?width=797&format=png&auto=webp&s=0f9c3a8bc5f7ab106edec75cca8efd3d932882d6
Silent Hill film really deserves more praise over what was achieved by all it's team. The movie has an incredible atmosphere with eerie and uncanny visuals and feelings. As a fan of the series with most favourites in the first four games I wanted to share my thoughts of this film and wanted to explain why I think it's even better than most video games films these days. So, without furder ado, let's go!:

  1. — It's not that different from it's source material:
I know, monsters where so out of control because they don't belong to the primary source material, the first game. Unfortunately, most of the mosnters' symbolism wasn't included in this movie. According to the wikia, they can be interpreted as their own as "Alessa's feelings and needs", such as Red Pyramid being her father figure and kind of guardian, and nurses who have no faces to represent her sadness of never get to be a beautiful woman. But getting that aside, the atmosphere is stupidly uncanny, all the rust, bloody surfaces and dark spaces are so incredibly well done, alongside the fog world. Yeah, probably the "misty cgi" doesn't look too well nowdays but it still look nice. Ashes were (IMHO) better than snow, represent more of a fire and the pain of being burned than snow. All this world made out of rotten materials and painful feelings was so good into the film. It doesn't dissapoint when you're looking for an accurate depiction of the nightmare that lives inside this West Virginia town.
On pair with other video games adaptations make Silent Hill stand out alone and strong. We've had other disasters (although I like a couple of those) that completely destroyed their source materials, such as: Alone in The Dark, Street Fighter, Mario Bros, Max Payne, and partly Resident Evil (only series I like). And this because the director, Christophe Gans was an actual fan of Silent Hill, but we'll handle that later.

2.— Visual Effects:
We all know a film needs good VFX to really have an immersive effect among the audience and Silent Hill has some awesome practical effects. Watching this films' monsters create an absolutely convincing effect that makes you belive what you see on screen actually may be real. From the armless man to Red Pyramid the effects are absolutely belivable, it's a movie that uses less tan 500 CGI VFX for it. The town was made partly on a sound stage and partly on a real abandoned town in Canada, where they shoot the town areas with a bit of real mist and rubbish on the streets. Cloudy days were also used to have this "white" atmosphere in the fog world.
Other game films are filled with ugly CGI and over the top effects that end looking up disgusting, Alone in The Dark has this "plastic" looking scenario with parody film feeling. Resident Evil has this bad CGI choice in those later films, while SH doesn't (at least the first part).
And let's not forget about gore! Although Silent Hill games weren't that gory, this film had a bit of it (probably too much) that looked really convincing. Most of blood on other audiovisual media looks really plastic and not too real (opinion from a person who has nosebleeding problems) whilst SH looks really nice and realistic.

3.— Acting:
For a film, casting is always crucial. So what the team did (and mostly Christophe) was to choose independant actors. This makes actors have a "no signiature" way of acting, and thus making them act more naturally. Rhada Mitchell's role as a mother is outstanding, making her act like a real lion mother, she wants to protect her daughter at all cost, and wants to solve the town's mistery. Harry Mason would be proud. Then we have Laurie Holden as Cybil Bennett, a golden hearted cop who wanted to prevent a horrible crime (she was wrong though) and sadly ended inside this nightmarish world of monsters. She delivered an awesome performance, of being creeped out and angry towards the events. Sean Bean as a... um... well, he doesn't die and has a bit of a dick role but he just wanted answers, but has a good acting overall. The only downside to this would be Jodelle Ferland's performance which wasn't that good, but Christophe liked her performance because she did a nice job as Dark Alessa.
This is a manouver that gives a lot of points to this film, since Mario Bros had some really awful performances for example.
And also, people running in this film is everything, it's awesome how slow do actors run on horror films and here they do as if their lives depend on it.

4.— It's a TRUE horror film:
Being honest, I haven't seen other Christophe film aside from this, but I've seen he does (according to various sources) very good horror movies and it shows. This film has some great shots, some long and others short, creating a continuous feeling of fear and discomfort. All creatures are showed naturally, no jumpscares or flashing scenes where you don't know what the hell is going on. It really captures the game's pacing with those shots.

5.— It came when video games films where REALLY BAD:
As said before, video game films were AWFUL!! to the point were fans were afraid of their favourite franchises getting butchered on screen by people who misundertood completely the note of the games. Making Mushroom Kingdom a cyberpunk city full of monstrous creatures certainly was really stupid and making a survival horror experience with monsters (AITD) or zombies (RE) action packed flicks was more than enough to make a fan angry. And there's where Christophe makes his entrance as a point: he was a true fan of Silent Hill. (And also, this merges other points)
He brought a PS to the studio to actually show how the game was and what to make out of it. Spent 5 years trying to convince Konami to let him make a Silent Hill film and when they accepted, asked for a short film of it to see how would it be and out of his own budget, he managed to SURPRISE the executives to trust him with such a complicated project. He wanted to transfer the best of this series to a non expert audience (film viewers who never played) and to fans. That's why Akira Yamaoka's marvelous score is present in this film and not any score made by any composer who never looked at Silent Hill. He actually deserves more credit for this (and he is making a remake of the film!).
He wanted to make a sequel but sadly it got scrapped since the first film screenwriter was sentenced to prision and in November 2009, Don Carmody told Shock Till You Drop that Christophe Gans was unlikely to return for the sequel, and that they were going to make the sequel "more accessible to a wider audience" which led to a pretty bad film that doesn't represent at it's best what Silent Hill is.
This is easily comparable to Mortal Kombat first film, those two came when video games films where really bad.

There's plenty good to say about it, but for good things, there has to be some bad things too: for example, the main plot it's a bit dumb... the game has a really complex one that's full of twists and, in contrast, the film's plot is really simple and it makes it weird to exist. It's not AWFUL by any means and it's enjoyable overall, does provided some game plot too (basically the main plot of the game was kept). It's a bit too long, has a nice and powerful start and a good climax, but after the second siren it's just a bit meh. Some characters are really disposable and a bit unnecesary (not monsters). Also, some of the original Team Silent wasn't too happy with some film decissions, such as Masahiro Ito being really upset with the character of Pyramid Head and how he just wanted him to be just for James. But mr. Ito! Your marvelous character represents Silent Hill as its own trademark and it's considered as the most unsettling, disgusting and terrifying character ever created! and this movie made me feel TERRIFIED of going into darkness and find him standing still on my kitchen.

Silent Hill Revelation is bad in comparison, since it looses most of it's team for a more "action packed" film and it's really sad, because that film follows SH3 plot and does it... not too well but it's fine. Sadly wasn't enough to save it.

But at the end of the day it's one of the best video games movies out there, on pair with Mortal Kombat. You should give it a try!

To end, I want to say that this film was the one that introduced me into the Silent Hill universe and made me fall in love with it, to a point where my life wouldn't be the same. There are some bad games and some awesome ones, thrilling stories and some boring ones and it's all awesome, a great lore to enjoy. This film gave me nightmares and I couldn't sleep for 2 weeks! and the same with games, Silent Hill 3 is... something that you likely wouldn't play alone or with lights off. I wouldn't have enjoyed this lore and this universe if it weren't for the great effort that the team made for the audience, it's truly a love letter to Team Silent's marvelous creation.

AND THANK GOD AND VALTIEL THIS FILM WASN'T ON UWE BOLL'S MIND!!!
submitted by JoeyFerguson to videogames [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 06:31 viewtoathrill Every available narrative Kurosawa film ranked

I watched Sanshiro Sugata on May 7th and am writing this after finishing Madadayo on September 27th. These 4 months I have been fortunate enough to witness storytelling that will likely never be matched. I may find individual movies I prefer, from other directors, for a variety of reasons, but I struggle to imagine a better storyteller or developer of character depth then Director Kurosawa.
Akira Kurosawa is a man of art, literature and theater that happens to have found a career making movies. His movies, like all great art, are filtered through his personal experience and seem to oscillate between unbridled optimism in humanity and unconquerable cynicism. He had, to me, four distinct phases in his career. The six films made in and around WWII, the 17 films in the prime of his career, four (Do’deska-den through Ran) that represent his attempt to force his way through all of the adversity present away from the camera and then his final three where he accepted his career was nearly over and he made some quiet, contemplative personal stories.
This ranking will most likely change my second time through his catalog, but it will be awhile before I get to that so I will leave this up here for now and welcome any and all thoughts / concerns for my sanity / debate.
  1. Rashomon (1950) - The creativity and inventiveness in storytelling technique as well as the acting performances put this over the top for me.
  2. Ikiru (1952) - Has there ever been a character-driven story that has you cheering for the protagonist more than in this film?
  3. Seven Samurai (1954) - One of the most fun and interesting stories ever put to celluloid.
  4. Sanjuro (1962) - Kurosawa at his funniest. That’s it, I ranked this so high because of how often and hard I laughed. Way underrated film from AK.
  5. The Hidden Fortress (1958) - Just a hair under Seven Samurai but still one of the better studio films I have ever seen in terms of action, humor and ability to hook me in.
  6. The Bad Sleep Well (1960) - A cynical film but flawlessly executed. Masayuki Mori’s performance as the patriarch and empathetic super-villain hooked me in.
  7. Madadayo (1993) - Kurosawa’s swan song muscled it’s way into this spot for me because of the immense amount of heart, love and respect between the characters and I felt great watching it.
  8. Yojimbo (1961) - The fact that a film of this quality is my 8th favorite from a director speaks only to the quality of his work and says nothing to a lack of quality in the film. It’s hilarious, engaging and perfectly executed.
  9. Dersu Uzala (1975) - Much like Madadayo, this film lands in the Top 10 for me because of heart. He created a memorable character in Dersu Uzala and the long running time flew by.
  10. Ran (1985) - Probably Kurosawa at his most ambitious and also my favorite visual film in his catalog. This is a melodramatic story - worthy of the bard himself - but extremely well made and the most obvious example of Kurosawa’s interest in painting.
  11. High and Low (1963) - My favorite of Kurosawa’s two police procedural films. Mifune was on full display here and the overall pacing and structure of this film was great.
  12. One Wonderful Sunday (1947) - A lot of people sh*t on this movie but I really loved it. For me it was Kurosawa a few years ahead of his time with a style that many of the French masters would perfect in about 15-20 years after this release. The New Wave stylings are all here, and the ending worked for me. Even if it was a bit overdone and heavy-handed, in 1947 I have to imagine it was new and interesting.
  13. Throne of Blood (1957) - Nothing inherently wrong here to have this come in 13th overall. I found myself objectively pointing out the strengths of this film as opposed to genuinely being connected to it so it slid down a few notches.
  14. Kagemusha (1980) - My favorite first 10-15 minutes of any Kurosawa film and my favorite soundtrack. This had potential to be my favorite overall film but, despite enjoying it, I did find myself checking my watch a time or two so it got moved down a bit. But, I still really enjoyed it.
  15. Sanshiro Sugata, Part Two (1945) - I had this ranked in the Top 5 for a long time. It is an incredibly straightforward story but I just love the character of Sanshiro and felt like it was fun to watch the original Rocky IV.
  16. The Quiet Duel (1949) - Ranked so high purely on the back of the performances of Mifune and Shimura. Also, I found myself in a very contemplative state as the theme of maturity and taking ownership hit me on a personal level.
  17. The Lower Depths (1957) - Probably some of Kurosawa’s most memorable characters and a true ensemble picture. This is a very well made film but I struggled with the cynicism.
  18. Sanshiro Sugata (1943) - A simple story told well and a strong performance from Susumu Fujita.
  19. Drunken Angel (1948) - There were parts of this film I really enjoyed but there was a bit of creative experimentation here that didn’t quite land for me and Kurosawa had not fully hit his stride.
  20. Stray Dog (1949) - I struggled with this dropping as far as it did everything said and done I just could not get behind the “why” of this policeman’s despair over losing his gun.
  21. Red Beard (1965) - A great film, well made, and way too dark and cynical for my taste.
  22. Dreams (1990) - Some great visuals and an interesting story but Kurosawa made many greater films than this over his career.
  23. Scandal (1950) - I have a feeling this might rank higher on a rewatch but I never quite got invested in the success of the characters here.
  24. The Men Who Tread on the Tiger’s Tail (1945) - I really enjoyed this borderline short film but it’s the equivalent of finding a tape from a famous artist before they got famous and really enjoying one of their cover songs. You can’t say an excellent cover is one of your favorite songs right?
  25. Rhapsody in August (1991) - Preachy and unfortunately not well told although it did have some sweet moments and still an engaging film.
  26. The Most Beautiful (1944) - A sweet film but still a strong propaganda vehicle at the end of the day and he made a lot better than this.
  27. The Idiot (1951) - A miss. I would love to see the rumored Director’s cut if it does in fact exist.
  28. Dodes’ke-den (1970) - I couldn’t tell if it was exploiting the poor just to have a compelling vehicle for a story but either way I did not overly enjoy this picture.
  29. I Live in Fear (1955) - Forgettable. I had to reread the plot of this film to even remember what to say about it.
  30. No Regrets for Our Youth (1946) - An attempt at a sweeping character epic that, for me, felt uncoordinated and disjointed. There were parts I enjoyed but nothing I loved.
submitted by viewtoathrill to movies [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 06:29 viewtoathrill Every Kurosawa available narrative film ranked

I watched Sanshiro Sugata on May 7th and am writing this after finishing Madadayo on September 27th. These 4 months I have been fortunate enough to witness storytelling that will likely never be matched. I may find individual movies I prefer, from other directors, for a variety of reasons, but I struggle to imagine a better storyteller or developer of character depth then Director Kurosawa.
Akira Kurosawa is a man of art, literature and theater that happens to have found a career making movies. His movies, like all great art, are filtered through his personal experience and seem to oscillate between unbridled optimism in humanity and unconquerable cynicism. He had, to me, four distinct phases in his career. The six films made in and around WWII, the 17 films in the prime of his career, four (Do’deska-den through Ran) that represent his attempt to force his way through all of the adversity present away from the camera and then his final three where he accepted his career was nearly over and he made some quiet, contemplative personal stories.
This ranking will most likely change my second time through his catalog, but it will be awhile before I get to that so I will leave this up here for now and welcome any and all thoughts / concerns for my sanity / debate.
  1. Rashomon (1950) - The creativity and inventiveness in storytelling technique as well as the acting performances put this over the top for me.
  2. Ikiru (1952) - Has there ever been a character-driven story that has you cheering for the protagonist more than in this film?
  3. Seven Samurai (1954) - One of the most fun and interesting stories ever put to celluloid.
  4. Sanjuro (1962) - Kurosawa at his funniest. That’s it, I ranked this so high because of how often and hard I laughed. Way underrated film from AK.
  5. The Hidden Fortress (1958) - Just a hair under Seven Samurai but still one of the better studio films I have ever seen in terms of action, humor and ability to hook me in.
  6. The Bad Sleep Well (1960) - A cynical film but flawlessly executed. Masayuki Mori’s performance as the patriarch and empathetic super-villain hooked me in.
  7. Madadayo (1993) - Kurosawa’s swan song muscled it’s way into this spot for me because of the immense amount of heart, love and respect between the characters and I felt great watching it.
  8. Yojimbo (1961) - The fact that a film of this quality is my 8th favorite from a director speaks only to the quality of his work and says nothing to a lack of quality in the film. It’s hilarious, engaging and perfectly executed.
  9. Dersu Uzala (1975) - Much like Madadayo, this film lands in the Top 10 for me because of heart. He created a memorable character in Dersu Uzala and the long running time flew by.
  10. Ran (1985) - Probably Kurosawa at his most ambitious and also my favorite visual film in his catalog. This is a melodramatic story - worthy of the bard himself - but extremely well made and the most obvious example of Kurosawa’s interest in painting.
  11. High and Low (1963) - My favorite of Kurosawa’s two police procedural films. Mifune was on full display here and the overall pacing and structure of this film was great.
  12. One Wonderful Sunday (1947) - A lot of people sh*t on this movie but I really loved it. For me it was Kurosawa a few years ahead of his time with a style that many of the French masters would perfect in about 15-20 years after this release. The New Wave stylings are all here, and the ending worked for me. Even if it was a bit overdone and heavy-handed, in 1947 I have to imagine it was new and interesting.
  13. Throne of Blood (1957) - Nothing inherently wrong here to have this come in 13th overall. I found myself objectively pointing out the strengths of this film as opposed to genuinely being connected to it so it slid down a few notches.
  14. Kagemusha (1980) - My favorite first 10-15 minutes of any Kurosawa film and my favorite soundtrack. This had potential to be my favorite overall film but, despite enjoying it, I did find myself checking my watch a time or two so it got moved down a bit. But, I still really enjoyed it.
  15. Sanshiro Sugata, Part Two (1945) - I had this ranked in the Top 5 for a long time. It is an incredibly straightforward story but I just love the character of Sanshiro and felt like it was fun to watch the original Rocky IV.
  16. The Quiet Duel (1949) - Ranked so high purely on the back of the performances of Mifune and Shimura. Also, I found myself in a very contemplative state as the theme of maturity and taking ownership hit me on a personal level.
  17. The Lower Depths (1957) - Probably some of Kurosawa’s most memorable characters and a true ensemble picture. This is a very well made film but I struggled with the cynicism.
  18. Sanshiro Sugata (1943) - A simple story told well and a strong performance from Susumu Fujita.
  19. Drunken Angel (1948) - There were parts of this film I really enjoyed but there was a bit of creative experimentation here that didn’t quite land for me and Kurosawa had not fully hit his stride.
  20. Stray Dog (1949) - I struggled with this dropping as far as it did everything said and done I just could not get behind the “why” of this policeman’s despair over losing his gun.
  21. Red Beard (1965) - A great film, well made, and way too dark and cynical for my taste.
  22. Dreams (1990) - Some great visuals and an interesting story but Kurosawa made many greater films than this over his career.
  23. Scandal (1950) - I have a feeling this might rank higher on a rewatch but I never quite got invested in the success of the characters here.
  24. The Men Who Tread on the Tiger’s Tail (1945) - I really enjoyed this borderline short film but it’s the equivalent of finding a tape from a famous artist before they got famous and really enjoying one of their cover songs. You can’t say an excellent cover is one of your favorite songs right?
  25. Rhapsody in August (1991) - Preachy and unfortunately not well told although it did have some sweet moments and still an engaging film.
  26. The Most Beautiful (1944) - A sweet film but still a strong propaganda vehicle at the end of the day and he made a lot better than this.
  27. The Idiot (1951) - A miss. I would love to see the rumored Director’s cut if it does in fact exist.
  28. Dodes’ke-den (1970) - I couldn’t tell if it was exploiting the poor just to have a compelling vehicle for a story but either way I did not overly enjoy this picture.
  29. I Live in Fear (1955) - Forgettable. I had to reread the plot of this film to even remember what to say about it.
  30. No Regrets for Our Youth (1946) - An attempt at a sweeping character epic that, for me, felt uncoordinated and disjointed. There were parts I enjoyed but nothing I loved.
submitted by viewtoathrill to personalhistoryoffilm [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 06:25 ozzuneoj Hyundai V6 Head Gasket leaking onto Alternator... how common is it really?

Here's some background, skip if you just want to get to the point:
---------
I own a 2006 Sonata GLS V6 I bought as a Hyundai Certified Used car back in January of 2008 for under $15,000 (even knocked a bit off trading in my '96 Buick that was rusting to pieces). I have put very few miles on the car in all these years (about 71K), and it has been incredibly reliable. I've had no problems with it other than brake issues (rotors, calipers and brake lines due to being in the salt belt). Sadly, the northern winters and salt (and me not learning about fluid film undercoating until about a year ago) has lead to me needing a new car before my PA inspection is up in January. Because of my experience with this car, I was gung-ho about going with another used Hyundai or possibly a comparable Kia... either a Santa Fe, Veracruz or Kia Sorento. Most likely from 2008-2012 since my budget is considerably lower this time. I am a big fan of V6 engines, so whatever I get will have one.
Then I started doing my research.
-----------
I found tons of reports of all models of Hyundai Lambda V6 engines (3.3, 3.8, 3.5) having head gasket leaks that can kill your alternator... often while driving! This got me thinking, and I realized that my car has had a seepage of oil in this spot for YEARS! A couple years ago I had a very experienced mechanic friend of mine take a peek at it and he said it wasn't "good" but wasn't that unusual or worth diagnosing on such an old (rusty) car if everything was working fine. Thankfully in my case it never got bad enough to kill the alternator, but the metal casing of my alternator is now definitely blackened and sticky with oil after several years of seepage. Knowing this is common certainly effects my plans for purchasing another Hyundai V6.
It seems only the Veracruz actually had a recall for the V6 gasket leak issue, despite the fact that the Sonata, Azera, Santa Fe, Kia Sorento and others used these engines for several years. The worst part is that many reported that replacing the gasket (some had their dealership do it 4 times) did nothing and that it was a problem with the valve cover itself.

So... how common is this really?
If I find a 9 year old Santa Fe or Veracruz with low-ish miles, am I likely to run into this? If I don't see oil seepage in this spot on a vehicle with 80K miles, am I likely to see it at all?
Is there a permanent fix that can be performed without much trouble by an experienced "normal" mechanic, or is it something that only a Hyundai expert (with special tools) could do.
Finally, is there any other major\recurring\expensive issues with these engines or any of these vehicles (V6 2007-2012 Santa Fe, Veracruz, Kia Sorento) that would make them a bad purchase?
Is there anything to watch out for when inspecting one before purchase?
Thank you so much for your time, I've been losing sleep for about two weeks trying to research what vehicle to purchase... I love my old Sonata and I hate to see her go. Most comfortable car I've ever been in.
submitted by ozzuneoj to Hyundai [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 06:17 treytakzona [Post-game Quotes Thread] Peters: "I’m pissed. Obviously, we had opportunities to win the game, even playing as poorly as we played...I just wasn’t really happy with the way we started the game."

Peters:
“It just kind of carried throughout. The previous two weeks we’ve been inconsistent at times, but we found a way to win. Sometimes, winning can be a band-aid over things that we do wrong. I feel like in this league you get what you earn and today we earned a loss.”
Kyler:
“When you believe you should have won a game and you didn’t do the necessary things to win the game, it’s going to be frustrating any time, especially when you can’t help but watch them kick a field goal at the end."
“(We) had every opportunity to win that game and kind of just let it slip away. I feel like if I didn’t do what I did (wrong) today, we win the game.”
"We were just a little off all day, I guess. It's part of it. We've got to be better at practice, and I think it'll show in the game."
On not getting Fitz more touches
"I couldn't really answer that, I don't know why. Just kind of the flow of the game type of deal. Hope to get him more involved next week."
On Isabella
"(I) love Andy. Glad to see him get his opportunity here."
On his INTs
"On that one (to Hopkins), I threw it behind him. I thought it was a user-error. That’s a completion every day of the week. The one with Dan, I got my arm hit."
“Then the other one to Larry, just a good play, bad read.”
Kliff:
"You’ve got to give them credit. I said all week they’re going to come in and play a great game. They had their backs against the wall and they came in and found a way to beat us. We didn’t play particularly well and I think you can see that. It starts with me not getting us ready to play."
“I didn’t call a very good game, we turned the ball over three times, they didn’t turn it over any, we had 12 men on the field, things of that nature. Those will get you beat and that’s what happened today.”
“I’ll have to take a look at the film and see kind of what happened there. We just can’t turn the ball over like that — three times against a good team and expect to win the game."
“I think the percentage of winning the game if you have three turnovers and they have zero is like 5%.”
On Fitz's quiet game
"Yeah, that’s on me. I should have done a better job of finding ways to get him the football. He’s the heart and soul of this team and when he’s getting the football, good things happen.”
On Fitz possibly starting to slow down
"No, I don't think anything like that, honestly. He had one of the best camps of anybody on the team. Played great in the first few games, was getting open. I just did a poor job of getting him involved."
On Hopkins
"He’s just a guy who finds a way to get open. When he has the ball in his hands, he really makes plays with it. You can see him in the open field making people miss, doing things to get the YAC (yards after catch) and that’s kind of his specialty."
Isabella:
"My mind was one of the biggest things that was holding me back. Let a lot of people get in my mind. And I think me changing my mindset, where, I worked so hard for this, and there’s no reason why I shouldn’t go out there with an edge.”
“It’s definitely a step in the right direction. Came out with the edge today, got a lot of opportunities and you don’t ever know when you’re going to get your next opportunity. So, very grateful for the opportunity today and came out with that edge and played with that edge and made plays.”
Sources:
https://www.azcentral.com/story/sports/nfl/cardinals/2020/09/27/cardinals-know-they-have-lot-work-left-do-after-loss-lions/3557772001/
https://www.azcentral.com/story/sports/nfl/cardinals/2020/09/27/cardinals-loss-lions-setback-not-defining-moment/3557971001/
https://www.azcentral.com/story/sports/nfl/cardinals/2020/09/27/hopkins-leads-all-receivers-quiet-day-cardinals-larry-fitzgerald/3555503001/
https://arizonasports.com/story/2408037/kyler-murrays-picks-cardinals-late-botched-drives-lead-to-lions-win/
https://arizonasports.com/story/2407900/andy-isabella-gets-his-opportunity-scores-2-tds-for-cardinals-vs-lions/
submitted by treytakzona to AZCardinals [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 06:17 Maleficent_Turnip_70 Hello! I’m a 25 year old male that lives in the USA. I am looking for a long term friend/penpal located anywhere in the world. I love hiking. I’m a fan of anime. Cooking is a favorite hobby of mine. I love surfing! Spiders scare me. I am fluent in English and I know some Korean. I’m inlove with tea!

Hello. I’m a 25 year old male that lives on the west coast of the USA. I miss having a penpal! Several years ago I used to have a penpal from Europe and I absolutely enjoyed learning about the person’s culture. I haven’t had a penpal in such a long time and I miss having one so much! I love learning about new cultures. We can swap food recipes and tell each other random fun facts about where we live. We could be good long term friends! I want to get to know you and I want you to get to know me.
Yellow is my favorite color. I love reading. Adventures are fun I think. I love poetry. Tea is my favorite drink. I’m afraid of heights. The Mortal Instruments is my favorite book series. I’m a casual gamer and I love Nintendo games. Pizza is my favorite food.
I’m a Christian. I believe in God and I love God. I’m baptized and church is frequently a constant in my life. I don’t care if your religious or not :) I won’t judge you. I also won’t randomly preach to you! I just wanted to tell you this fact about myself because it is a big part of my life.
Music is awesome. Indie and dubstep are my favorite genres but I’ll listen to any type of music as long as it’s good. I also like k pop.
I’ve traveled all over the world. I’ve been to every USA state and most of Europe. France is my favorite place to visit and I love Hawaii.
I love cooking. I cook every chance that I get! I live with my parents so I cook them dinner at least once a week. Cooking is art to me!
I know some Korean and I’m fluent in English.
My favorite animals are kangaroos. I love animals and I think they are all precious in their own unique ways. I wish more people would rescue cats/dogs!
I’ve seen every Studio Ghibli film. I love anime. Code Geass is my favorite anime. I’ve cosplayed many times at anime cons. The Promised Neverland is my favorite manga.
The outdoors is something that I’m absolutely in love with. I go hiking a lot. Camping a constantly apart of my schedule. I love thru hiking. A few months ago I spent some time in nature in the middle of nowhere. In a few weeks I’m going to go on a multi day nature trip.
I skateboard and longboard a lot. Longboarding is my favorite.
Just be over 18 if you message me. I don’t care about your gender or location. I’m looking for a long term friendship. I love long messages and I’ll send you many thoughtful long messages. I’m open to snail mail but let’s start off with emailing. We can exchange email addresses after a few messages on Reddit. Let’s be awesome friends! :)
submitted by Maleficent_Turnip_70 to InternetFriends [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 06:16 f_irefly [South Park] My batshit insane theory essay: Cartman is in love with Kyle.

If there's one thing that has made South Park rise to its cult TV show status, it has to be Eric Cartman and his cartoonishly deranged, machiavellian personality that we can't help but enjoy greatly. These traits of course, entertain us the most in his schemings, but they also manifest in his relationships with others.
Likely a sociopath, he tends to treat everyone in the same manner, devoid of any sign of attachment; he may slightly adjust his demeanor according to his interlocutor, but it's not rooted in a sincere opinion of their personality traits as much as it is to maximize his advantage. With most people, he doesn't go out of his way to seek them isn't it with a specific momentary goal in mind.
But sociopaths can also choose very specific people to whom they will sincerely give a place in their lives. They evaluate that these people are worth spending their energy and attention towards because they find the time spent together interesting or enjoyable. For Cartman, that's Kyle, his arch-rival. And over the seasons, this attachment has degenerated into something increasingly bizarre.
You see, Cartman is literally obsessed with Kyle.
Beyond the obvious compulsory antagonizing, Cartman claims to frequently sneak into Kyle's room at night, has been able to predict word for word what he's about to say, indirectly admits that his life is "empty and hollow" without him, and *has recorded and saved on his phone everything Kyle has said in the past year and a half. * I can't even begin to list the amount of times he mentions him when he isn't there and has nothing to do with the situation.
This has made many fans wonder: What exactly is going on here? Get this: many have theorized, this website's users included, that Cartman is secretly, or subconsciously,... in love with Kyle. In this thread, I'm elaborating on the evidence I've found through various episodes, discussions and threads/blogposts.

Whether Eric's attracted to Kyle or not, it has always been suspected by the fandom that he was closeted. If you've watched your fair share of episodes, surely you understand why.
But to me a single one is enough to cement it: S19's "Tweek x Craig". In that episode, Cartman hallucinates Cupid Me, who actually represents a part of his psyche. Now Cupid Me is very attracted to him and asks him out, but this could convey that Eric's narcissism is so severe that it takes a romantic nature, not that he's gay. However, things get interesting when Cupid Me goes to a gay bar. Eric tells him: "Why are you here? It's not... you", which is clearly self-referential. Cupid Me answers: "I'm here to pick up on guys", affirming that Cupid Me does in fact represent his attraction to the same gender.
This is furthermore confirmed in a chart of the characters made for TFBW, in which it is revealed that Cartman is "secretly into yaoi". This is reflected in his diary, which notably contains a lewd drawing of two Kyles surrounded by red hearts. In the same game, a further link between Cupid Me and Kyle is made in the franchise plan, in which the very first TV show the boys plan to make has the subject of Cupid Me. The show's characters? Cartman and Kyle.
Back to the episode: we then follow Cupid Me telling Cartman he should be gay because "it's cool, like Tweek and Craig", explaining why being gay is okay, and Cartman frustratingly insisting he is not homosexual a total of six times: Obviously, he is deeply in denial and frustrated about his homosexuality. There is no doubt that this anger would manifest towards a boy he has feelings for, especially if they're unrequited.
This is definitely reflected in Cartman's behavior towards Kyle and the very newest episode centering on them, S23's "Mexican Joker", exemplifies this nicely. It starts out with Cartman calling an ICE tip on Kyle because he supposedly wants him away. But when he is eventually sent to the detention center himself, Eric betrays his true feelings: he spends the entire time teasing Kyle, singing to him and smiling. He can't let Kyle even sleep and frowns when he's ignored. He quite literally follows him every time Kyle tries to walk away from him. Cartman is nine. He is either too emotionally immature to understand, or represses that he's profoundly drawn to Kyle, the same way he does his attraction to boys.
The most intriguing scene is when he afterwards longly apologizes to Kyle, either in a rare show of guilt or in a desperate attempt to win his attention back. He then becomes subservient as soon as Kyle starts giving orders and stays quiet for the rest of the episode, not objecting to Kyle making him wear a yarmulke, or to him accidently making them have to stay in the camp. This type of "un-Cartman-like" behavior is a pattern in newer seasons wherein Eric will be pleasant to Kyle with no ulterior motive, which is something he does almost exclusively to him and testifies just how exceptional his liking for Kyle is.

As a matter of fact, he makes this clear when Kyle saves him by transforming into "Kyley-B".: "Deep down inside, you're a monster. But you're my little monster!" This isn't the only time Eric gives a sweet nickname to Kyle, as he also does so when spying on him in S16's "Obama Wins": "Run now, little firefly".
This is a reference to the film "Silence of the Lambs" when Hannibal says "Fly now, little Starling" to Clarice, giving her this affectionate nickname because he's madly, obsessively in love with her. So the writers were definitely aware of the romantic connotation when they chose this reference.
Cartman is sometimes shown to especially care about Kyle's opinion. He was clearly hurt by Kyle wanting to leave his Washington Redskins company and sighed of relief when he decided to come back, even holding his next company presentation with him. After being mocked for his suicide threat voicemail, he sets up a suicide awareness stand in which he complains about "Kyle thinking it's a joke", as if the fact Kyle mocked him mattered more to him than the fact every guy did. And when Kyle agreed with him about Colombus day, the scene switched to an Eric giving a tender smile.
After learning that Al Gore knows how to kill ManBearPig, Cartman goes to Kyle's house with Kenny to ask him if he wants to join the escapade. When he receives the material to build his own bike, he calls Kyle to ask him if he did too. Each time he finds himself helpless in "Gluten Free Ebola", he reaches out to Kyle and only Kyle for help. And just look at the ending to "Jewpacabra".
In the "You're Getting Old" duology, Kyle's importance to Cartman is put front and center as the rivals become best friends: Eric's paranoid reaction to Stan trying to take back his place as Kyle's best friend is suspicious and reeks of jealousy. Likewise, after getting beat up by PC Principal, Eric initially refuses to take his revenge on him in a conversation with Butters. But as Butters reluctantly reveals to him that the PC frat house is now attacking Kyle, he immediately changes his mind. "Kyle?... My friend, Kyle?..."

Some of Cartman's interactions with Kyle are possible attempts at flirting. Just look at the first scene in S19's "Truth and Advertising". This is blatantly different from the usual scenario in older seasons wherein Cartman bothers Kyle. This is entirely useless to the narrative and nonrewarding to the episode's humor or message. But it is adorable and does suspiciously look like stereotypical "pigtail-pulling", so it could've been included specifically to give this impression.
And in this scene, Eric not only is trying to "look cool" in front of Kyle, but he doesn't want him to fall (implied: in love with Leslie, as official translations have confirmed), as if that was the biggest thing to worry about in such a dramatic situation.
Furthermore, throughout Eric's relationship with Heidi, he constantly refers to the fact Kyle has never been in a relationship and starts one-on-one interactions with him while holding Heidi's hand or mentioning her. Initially, this seems like Eric's habitual obsession with antagonizing Kyle and trying to make him jealous of him. But some interactions put this into question:
Kyle: Come on! We need the old Cartman back!
Cartman: [thinks for a second] Oh I see! You have a problem with Heidi. You're threatened by her because she actually has interesting things to say and she is funnier than you.
(S20E4 “Wieners Out”)
Heidi: Before I quit Twitter and threw my phone away, I was trying to prove who our school message board troll was.
Cartman: Like you said what you would do, Kyle, except she actually meant it.
(S20E46 “Fort Collins”)
It seems that Cartman might not actually be trying to make Kyle jealous of him for being in a relationship, but jealous of Heidi herself. If it's truly the case that Eric is going out of his way to try and make Kyle jealous of his romantic partner, then this says a lot about in what type of way he considers him.
In fact, Eric is at ease with the prospect of him and Kyle in a relationship. In "Tonsil Trouble", Kyle is the only one to get mad when it keeps being mistaken that Eric and he are a couple. The first time, Eric is completely unbothered. The second time, he eyes Kyle from top to bottom with a raised eyebrow, thoughtful.
Undoubtedly the most striking evidence is S16's “Cartman Finds Love". When there is a new girl at school, Nichole, Cartman insists she must fall in love with Token, since she's black. It just so happens that she has a crush on Kyle instead. Cartman’s solution? Tell Nichole Kyle is his boyfriend, to “Stay away from my man, bitch" and ultimately confess his love for him with a serenade in a crowded basketball game.
(At the moment where Cartman gets the idea of going to the basketball game to confess his love to Kyle, he has wrapped himself in the very blanket that Kyle used to save him three episodes earlier in “Jewpacabra”. This could be symbolic.)
In the point of view of this theory, what Eric did in this episode was the pinnacle of wish fulfillement. He was finally able to let out extremely repressed feelings in the most freeing manner, get a whole crowd to think he was in a relationship with the boy of his dreams and get encouraged for what he's used of feeling ashamed of, all while conveniently avoiding the social repercussions of it by having the pretext that he did it for Token and Nichole.
The official South Park Twitter, Instagram and Tumblr accounts have notoriously repeatedly posted the scene wherein Eric confesses his love to Kyle. It is always implied that what Cartman was telling Kyle was true: phrasings such as "Watch Cartman confess his feelings", "professed his love for Kyle" or "show his softer side" are used. Even in the official press release, which is made halfway through the episode's creation, the description states this. This video from the official Comedy Central Snapchat implies that the reason Cartman spread the rumor that he's in a relationship with Kyle is because he has unrequited romantic feelings for him.

Consider this: psychologically, it makes a lot of sense for Eric to fall in love with Kyle. Kyle plays a very "hard-to-get" type of role in Eric's life wherein he is often the only person to be unimpressed by him, to prevent him from getting what he wants and to challenge some of the most basic parts of what Cartman makes who he is. This is even more likely to seduce someone who is as preoccupied with pride and power as Eric is, and he's clearly already become obsessed. On the other side of the same coin, narcissism is often a suppression of deep-seated self-awareness. Cartman might have grown to be subconsciously deeply attached to Kyle due to him being the only person in his life to genuinely care and wish for his self-improvement.
If somehow you couldn't tell, I've been a big fan of this theory for a good while now and I'm aware that I can therefore be biased. I'm curious about the average viewer's opinion on this theory, so your feedback is precious even if it's only sharing how likely you think it is!
submitted by f_irefly to u/f_irefly [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 06:02 Maleficent_Turnip_70 Hello! I’m a 25 year old male that lives in the USA. I am looking for a long term friend/penpal located anywhere in the world. I love hiking. I’m a fan of anime. Cooking is a favorite hobby of mine. I love surfing! Spiders scare me. I am fluent in English and I know some Korean. I’m inlove with tea!

Hello. I’m a 25 year old male that lives on the west coast of the USA. I miss having a penpal! Several years ago I used to have a penpal from Europe and I absolutely enjoyed learning about the person’s culture. I haven’t had a penpal in such a long time and I miss having one so much! I love learning about new cultures. We can swap food recipes and tell each other random fun facts about where we live. We could be good long term friends! I want to get to know you and I want you to get to know me.
Yellow is my favorite color. I love reading. Adventures are fun I think. I love poetry. Tea is my favorite drink. I’m afraid of heights. The Mortal Instruments is my favorite book series. I’m a casual gamer and I love Nintendo games. Pizza is my favorite food.
I’m a Christian. I believe in God and I love God. I’m baptized and church is frequently a constant in my life. I don’t care if your religious or not :) I won’t judge you. I also won’t randomly preach to you! I just wanted to tell you this fact about myself because it is a big part of my life.
Music is awesome. Indie and dubstep are my favorite genres but I’ll listen to any type of music as long as it’s good. I also like k pop.
I’ve traveled all over the world. I’ve been to every USA state and most of Europe. France is my favorite place to visit and I love Hawaii.
I love cooking. I cook every chance that I get! I live with my parents so I cook them dinner at least once a week. Cooking is art to me!
I know some Korean and I’m fluent in English.
My favorite animals are kangaroos. I love animals and I think they are all precious in their own unique ways. I wish more people would rescue cats/dogs!
I’ve seen every Studio Ghibli film. I love anime. Code Geass is my favorite anime. I’ve cosplayed many times at anime cons. The Promised Neverland is my favorite manga.
The outdoors is something that I’m absolutely in love with. I go hiking a lot. Camping a constantly apart of my schedule. I love thru hiking. A few months ago I spent some time in nature in the middle of nowhere. In a few weeks I’m going to go on a multi day nature trip.
I skateboard and longboard a lot. Longboarding is my favorite.
Just be over 18 if you message me. I don’t care about your gender or location. I’m looking for a long term friendship. I love long messages and I’ll send you many thoughtful long messages. I’m open to snail mail but let’s start off with emailing. We can exchange email addresses after a few messages on Reddit. Let’s be awesome friends! :)
submitted by Maleficent_Turnip_70 to textfriends [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 05:54 lolbrohahaha1234 LA lifestyle or college and job..

Hey, so hear me out here I am in no way a wannabe LA fame-riding superstar. I started doing Youtube at the age of 15 and obtained a great deal of success since. So much so that it has been my only job ever in my whole life. I pursued school on top of Youtube all the while traveling back and forth from LA to New York. As I wrapped up my 1st year of college this year I came to realization that film and entertainment have never been my true passion in life, I love finance (hence my major). I've lived the LA lifestyle for a small bit, between being intertwined with some pretty big individuals and making some awesome friends. Although within the last year I've come to realize that so many of these people are fake. Now the advice I'm seeking here is what do I do. Do I pursue what I love with finance and complete my degree in college and completely cut off Youtube and this fake lifestyle that i've only known? I absolutely and tired of the fake people, the constant chase for views, chase for fame, etc. I also know that cutting Youtube off completely will remove my income source (which I am pretty well off but still, no work). Am I making the wrong decision in moving towards what I like to do? With this being everything that I've ever done, a hobby that i've done for 6+ years. It just feels scary to walk away from it. Idk????
submitted by lolbrohahaha1234 to Advice [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 05:47 Maleficent_Turnip_70 Hello! I’m a 25 year old male that lives in the USA. I am looking for a long term friend/penpal located anywhere in the world. I love hiking. I’m a fan of anime. Cooking is a favorite hobby of mine. I love surfing! Spiders scare me. I am fluent in English and I know some Korean. I’m inlove with tea!

Hello. I’m a 25 year old male that lives on the west coast of the USA. I miss having a penpal! Several years ago I used to have a penpal from Europe and I absolutely enjoyed learning about the person’s culture. I haven’t had a penpal in such a long time and I miss having one so much! I love learning about new cultures. We can swap food recipes and tell each other random fun facts about where we live. We could be good long term friends! I want to get to know you and I want you to get to know me.
Yellow is my favorite color. I love reading. Adventures are fun I think. I love poetry. Tea is my favorite drink. I’m afraid of heights. The Mortal Instruments is my favorite book series. I’m a casual gamer and I love Nintendo games. Pizza is my favorite food.
I’m a Christian. I believe in God and I love God. I’m baptized and church is frequently a constant in my life. I don’t care if your religious or not :) I won’t judge you. I also won’t randomly preach to you! I just wanted to tell you this fact about myself because it is a big part of my life.
Music is awesome. Indie and dubstep are my favorite genres but I’ll listen to any type of music as long as it’s good. I also like k pop.
I’ve traveled all over the world. I’ve been to every USA state and most of Europe. France is my favorite place to visit and I love Hawaii.
I love cooking. I cook every chance that I get! I live with my parents so I cook them dinner at least once a week. Cooking is art to me!
I know some Korean and I’m fluent in English.
My favorite animals are kangaroos. I love animals and I think they are all precious in their own unique ways. I wish more people would rescue cats/dogs!
I’ve seen every Studio Ghibli film. I love anime. Code Geass is my favorite anime. I’ve cosplayed many times at anime cons. The Promised Neverland is my favorite manga.
The outdoors is something that I’m absolutely in love with. I go hiking a lot. Camping a constantly apart of my schedule. I love thru hiking. A few months ago I spent some time in nature in the middle of nowhere. In a few weeks I’m going to go on a multi day nature trip.
I skateboard and longboard a lot. Longboarding is my favorite.
Just be over 18 if you message me. I don’t care about your gender or location. I’m looking for a long term friendship. I love long messages and I’ll send you many thoughtful long messages. I’m open to snail mail but let’s start off with emailing. We can exchange email addresses after a few messages on Reddit. Let’s be awesome friends! :)
submitted by Maleficent_Turnip_70 to penpals [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 05:39 Ballslayerq11 [PC] Should I buy Mafia: Definitive Edition

I have never played the original mafia or mafia 3 but I played a decent amount of mafia 2 up until the part where you have to drive to the four spots. I am a huge fan of mature mafia and crime films and love all of Scorsese's work. If you think that I will get bored or if the game is a chore to play then vote no because I don't want to spend 40$ on a game that I just end up dropping because it lost my attention. I play games mainly for the story so wonky gunplay or bad graphics doesn't annoy me a whole lot. The price isn't an issue either so don't let that be a factor in your vote.
View Poll
submitted by Ballslayerq11 to ShouldIbuythisgame [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 05:32 Maleficent_Turnip_70 Hello! I’m a 25 year old male that lives in the USA. I am looking for a long term friend/penpal located anywhere in the world. I love hiking. I’m a fan of anime. Cooking is a favorite hobby of mine. I love surfing! Spiders scare me. I am fluent in English and I know some Korean. I’m inlove with tea!

Hello. I’m a 25 year old male that lives on the west coast of the USA. I miss having a penpal! Several years ago I used to have a penpal from Europe and I absolutely enjoyed learning about the person’s culture. I haven’t had a penpal in such a long time and I miss having one so much! I love learning about new cultures. We can swap food recipes and tell each other random fun facts about where we live. We could be good long term friends! I want to get to know you and I want you to get to know me.
Yellow is my favorite color. I love reading. Adventures are fun I think. I love poetry. Tea is my favorite drink. I’m afraid of heights. The Mortal Instruments is my favorite book series. I’m a casual gamer and I love Nintendo games. Pizza is my favorite food.
I’m a Christian. I believe in God and I love God. I’m baptized and church is frequently a constant in my life. I don’t care if your religious or not :) I won’t judge you. I also won’t randomly preach to you! I just wanted to tell you this fact about myself because it is a big part of my life.
Music is awesome. Indie and dubstep are my favorite genres but I’ll listen to any type of music as long as it’s good. I also like k pop.
I’ve traveled all over the world. I’ve been to every USA state and most of Europe. France is my favorite place to visit and I love Hawaii.
I love cooking. I cook every chance that I get! I live with my parents so I cook them dinner at least once a week. Cooking is art to me!
I know some Korean and I’m fluent in English.
My favorite animals are kangaroos. I love animals and I think they are all precious in their own unique ways. I wish more people would rescue cats/dogs!
I’ve seen every Studio Ghibli film. I love anime. Code Geass is my favorite anime. I’ve cosplayed many times at anime cons. The Promised Neverland is my favorite manga.
The outdoors is something that I’m absolutely in love with. I go hiking a lot. Camping a constantly apart of my schedule. I love thru hiking. A few months ago I spent some time in nature in the middle of nowhere. In a few weeks I’m going to go on a multi day nature trip.
I skateboard and longboard a lot. Longboarding is my favorite.
Just be over 18 if you message me. I don’t care about your gender or location. I’m looking for a long term friendship. I love long messages and I’ll send you many thoughtful long messages. I’m open to snail mail but let’s start off with emailing. We can exchange email addresses after a few messages on Reddit. Let’s be awesome friends! :)
submitted by Maleficent_Turnip_70 to Needafriend [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 05:24 jonwondon All social media is incredulous to me

Every time I watch a clip of someone pretending it was a random occurrence, attempting something funny, staging a scene, dancing to some song on tik tok or doing some challenge. I just think:
“Did this person really just take 1-2 hours out of the day to set up and film this dumb sh*t?”
Don’t get me wrong, I love watching random candid events caught on camera....when they’re real.
It just makes me cringe so hard when I see people spending SO MUCH time and effort to make these staged videos. Am I crazy?
submitted by jonwondon to TrueOffMyChest [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 05:20 viewtoathrill viewtoathrill: #36 (Lap 2) Madadayo (1993)

Director: Akira Kurosawa, Ishiro Honda; Writer: Akira Kurosawa, Hyakken Uchida (essays); Watched it on the Criterion AK 100: 25 Films by Akira Kurosawa Box Set IMDB
134 minutes. Madadayo is the title of the movie, and is a call to not accept death. It translates to “not yet”.
Within the context of the film, a revered professor stays in close contact with his students and they come around him and support him later in life. One of the ways they support him is to throw him an annual “not just yet” party on his birthday where he gets shitfaced and engages in a call and response with the guests. They ask him “Are you ready?” as in, are you ready for death to come pay you a visit? And he emphatically yells “Madadayo!”. It’s a life-affirming gesture and a celebration of choosing life.
There are two themes that really jumped out to me throughout the film. The first is the Professor as he is such a unique character. In many ways he has Peter Pan syndrome and is a prankster, always tries to laugh and has a detachment from consequences that is more typical of youth. He also is a surprisingly sentimental character that fully relies on his students and you can tell he honestly views them as the children he never had. He was also a brilliant teacher, and extremely creative with language. It appears that he would have had a very successful writing career if it were not for WWII. I don’t know if he is meant to represent Kurosawa, but the playful and carefree artist that has surprising depth surely seems to fit.
The second theme is his former students. They are devoted to him in a way I have not seen before on film or in real life. It’s not just the annual parties, but a core group of students will come over to laugh and cry with him, they will help him buy a new house, move into the house, find his missing cat and they treat him as a father. It was touching to watch. I don’t know if this is the classic collectivist vs. individualistic discussion or if it’s simply just meant to show an aging man and the respect he has from the people he has influenced and taught.
As this was Kurosawa’s last film I hate to bring up anything negative, but I will spend a few sentences on one thing that I did notice. If this film was meant to tie into Kurosawa’s late life - and the personal connection certainly seems to be his trademark - then this was a bit of a self-serving film and I found it a bit distasteful. Everything the Professor said was funny, on point and his students offered unwavering support. He had an opportunity once a year to stand up in front of a group and be celebrated. There is much in here that could potentially tie into how Kurosawa had wished his later years had gone. There was not much of an arc here, just a character aging and everyone around him celebrating everything he did.
That being said, I really enjoyed Madadayo. It ended up as my 7th favorite Kurosawa film. Not because of the emotional depth or existential ponderings present in his masterpieces, but simply because I really enjoyed watching it. I loved the character of the Professor - despite his flaws - and I didn’t mind that one of the greatest modern storytellers had an opportunity to present an example of how legends should in fact be treated as they inch closer to the grave. An easy recommendation and the 2+ hours flies by.
Started and finished on September 26th 2020
submitted by viewtoathrill to 100movies365days [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 05:19 viewtoathrill Madadayo (1993)

In 2020 not in TSPDT Top 2000; Director: Akira Kurosawa, Ishiro Honda; Writer: Akira Kurosawa, Hyakken Uchida (essays); Watched it September 25th on the Criterion AK 100: 25 Films by Akira Kurosawa Box Set IMDB
134 minutes. Madadayo is the title of the movie, and is a call to not accept death. It translates to “not yet”.
Within the context of the film, a revered professor stays in close contact with his students and they come around him and support him later in life. One of the ways they support him is to throw him an annual “not just yet” party on his birthday where he gets shitfaced and engages in a call and response with the guests. They ask him “Are you ready?” as in, are you ready for death to come pay you a visit? And he emphatically yells “Madadayo!”. It’s a life-affirming gesture and a celebration of choosing life.
There are two themes that really jumped out to me throughout the film. The first is the Professor as he is such a unique character. In many ways he has Peter Pan syndrome and is a prankster, always tries to laugh and has a detachment from consequences that is more typical of youth. He also is a surprisingly sentimental character that fully relies on his students and you can tell he honestly views them as the children he never had. He was also a brilliant teacher, and extremely creative with language. It appears that he would have had a very successful writing career if it were not for WWII. I don’t know if he is meant to represent Kurosawa, but the playful and carefree artist that has surprising depth surely seems to fit.
The second theme is his former students. They are devoted to him in a way I have not seen before on film or in real life. It’s not just the annual parties, but a core group of students will come over to laugh and cry with him, they will help him buy a new house, move into the house, find his missing cat and they treat him as a father. It was touching to watch. I don’t know if this is the classic collectivist vs. individualistic discussion or if it’s simply just meant to show an aging man and the respect he has from the people he has influenced and taught.
As this was Kurosawa’s last film I hate to bring up anything negative, but I will spend a few sentences on one thing that I did notice. If this film was meant to tie into Kurosawa’s late life - and the personal connection certainly seems to be his trademark - then this was a bit of a self-serving film and I found it a bit distasteful. Everything the Professor said was funny, on point and his students offered unwavering support. He had an opportunity once a year to stand up in front of a group and be celebrated. There is much in here that could potentially tie into how Kurosawa had wished his later years had gone. There was not much of an arc here, just a character aging and everyone around him celebrating everything he did.
That being said, I really enjoyed Madadayo. It ended up as my 7th favorite Kurosawa film. Not because of the emotional depth or existential ponderings present in his masterpieces, but simply because I really enjoyed watching it. I loved the character of the Professor - despite his flaws - and I didn’t mind that one of the greatest modern storytellers had an opportunity to present an example of how legends should in fact be treated as they inch closer to the grave. An easy recommendation and the 2+ hours flies by.
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2020.09.28 05:08 Jjustingraham War Bride (Part Six)

I heard from Agent Smith.
I'm going to see him tonight, and I'll catch you up soon; for now, I'll continue with Lil's words.
***
I don't know how long I slept, I only knew that when I'd woken up enough times to remember where I was, I was on a truck.
A rough blanket lined the floor where I lay, and I was tied down to the seats. I freaked out and tried to move, before a hand rested on my chest.
A woman I didn't recognize, eyes shining like prehistoric eggs against sun blackened skin, gently tapped me and shook her finger, then began to untie the ropes. I realized they'd tied me down so I wouldn't roll as the truck moved. The others watched me like ghosts, eyes suspended in the dark.
The sky looked like it had died; filled with ash from great columns of flame and black smoke, the sunlight diffusing through painted the landscape in a feeble yellow and orange and green. I didn't know where we were.
The truck was filled with the same women and children and thin, ailing men. All prisoners.
It felt as though we drove for days, it might have been weeks, it might have been hours. People vomited and urinated where we sat. When we did stop for breaks, the same people were forced to scrub the seats and floors of the truck before we continued.
We arrived at [REDACTED] sometime in [REDACTED]. It was the same setup as before - a landscape swathed in carnage - a nondescript apartment building, multiple families jammed into a single space.
The room I was in didn't have an exterior wall, so every shift of the wind was amplified to a shrieking whistle, and the floor felt alternated between ice and hot coals. I didn't get a bed this time, just a spot on the floor and a thin bag with whatever possessions I had and time. I was left to rot.
I didn't need anyone to tell me that my stomach was empty. I layed there, developing bedsores, the corners of bones pressing against my skin, relief and grief pooling together in my mind.
The snow began to pile up on the ground as temperatures plummeted even during the day. We were moved to another room after one woman, two days after being mauled by several fighters while I lay less than fifteen feet away, just didn't wake up in the morning. I was told she froze to death.
The new room was even smaller and even more cramped, people sleeping two or three to a bed roll. A doctor had been to see me a few times, I think he was a POW too, a Syrian, and spoke enough English to teach me a little bit of Arabic. He told me his name was Ismail. He talked. About his wife, his children, the life he’d had “before.” It had been good.
“I had a life that was meaningful. You learn to live in fear, because war here, it never ends. Whether your enemies are from another country, or at home, you never know. So you know how to suffer, but you learn as well. You learn to endure. You learn to find meaning in life, as God had intended you to find it. You see beauty in life even when it may not be obvious, but with His Grace, you find it.”
When he found out I had lost the baby he folded his hands on top of my stomach and said " From Allah we are born, and to Allah we return," and prayed with me.
I hadn't needed anyone to tell me that my stomach was empty. It just was, a simple fact that didn't alter anything else in any way. My bones, thinner and sharper, pressed into my skin at crazy angles, distracting me from the pain of absence. I didn't want to be a mom, I didn't want to bring a child into this situation. I didn't want his child. But it ached just the same. I don’t think praying helped me, in a spiritual way. I’d never been religious - not as a kid when Mom and Dad made my sister and I go to Church and Sunday school - but it did feel good to think of things hopefully. To have some kind of hope.
The next time I saw Youssef, it was clear that something had changed. It’s hard to explain it, since I’d seen so many sides of his personality in such a short time - kind and loving, cold and distant, violent and spiteful, filled with anger and hatred, filled with fear. I hadn’t seen him since the miscarriage - before we left [REDACTED], at least, I think it was [REDACTED]. I didn’t recognize him when he stepped into my room, pulled me up, and dragged me to the hospital. He didn’t speak - I wondered if he had even recognized who I was. His face was covered in heavy scarring, the skin thicker than I remembered, beard growing crazilly, the hair poking between folds and scabs like reeds hiding behind stones.
I couldn’t walk well. My hips felt like a wreck and my stomach didn’t support my back. I hadn’t gotten much exercise to help me recover, so he basically hauled me bodily towards one of their trucks, several fighters seated in the open back. He lifted me up and some of them grabbed me with careless hands and pulled me on as if I were a small girl. Their faces, all of them, were grim carvings in blocks of wood. Youssef hopped on the back as somewhere the Adhan played in the distance. One of them hit the back of the truck and the driver pulled away.
Youssef looked out into the rapidly dying sunlight, his face almost exaggeratedly turned away from me, like it hurt him to look at me. I looked from him to his gun, that was wedged between our legs, and looked at the others. I remember Dad teaching us how to shoot when we were younger, but I couldn’t make heads or tails of how the guns worked. I fantasized about grabbing one and emptying it into all of them, then jumping into the darkness and running away, but like daydreams do, the thought just subsided.
We arrived at the hospital camp and Youssef hopped down, then grabbed me from one of the men before slinging his gun across his back. It was so jarring, knowing him as he was, he looked like a little boy playing Rambo. Knowing who he was now, I just loathed him.
The hospital was in the remains of an older one - I could see MSF signs riddled with bullets and smudged with fire - Doctors Without Borders. There were gaping holes in the sides of the building and it looked like the roof had caved in. My legs began to shake - the whole thing could come down at any moment. He pulled me inside.
The smell hit immediately - bodily waste and the metallic sting of blood. When you’re around enough of it, it coats your throat and your nostrils and your mouth with that oily film - you can’t ever bathe enough to get it out. The hospital looked like it had been taken floor by floor - gore and peeling paint flecked every surface.
We entered a courtyard that looked like it had been knocked out of the center of the building, merging it into a smaller courtyard that had originally been built in. I looked up and could hardly see the sky through the clouds of flies. It was nauseating, but Youssef continued to pull me along, until he finally could show me what he wanted me to see.
It was Ismail. A noose ran tight around his neck, his face bloated, eyes and tongue popping out, swinging gently in the breeze. Youssef pointed at him with disdain.
“Do not forget, you are a married woman.”
\***
I was put to work as a nurse, answering to some of the other Doctors, who were also POWs. One was an American, I think, his skin was so blotchy and red, his grey hair falling out in clumps, eyes wild with exhaustion. I didn’t speak to him. He must have been there for a long time because he spoke Arabic fluently, and directed everything with this wiry energy.
I spoke to almost no one besides taking orders. The prioritized were the fighters injured in fighting or training exercises. If we had medicine, they were the ones who got it. If we were running short on water, they were the ones who got it. There weren’t many POWs, I think, because they never made it to hospitals. I worked there every day. At night, Youssef would try to take me.
By this point, I just let him, because I didn’t care. It was macabre, how we had shared this trauma and never spoke about it. Never even acknowledged it. I knew he was trying to get me pregnant again, because it didn’t look like he enjoyed what he was doing, not like before, when he seemed to take pleasure in hurting me. Now, it was automatic, it reminded me of The Handmaid’s Tale, which we had to read in highschool. I laughed at how the sex in that book was so weirdly portrayed. Sex with Youssef before had been this powerful, emotional connection that felt amazing. Now we were just two strangers slamming into each other.
The bigger issue for him was that...I don’t think he could actually do it anymore. He couldn't get hard, it frustrated him, and he got even more out of it. When he was hard enough to put it in, he couldn't finish. After a while he developed this bizzarre routine - he would chant, trying to psych himself up, sometimes, I'm not sure, pray? Hit himself, yell, call out other women's names, but nothing seemed to work.
Eventually his anger towards me came back. He belittled me, cursed me out. Told me I was useless, a lousy lay, a waste. He got more aggressive, trying to hurt me, but none of it really mattered. In a perverse way, I began to look forward to it. I had nothing, no agency, no control. But I could control what I gave him. And I gave him absolutely nothing.
That night he was high, I think he figured that would help. It did, because he was hard, but I refused to acknowledge him, refused to let my body react in pain or pleasure. I was determined, even when he ripped my hijab off and grabbed fistfuls of my hair and pulled my head towards his, reeking of sweat and piss.
"Your sister was a better fuck."
My mind went blank. I hardly spoke, so when I did, my jaw groaned and my tongue felt swollen and sweaty.
"What?"
He continued, digging his fingers into my throat.
"Melanie was a better screw. We had to put a pillow over her face so you wouldn't hear her squeal."
"You're a liar."
He giggled.
"We used to fuck whenever you were at class late, whenever you slept in on weekends, whenever her stupid boyfriend was out of the house. I would make her scream…"
My mind faded as he kept on. He was lying. How couldn't he be? He was saying it to psych himself up, to make himself feel like a man. He wasn't a man. He was a fucking liar.
His body shook and grunted - an ugly, throaty sound - as he came.
\***
I didn't get pregnant again right away. But bragging about his affair with Mel seemed to reinvigorate him. He began to take other slaves, and relayed to me how much better they were than I was. I don't know if any of them gave him a child, if they did he didn't say, but it seemed to become an obsession for him. To knock me up again. To make me give him a child.
Spring came, then summer decayed into fall, then the war came back, and that's when everything changed.
It was gradual, at first. There was a buildup in the number of fighters and their families. From the apartment, the other slaves and I could see columns of jeeps and trucks and vans headed towards the city center, where I knew they stored most of the weaponry and some of the higher value POWs, like the doctors, or people they wanted to ransom.
Soon, the apartments began to get way too crowded, so a lot of the women, including me, were relocated to the cliffs. Caves were carved out of the rock overlooking the sea. It startled me, momentarily, to think of their being a body of water this big that the town overlooked. The endless flat, baked land eventually becomes fixed in your mind's eye and it's hard to see past that perception. It was beautiful and serene in a way I don't remember having ever experienced. I'd never left Minnesota growing up, had never been traveling before, so to see that was a shock to my system.
The caves themselves had clearly been wired for people to live in for a long time. The fighters who relocated us and were stationed there had cellphone signals and WiFi, but those caves were off limits to us. I was hidden away in a larger cave filled with no less than thirty women and children - there was, basically, no personal or private room. And when the kids were taken away for their mandatory education every morning, a curtain of silence draped over everyone. Nobody talked, nobody emoted. We were always under their eye. I almost looked forward to going to the hospital to work. The only upside is that I rarely saw Youssef then.
The explosions rocked us out of our sleep one night. They were distant, the city was maybe five or ten miles away from us, so I figured that's what the bombers were targeting. The guards wouldn't let us out of the cave to see, but you could see how the inky, utterly black night sky lit up as though a giant phosphorescent lamp turned on. I felt like a deer in awe of headlights right before the car slammed into it.
The hospital volunteers were roused and picked up that night, including myself. As always, we were herded onto one of those small, windowless vans that became suffocatingly hot with everyone in close quarters. When we arrived, the hospital was alive with shrieks and moans and cries. Several buildings I remembered from before no longer existed, and the roads were choked with rubble, so the driver had to take a different route to get there. I didn't have much time to think on that - as soon as we got off we were herded into the main courtyard and put to work. Washing the blood off stumps, bandaging, restraining victims.
One wing was dedicated to the dead. In their tradition, the bodies are ceremonially washed before burial, allowing the family to say goodbye. What struck me, as much as anything, was how many fighters were kids, younger than I was before I got here. I wondered if they had any family - living or dead - who would want to be here, preparing them for the grave.
I was tasked with filling water basins and heating them over campfire stoves so that other fighters acting as attendants could clean the bodies. It was such a dissonant feeling - seeing these guys constantly acting macho and aggressive and violent treating their fallen with such morbid intimacy. I didn't know how to process that.
There was a steady stream of wounded and dead filling into the hospital throughout the night. I don't know how many times I made the trip to get water from the sump pit in the basement, but after a while the fighter watching me vanished, I think, to be of more use somewhere else. I only noticed his absence after carrying another basin up another flight of steps. My back was screaming, my knobby knees swollen and shaking, I had to stop to catch my breath, when I realized he wasn't at the top of the stairs, waiting for me.
He must have been called away for something, and clearly didn't care enough about me to keep watch. Having lost so much weight had hollowed out my face and flattened my body, and I had noticed that the men rarely looked at me with any interest anymore. Maybe that new won anonymity gave me this chance.
I knew they would notice if I didn't show up with the fresh basin, so I hoisted it up as I had been, and delivered it to the men washing the bodies, soapy bloodied water sinking into my socks. I gave a small nod and went back towards the basement. None of them looked my way.
The guard still wasn't there.
There was no way out of the basement. It was a hole. The only way out of the building that I knew was the way I came in, and if I went that way I'd be walking into the command station; there had to be another way out.
I briskly walked past the stairs headed to the basement down the darkened corridor ahead. There was no electricity, so all the electric and kerosene lamps were collected in the courtyard to light the work during the night. The corridor ahead was dark, a yawning throat. I lost my sense of sight in the black and had to feel along the cement walls as they snaked, terrified I would end up back where I started.
My heart started hammering when I heard voices up ahead in Arabic, and I stopped. There were two - a man and a woman. One of them was wracked with pain and fear. I was terrified, it must have been a fighter abusing one of the slaves. I had to help her - I couldn't let him ruin her. But if I tried to help, I would surely be executed, even if I weren't executed for wandering off. I wasn't pregnant now, there was no way anyone would advocate for my life. I inched forward, trying to hear them better -
"Please help me, I can't. It's too much, the pain. I cannot take it anymore."
That voice was male, and it sounded familiar.
"What do you have, to give?"
The second voice sounded like slimy, wet, like a fork being dragged through mud. I felt lightheaded and my ears started to itch, I held the wall with one hand and scratched my ears with the other. I could feel my heartbeat in my fingertips…
"By Allah, I will do anything."
There was a long silence as the man began to weep. The voices had to be close, they felt like they were just around the corner.
"I do not see anything worth giving. But yet…"
My neck and face began to grow cold as every hair on my body stood up. I could feel the wisps of air I breathed out crystallizing like a winter morning, the heat of that briefly warming my skin.
"A life, for a life."
"What?"
"Your soul is corrupted. It is sick, black, abominable. It is nothing to gift. Yet, your life, that is very precious. And it is all that I would want."
I slowly poked my head around the corner and saw two shadowy figures standing in the low depression of an Exit. Fuck. It was the only way out.
Everything felt cold. The walls glinted with frost even in the absence of light, no, there was some, something green and faint.
I slipped back around the corner. There was nowhere to go. If the figures came back this way, they would see me. They would have to exit if I had any chance of leaving myself.
And the cold...it was intolerable. I shoved my hand into my mouth to stop my teeth from chattering and giving me away.
"What do you say?"
The voice sounded like a low shriek in my head; I almost jumped, I swear it sounded as if it came from right next to me. I could taste my blood in my mouth.
"Please, Mother, forgive me."
For a moment it felt as if all the sound in the world had been sucked out of it, and then a low wailing scream, muffled by a hand, and an awful tearing sound, like a bear tearing into an elk.
The scream roared in my head and I dropped to my knees, pressing my bloodied hand over my ear, closing my eyes, it felt like my brain was going to explode.
The pressure abated suddenly, and there was no noise. The temperature started to creep up, my breath didn't fog up anymore. I stared at my hands, and felt something running from my nose. Snot and blood.
Then the sound. A wet crunch and slurp, echoing around me. Standing up, I could see the cold green light glimmering still on the walls, even as the frost melted, and the illumination died.
What the fuck happened?
I learned around the corner.
It was her.
She was standing there, over the man who had been guarding me. His body looked desiccated, as if he had been dead a thousand years, his tongue lolled limply as he stared back towards me from his back. His chest had been split open, and she was standing there hungrily, pulling out his innards and smearing them over her face. Not even eating them. Bathing in them. Her eyes were alive with a green fire.
She looked at me.
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2020.09.28 05:07 Jjustingraham War Bride (Part Six)

I heard from Agent Smith.
I'm going to see him tonight, and I'll catch you up soon; for now, I'll continue with Lil's words.
***
I don't know how long I slept, I only knew that when I'd woken up enough times to remember where I was, I was on a truck.
A rough blanket lined the floor where I lay, and I was tied down to the seats. I freaked out and tried to move, before a hand rested on my chest.
A woman I didn't recognize, eyes shining like prehistoric eggs against sun blackened skin, gently tapped me and shook her finger, then began to untie the ropes. I realized they'd tied me down so I wouldn't roll as the truck moved. The others watched me like ghosts, eyes suspended in the dark.
The sky looked like it had died; filled with ash from great columns of flame and black smoke, the sunlight diffusing through painted the landscape in a feeble yellow and orange and green. I didn't know where we were.
The truck was filled with the same women and children and thin, ailing men. All prisoners.
It felt as though we drove for days, it might have been weeks, it might have been hours. People vomited and urinated where we sat. When we did stop for breaks, the same people were forced to scrub the seats and floors of the truck before we continued.
We arrived at [REDACTED] sometime in [REDACTED]. It was the same setup as before - a landscape swathed in carnage - a nondescript apartment building, multiple families jammed into a single space.
The room I was in didn't have an exterior wall, so every shift of the wind was amplified to a shrieking whistle, and the floor felt alternated between ice and hot coals. I didn't get a bed this time, just a spot on the floor and a thin bag with whatever possessions I had and time. I was left to rot.
I didn't need anyone to tell me that my stomach was empty. I layed there, developing bedsores, the corners of bones pressing against my skin, relief and grief pooling together in my mind.
The snow began to pile up on the ground as temperatures plummeted even during the day. We were moved to another room after one woman, two days after being mauled by several fighters while I lay less than fifteen feet away, just didn't wake up in the morning. I was told she froze to death.
The new room was even smaller and even more cramped, people sleeping two or three to a bed roll. A doctor had been to see me a few times, I think he was a POW too, a Syrian, and spoke enough English to teach me a little bit of Arabic. He told me his name was Ismail. He talked. About his wife, his children, the life he’d had “before.” It had been good.
“I had a life that was meaningful. You learn to live in fear, because war here, it never ends. Whether your enemies are from another country, or at home, you never know. So you know how to suffer, but you learn as well. You learn to endure. You learn to find meaning in life, as God had intended you to find it. You see beauty in life even when it may not be obvious, but with His Grace, you find it.”
When he found out I had lost the baby he folded his hands on top of my stomach and said " From Allah we are born, and to Allah we return," and prayed with me.
I hadn't needed anyone to tell me that my stomach was empty. It just was, a simple fact that didn't alter anything else in any way. My bones, thinner and sharper, pressed into my skin at crazy angles, distracting me from the pain of absence. I didn't want to be a mom, I didn't want to bring a child into this situation. I didn't want his child. But it ached just the same. I don’t think praying helped me, in a spiritual way. I’d never been religious - not as a kid when Mom and Dad made my sister and I go to Church and Sunday school - but it did feel good to think of things hopefully. To have some kind of hope.
The next time I saw Youssef, it was clear that something had changed. It’s hard to explain it, since I’d seen so many sides of his personality in such a short time - kind and loving, cold and distant, violent and spiteful, filled with anger and hatred, filled with fear. I hadn’t seen him since the miscarriage - before we left [REDACTED], at least, I think it was [REDACTED]. I didn’t recognize him when he stepped into my room, pulled me up, and dragged me to the hospital. He didn’t speak - I wondered if he had even recognized who I was. His face was covered in heavy scarring, the skin thicker than I remembered, beard growing crazilly, the hair poking between folds and scabs like reeds hiding behind stones.
I couldn’t walk well. My hips felt like a wreck and my stomach didn’t support my back. I hadn’t gotten much exercise to help me recover, so he basically hauled me bodily towards one of their trucks, several fighters seated in the open back. He lifted me up and some of them grabbed me with careless hands and pulled me on as if I were a small girl. Their faces, all of them, were grim carvings in blocks of wood. Youssef hopped on the back as somewhere the Adhan played in the distance. One of them hit the back of the truck and the driver pulled away.
Youssef looked out into the rapidly dying sunlight, his face almost exaggeratedly turned away from me, like it hurt him to look at me. I looked from him to his gun, that was wedged between our legs, and looked at the others. I remember Dad teaching us how to shoot when we were younger, but I couldn’t make heads or tails of how the guns worked. I fantasized about grabbing one and emptying it into all of them, then jumping into the darkness and running away, but like daydreams do, the thought just subsided.
We arrived at the hospital camp and Youssef hopped down, then grabbed me from one of the men before slinging his gun across his back. It was so jarring, knowing him as he was, he looked like a little boy playing Rambo. Knowing who he was now, I just loathed him.
The hospital was in the remains of an older one - I could see MSF signs riddled with bullets and smudged with fire - Doctors Without Borders. There were gaping holes in the sides of the building and it looked like the roof had caved in. My legs began to shake - the whole thing could come down at any moment. He pulled me inside.
The smell hit immediately - bodily waste and the metallic sting of blood. When you’re around enough of it, it coats your throat and your nostrils and your mouth with that oily film - you can’t ever bathe enough to get it out. The hospital looked like it had been taken floor by floor - gore and peeling paint flecked every surface.
We entered a courtyard that looked like it had been knocked out of the center of the building, merging it into a smaller courtyard that had originally been built in. I looked up and could hardly see the sky through the clouds of flies. It was nauseating, but Youssef continued to pull me along, until he finally could show me what he wanted me to see.
It was Ismail. A noose ran tight around his neck, his face bloated, eyes and tongue popping out, swinging gently in the breeze. Youssef pointed at him with disdain.
“Do not forget, you are a married woman.”
\***
I was put to work as a nurse, answering to some of the other Doctors, who were also POWs. One was an American, I think, his skin was so blotchy and red, his grey hair falling out in clumps, eyes wild with exhaustion. I didn’t speak to him. He must have been there for a long time because he spoke Arabic fluently, and directed everything with this wiry energy.
I spoke to almost no one besides taking orders. The prioritized were the fighters injured in fighting or training exercises. If we had medicine, they were the ones who got it. If we were running short on water, they were the ones who got it. There weren’t many POWs, I think, because they never made it to hospitals. I worked there every day. At night, Youssef would try to take me.
By this point, I just let him, because I didn’t care. It was macabre, how we had shared this trauma and never spoke about it. Never even acknowledged it. I knew he was trying to get me pregnant again, because it didn’t look like he enjoyed what he was doing, not like before, when he seemed to take pleasure in hurting me. Now, it was automatic, it reminded me of The Handmaid’s Tale, which we had to read in highschool. I laughed at how the sex in that book was so weirdly portrayed. Sex with Youssef before had been this powerful, emotional connection that felt amazing. Now we were just two strangers slamming into each other.
The bigger issue for him was that...I don’t think he could actually do it anymore. He couldn't get hard, it frustrated him, and he got even more out of it. When he was hard enough to put it in, he couldn't finish. After a while he developed this bizzarre routine - he would chant, trying to psych himself up, sometimes, I'm not sure, pray? Hit himself, yell, call out other women's names, but nothing seemed to work.
Eventually his anger towards me came back. He belittled me, cursed me out. Told me I was useless, a lousy lay, a waste. He got more aggressive, trying to hurt me, but none of it really mattered. In a perverse way, I began to look forward to it. I had nothing, no agency, no control. But I could control what I gave him. And I gave him absolutely nothing.
That night he was high, I think he figured that would help. It did, because he was hard, but I refused to acknowledge him, refused to let my body react in pain or pleasure. I was determined, even when he ripped my hijab off and grabbed fistfuls of my hair and pulled my head towards his, reeking of sweat and piss.
"Your sister was a better fuck."
My mind went blank. I hardly spoke, so when I did, my jaw groaned and my tongue felt swollen and sweaty.
"What?"
He continued, digging his fingers into my throat.
"Melanie was a better screw. We had to put a pillow over her face so you wouldn't hear her squeal."
"You're a liar."
He giggled.
"We used to fuck whenever you were at class late, whenever you slept in on weekends, whenever her stupid boyfriend was out of the house. I would make her scream…"
My mind faded as he kept on. He was lying. How couldn't he be? He was saying it to psych himself up, to make himself feel like a man. He wasn't a man. He was a fucking liar.
His body shook and grunted - an ugly, throaty sound - as he came.
\***
I didn't get pregnant again right away. But bragging about his affair with Mel seemed to reinvigorate him. He began to take other slaves, and relayed to me how much better they were than I was. I don't know if any of them gave him a child, if they did he didn't say, but it seemed to become an obsession for him. To knock me up again. To make me give him a child.
Spring came, then summer decayed into fall, then the war came back, and that's when everything changed.
It was gradual, at first. There was a buildup in the number of fighters and their families. From the apartment, the other slaves and I could see columns of jeeps and trucks and vans headed towards the city center, where I knew they stored most of the weaponry and some of the higher value POWs, like the doctors, or people they wanted to ransom.
Soon, the apartments began to get way too crowded, so a lot of the women, including me, were relocated to the cliffs. Caves were carved out of the rock overlooking the sea. It startled me, momentarily, to think of their being a body of water this big that the town overlooked. The endless flat, baked land eventually becomes fixed in your mind's eye and it's hard to see past that perception. It was beautiful and serene in a way I don't remember having ever experienced. I'd never left Minnesota growing up, had never been traveling before, so to see that was a shock to my system.
The caves themselves had clearly been wired for people to live in for a long time. The fighters who relocated us and were stationed there had cellphone signals and WiFi, but those caves were off limits to us. I was hidden away in a larger cave filled with no less than thirty women and children - there was, basically, no personal or private room. And when the kids were taken away for their mandatory education every morning, a curtain of silence draped over everyone. Nobody talked, nobody emoted. We were always under their eye. I almost looked forward to going to the hospital to work. The only upside is that I rarely saw Youssef then.
The explosions rocked us out of our sleep one night. They were distant, the city was maybe five or ten miles away from us, so I figured that's what the bombers were targeting. The guards wouldn't let us out of the cave to see, but you could see how the inky, utterly black night sky lit up as though a giant phosphorescent lamp turned on. I felt like a deer in awe of headlights right before the car slammed into it.
The hospital volunteers were roused and picked up that night, including myself. As always, we were herded onto one of those small, windowless vans that became suffocatingly hot with everyone in close quarters. When we arrived, the hospital was alive with shrieks and moans and cries. Several buildings I remembered from before no longer existed, and the roads were choked with rubble, so the driver had to take a different route to get there. I didn't have much time to think on that - as soon as we got off we were herded into the main courtyard and put to work. Washing the blood off stumps, bandaging, restraining victims.
One wing was dedicated to the dead. In their tradition, the bodies are ceremonially washed before burial, allowing the family to say goodbye. What struck me, as much as anything, was how many fighters were kids, younger than I was before I got here. I wondered if they had any family - living or dead - who would want to be here, preparing them for the grave.
I was tasked with filling water basins and heating them over campfire stoves so that other fighters acting as attendants could clean the bodies. It was such a dissonant feeling - seeing these guys constantly acting macho and aggressive and violent treating their fallen with such morbid intimacy. I didn't know how to process that.
There was a steady stream of wounded and dead filling into the hospital throughout the night. I don't know how many times I made the trip to get water from the sump pit in the basement, but after a while the fighter watching me vanished, I think, to be of more use somewhere else. I only noticed his absence after carrying another basin up another flight of steps. My back was screaming, my knobby knees swollen and shaking, I had to stop to catch my breath, when I realized he wasn't at the top of the stairs, waiting for me.
He must have been called away for something, and clearly didn't care enough about me to keep watch. Having lost so much weight had hollowed out my face and flattened my body, and I had noticed that the men rarely looked at me with any interest anymore. Maybe that new won anonymity gave me this chance.
I knew they would notice if I didn't show up with the fresh basin, so I hoisted it up as I had been, and delivered it to the men washing the bodies, soapy bloodied water sinking into my socks. I gave a small nod and went back towards the basement. None of them looked my way.
The guard still wasn't there.
There was no way out of the basement. It was a hole. The only way out of the building that I knew was the way I came in, and if I went that way I'd be walking into the command station; there had to be another way out.
I briskly walked past the stairs headed to the basement down the darkened corridor ahead. There was no electricity, so all the electric and kerosene lamps were collected in the courtyard to light the work during the night. The corridor ahead was dark, a yawning throat. I lost my sense of sight in the black and had to feel along the cement walls as they snaked, terrified I would end up back where I started.
My heart started hammering when I heard voices up ahead in Arabic, and I stopped. There were two - a man and a woman. One of them was wracked with pain and fear. I was terrified, it must have been a fighter abusing one of the slaves. I had to help her - I couldn't let him ruin her. But if I tried to help, I would surely be executed, even if I weren't executed for wandering off. I wasn't pregnant now, there was no way anyone would advocate for my life. I inched forward, trying to hear them better -
"Please help me, I can't. It's too much, the pain. I cannot take it anymore."
That voice was male, and it sounded familiar.
"What do you have, to give?"
The second voice sounded like slimy, wet, like a fork being dragged through mud. I felt lightheaded and my ears started to itch, I held the wall with one hand and scratched my ears with the other. I could feel my heartbeat in my fingertips…
"By Allah, I will do anything."
There was a long silence as the man began to weep. The voices had to be close, they felt like they were just around the corner.
"I do not see anything worth giving. But yet…"
My neck and face began to grow cold as every hair on my body stood up. I could feel the wisps of air I breathed out crystallizing like a winter morning, the heat of that briefly warming my skin.
"A life, for a life."
"What?"
"Your soul is corrupted. It is sick, black, abominable. It is nothing to gift. Yet, your life, that is very precious. And it is all that I would want."
I slowly poked my head around the corner and saw two shadowy figures standing in the low depression of an Exit. Fuck. It was the only way out.
Everything felt cold. The walls glinted with frost even in the absence of light, no, there was some, something green and faint.
I slipped back around the corner. There was nowhere to go. If the figures came back this way, they would see me. They would have to exit if I had any chance of leaving myself.
And the cold...it was intolerable. I shoved my hand into my mouth to stop my teeth from chattering and giving me away.
"What do you say?"
The voice sounded like a low shriek in my head; I almost jumped, I swear it sounded as if it came from right next to me. I could taste my blood in my mouth.
"Please, Mother, forgive me."
For a moment it felt as if all the sound in the world had been sucked out of it, and then a low wailing scream, muffled by a hand, and an awful tearing sound, like a bear tearing into an elk.
The scream roared in my head and I dropped to my knees, pressing my bloodied hand over my ear, closing my eyes, it felt like my brain was going to explode.
The pressure abated suddenly, and there was no noise. The temperature started to creep up, my breath didn't fog up anymore. I stared at my hands, and felt something running from my nose. Snot and blood.
Then the sound. A wet crunch and slurp, echoing around me. Standing up, I could see the cold green light glimmering still on the walls, even as the frost melted, and the illumination died.
What the fuck happened?
I learned around the corner.
It was her.
She was standing there, over the man who had been guarding me. His body looked desiccated, as if he had been dead a thousand years, his tongue lolled limply as he stared back towards me from his back. His chest had been split open, and she was standing there hungrily, pulling out his innards and smearing them over her face. Not even eating them. Bathing in them. Her eyes were alive with a green fire.
She looked at me.
submitted by Jjustingraham to Odd_directions [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 04:44 MannyTrejo 'Which media would you consider a life-changing experience?'

Originally inspired by a Reddit thread regarding media and how it changed our lives, I invite anyone interested in sharing that which caused them reflection or provided lessons that later proved relevant to do the same. I since expanded that far beyond the limitations of Reddit comments here: https://www.facebook.com/notes/manuel-ignacio-mier-aguirre/which-media-would-you-consider-a-life-changing-experience/129415288891059/
"Lest I forget to mention my own failure from following the same route despite The Wall by Pink Floyd being one of the pieces of audiovisual media I’ve most watched throughout my lifetime. My younger brother had perhaps already built The Wall within himself, by his own failures whether born from his use of worse substances than any I’d dare ever consume during our adolescence, or facing other trials lacking my or another’s wisdom I neglected to share distracted by other substances and my own failures to retreat and regroup effectively to tackle the problem I’d faced after being denied so many other paths I’d have chosen before the one I’m on. For months he’d pestered me with radical propaganda and politically-sensitive philosophy over topics I’d already come to terms with, and I left that vector of intrusion open feeling concern for his plight and worry, yet after a former amorous connection from abroad offered we meet in Spain, he revealed my folly for trusting in him and his true intention. Immediately after she had so offered we might meet, I was faced with threats by my brother and friends of his intimidating me, attempting to coerce me into accepting Catholicism with claims of violence should I not, falsely accusing me of being guilty of sin worthy of such punishment which left me perplexed.
Confused at the true source of the attack, the disrespect against me caused me to lose my respect usually shown to just about everyone else hoping to incite reprisal from the source, and I do apologize for any offenses made as brick by brick I built The Wall. And just as I built The Wall despite consuming that media many a time, another book I was reading at the time, Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon held the answer for the paranoia I'd came to suffer upon detecting Maoism to be the potential source yet lacking knowledge of Maoist movements beyond Chairman Mao Zedong's history in China, “If they can get you asking the wrong questions, they don't have to worry about answers.” And so, though I still disagree with some actions taken, yet have come to understand better why and decided to simply not even worry about them, only concerned the same doesn't repeat itself here against good people like myself, I do apologize for any offense to the states of China and Russia, and others closer-by but not former President Calderone, because fuck you I’m not going to die in a revolution for your rightwing Catholic oligarchy against leftist Catholic oligarchs, but I’m above the idea of bothering to waste my time dealing with you. You'll get your apology for my public denouncement of your foolish words, whether read by you or any of yours or not, when you rescind them apologetically for your desire to see violence while remaining safely away from it, or when you cross that border to be the point of the lance rifle in your own Catholic hands, where I would perhaps follow you if only out of curiosity to how this turn of events concludes, since already two American military veterans I believe better men than you have been jailed in Venezuela for one of your two desired revolutions. And I'd accept your apology, since 2020 and the pandemic has left many of us feeling our worlds become smaller and turned irater for it, some with too much time to think, others left to deal with the stress of keeping society running for the rest. Knowing the true enemy likely to be local organized crime, since even some IP addresses that attempted to penetrate some of my accounts purportedly from those nations may have actually been masked by a proxy. just like a virus the June of 2019 which left me having to reformat 2 hard drives and a few USB sticks had changed my browser language to Russian. Yet I'll withhold from claiming academic, private, or state collusion with organized mafiosos with cyber-crime capabilities akin to the Cali Cartel that succeeded the Medellin Cartel of Columbia, more successful for their more subtle manipulation and corruption of public or private officials compared to the previous cartel's foolishly brazen suppression turned outright war to maintain control, I learned another potential true enemy aside from organized crime I’d always defied and neglected to join despite my minor irregular moderate drug use was French Maoism of the cause the leader was claimed to represent by his peons, but not the nation of France, for French Maoists have also been involved with religious extremism and Maoist terrorism in India and have been deported from India for colluding with violent radical groups, or perhaps both of us as leftists were just turned against each other for looking upon the other through a scanner darkly, and not seeing eye to eye to converse over the same worries.
For even that same amorous connection I came to blame, to accuse with thoughts born of paranoia, to claim her in-collusion with Cambridge Analytica, the case closing up the same month she offered we meet, to claim her the Spanish, to have selected to influence a man into pacifism against soft imperialism through his favorite book, a historical fiction and science fiction novel, after noticing his household’s peculiar Amazon book orders. To claim her nation, among the highest consumers of Latin American cocaine, which she shuns as she does all drug use, yet claiming her through that exchange to be but in-collusion to England’s latest mind control plot after having Cambridge Analytica and its ploys to manipulate public perception through social media and psychological profiling facilitated by artificial intelligence shut down. A scheme reminiscent of England’s control over Chinese slave labor in the 1800’s, where the East India Company would impose opium addiction upon Chinese workers then offer to only pay them with opium and not any currency for their hard labor, but inversed, to better control the flow of cocaine even given to race dog Great Danes yet claiming the source guilty of that few among their populace buy gratuitously. To claim like when the Jews were thrust just having faced the horrors of the Holocaust into their ancestral birth lands to face enemies Great Britain had angered leaving them advisors and equipment left over from the Second World War to make of a colony they could hardly defend themselves, a potential ally should they survive, which they did yet I'll not be twisted against enemies deceived into thinking me 'the rich,' not look upon you so kindly should I survive them in a manner so valiantly to be like Israel continues to stand proudly today. Knowing my fate then would be more like Alan Turing's, a homosexual man vital to the war effort against Third Reich Germany for being a grand mathematician, to be chemically castrated after I'd stopped being useful same as she no longer invited me to share my physical desire for her and hers immediately vanished when I lost my cool and became irate, no longer a source of tranquility for her and words of praise for her that would once leave a flustered woman telling me I should write romance novels. And so, a tribe from which the man Jesus Christ of Nazareth hailed, after over two thousand years of being run from place to place to take up whatever jobs were allowed to them, even chancing upon banking out of luck the Christians of Europe didn’t like math because it was hard and allowed the poorer among them to see harsher truths when analyzing the statistics, till finally they should take up the sword to defend their ancestral home and never again be run from anywhere; A warrior empire tribe along the Southwest coast of Mexico was coaxed into shedding the obsidian by the book inspired by the man Jesus Christ, or the many he represents impaled upon the cross, perhaps of the last ones unconquered, an Atheist of mixed race, to be pacified by only a more elaborate science fiction tale and love for a woman. Till she recanted such offer we meet finally after 7 years, and only recently could we reconcile, yet despite her insistence we remain friends, I did feel best we cut the cord so I may better move on, and only did plead she remain open to perhaps making another plan for Spain should I successfully progress from the current pit I’d been led into and allowed myself to be fooled into. Still I’m glad we could speak face to face to quell my paranoid fears, and to once-more blaspheme as she’d coaxed me into joining her in a chant of ‘Fuck God,’ now relieved that perhaps my worse fear of criminal mafia-state collusion to replace me in her life and the potential political and economic plans I had entertained for our relationship was perhaps excessive, lest it be proven true by exactly that happening, by a criminal or someone preferred by a criminal for their ignorance or silence seeing the same but knowing me being innocent of complicit complacency or action with crime being a risk since I’m also prone to pointing out other’s acts of violent or abusive crime against women and vulnerable people such as children and the mentally ill like myself.
And I forgave her as she revealed to me how powerless she’d felt to make me feel better, to calm me, to divert the topic as I remained ragefully fixated with a vindictive appetite, leading to her not communicating sooner out of fear I’d simply bite a hand that would once caress me again. And she forgave me, but wisely made clear it shall not be forgotten, properly since another act to a former lover nearby also caused that shock with reality and reflection I required to ease myself out of a self-indoctrination born out of my own psychological and philosophical knowledge fused with theology, not structured to a title, but ample enough to do such. When I, knowing the threat against my potentially demanded by a French Maoist, with no relation to Chinese Maoism as I’d learned, if it was indeed a Maoist and not a criminal using the name as a mask, since even FARC was a criminal organization despite noble leftist intent twisted towards violence for financing through drug sales, responded to a younger lover’s claims and desires to accept offers from a French man she’d met before to leave for France prior to finishing her preparatory education. Where I feared like many woman with their education disrupted here often are, she would be prostituted abroad, yet I neglected the fact the same crime is committed to others here in Mexico by Mexicans, not just foreigners, still her tears and angered accusations of me a Nazi and a patan after I’d answered to her it was her Patriotic duty to remain and finish at least her preparatory education caused me to reflect upon my value of Liberty, and that I shall not become a hypocrite, by denying another their liberty. Another book, The Life and Death of Socrates, reflected upon concerning this, where Socrates was made to commit suicide for espousing the societal values of religion yet denying the fantasy such supernatural beings exist leading to accusations of perverting the youth, I found myself in another similar position as an Atheist also espousing rule of law yet wishing for some minor changes to it, in a place where power has corrupted rule of law and institutions academic, private, and public at many levels in some places, despite the current administration’s efforts to cleanse this and make of Mexico a changed place, still ongoing some chancing upon the PRI’s collusion being revealed to take their place or so I believe, likely without the upper administration noticing nor allowing this yet the executive power that is the Mexican eagle and the institutions of police and military might has too often come to be ensnared by many coiled snakes about its talons as it struggles to snap at them with a tired beak one by one.
I've since fixed the security errors that made past cyber-attacks against me possible, fearing our personal data to have been intruded, to laugh off the attempts to brute force into my Outlook account knowing the attempts require a second device to authenticate log-on, after months spent seeding misleading details as a joke and hope to call the attention of more eyes to this direction, still the grandest joke remains one played upon myself, as many were acts of disrespect I'd not have committed if I'd known with clearer mind I'd still be around months later, and not enslaved an indoctrinated drone to poorly paid farm labor for the foreseeable future. Thinking myself so clever for claiming falsely to be a Nazi and adopting ideals from another National Socialist movement that founded a sovereign nation and its ascent to increased geopolitical influence, crafting a narrative born not just of conscious negation of another side to it, but also my perceptual barriers lacking sympathy to the Catholic church particularly when threatened by Catholic Extremists, till recently I shamefully learned that the Polish Catholics whom shared the Jews plight against the Nazis were more than few I'd known of, but to be in-actuality in at least the tens of thousands to have perished alongside other political dissidents in concentration camps in a manner I'd never allow repeated here, the number of official Polish Catholic clergy slain by the Nazis, aptly the same number as the year of my birth dated anno domini after the life of Christ, 1992. Still the only Abrahamic religion I'll accept, should an offer be enticing to join them, or I face such desperation potentially with another lapse of mental illness not wishing to return to my own tailored self-indoctrination since it just made me more enraged and insane designed to take advantage of recently onset psychosis to negate the possibility of someone else indoctrinating me into Christianity, shall be Judaism. Till then, I'll remain a Taoist, and a Humanist Atheist, with some ideals adopted from the Sikh and their belief that all Gods are real if only in how they affect the minds of my potential enemies should they not turn friends, or leave me be, and my own, perhaps will remain a Taoist Atheist till I die. I’ll never again make such stupid insensitive jokes till now uncharacteristic of me since maturing beyond adolescence, now that I’ve got my better mind mostly back despite some damage leaving me with a difficulty to focus on arithmetic and programming, I was making strides of progress previously unseen towards last year before all these events spiked my mental health problems that have been usually more subtle since preadolescence. My intent was to claim myself one to incite the group that threatened me to act on their claims, then reveal that eugenicists, as that cause claimed, even attempted to persuade me towards, are indeed Nazis.
Ha-ha, look, its Dr. Sun Yat-sen but with a 16 year old companion in a state 16 is age of consent compared to one of the real man of past history, however appropriate it was at that time and place and not now, and his 13 year old wife, its Adolf Hitler but not a hypocrite since his ultra-nationalism did not become corroded by racism, to be a defense for the rights of Mexicans of every color and religion, its Cobra Commander as a playful reference to a bisexuality and sexual experience yet to be entirely completed, the former I've had to abandon, preferring women where most places that would embrace it immediately find me with many men encroaching upon my space where I'd father few if any, preferably only those ruder, meaner, more muscular, and bearded much like myself. I prefer sexual fluidity theory, so I can lie to everyone and uninviting homosexuals claiming myself heterosexual, and perhaps reveal that to the right homosexual that could fulfill either my dreams of a Francis Bacon the painter's physically abusive relationship, knowing the violence just fantasy better treated, or an older guide and tutor much like Ancient Greek apprenticeship was to some young men, the penetration of knowledge connected to physical act, to be taken as I would a woman since male bodies don't excite my member yet I'd not shy from another's desires aided by a woman's presence or chemical assistance, and always a heterosexual to all women except to lesbians who'd know otherwise. Since it'd be temporary even if come to be a life-long friendship, my marriage if it is found, if this state deserves my seed, to be with a woman whose chosen me without ulterior influence same as I've chosen her, meeting by chance as I met my first love, an English-Australian woman and other lovers since. Luckily I found a better stance than LGBTQ flaming pride I still support, for them, regarding my own sexuality with sexual fluidity theory, when I dusted off the 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell,' abandoned by the United States Military to be found by me at a Salvation Army like the many artefacts that adorned our family's first apartment and house in the United States. Ha-ha, look, its Diogenes de Sinope laughing his ass off at the many academics claiming him stupider because of their skewed perspective judging too harshly by the past to see that they want to see so they don't reflect upon their own sin, looking at irrelevant old documents, and through a scanner darkly. Snickering at the creatives claiming themselves original then proving otherwise for claiming my lack of originality where I don’t have to criticize them such, simply allowing them to put the label on their heads, while putting words in my mouth to safeguard their egos. Still, I do protect my ego excessively sometimes as well, but only because such systematic abuse makes it necessary, I’ll turn off the lantern when I’m confronted with honest men and women, and my disrespect was also because often the most honest men and women are those the rest would find armed and away from them to uphold their safety with the safety off. And laughing quietly with a small tear at how abuse has become so thorough and appropriation so in the hands of the abusers, at those who'd reveal themselves the oppressor for getting mad someone playfully take the mask of Ximen Bao, when he is more like a villager pointing out the elders and the village priestesses' abuse of women, Ximen Bao's mask though not belonging any one person, now that he is long gone but ancient Chinese history of a talented politician and hydraulics engineer to have tended to many overflowing rivers and removed institutionalized systematic abuse of women hidden by religion, perhaps more appropriately a certified software engineer or hacker, and uniformed policemen, policewomen, and uniformed military or their equivalent properly taking the place of Ximen Bao's guards and soldiers who drowned the village elders abusing women and the priestesses aiding them by selecting and coercing women for Habao the river God. Or those who'd become irate I'd take the mask of Diogenes de Sinope for doing the same when japing at other philosophers with more credential, where that mask belongs to those without academic title, even those with a criminal past like the real man's past as an exile for vandalizing, shaving off silver bits from Greek currency to accumulate and resell, but there is the mask of a particular Hebrew himself I'll never claim myself to be like, nor bigger than, not dare to take the mask of since that man born to woman of a man's seed showed a humble man could conquer an empire.
'And the UN, UNnazi-ed the world forever,' I could write an essay picking apart Idiocracy but it was not life changing, perhaps more the film inspired by events in Timothy Cavendish's life enjoyed by a clone broken free from her religious indoctrination before her confession and demise never knowing the connection to Timothy Cavendish, yet this slave freed from religious indoctrination, despite many attempts to kick my family further down the socioeconomic ladder back to where my parents began for their sons not accepting the commonly held ideals and their daughter being troublesome however smart they all are, did enjoy many more pleasures than poor Somni-451 did in that future cyberpunk North Korea. Forever grateful an emotional and intellectual connection, though it did not come to be physical as she'd once wished when inviting me to Spain, chanced into my life sharing my own favorite book as her bible once.
And as I stared into the void of recent human history to see that which scared her away briefly to leave me feeling as if the globalist liberalism we'd shared had abandoned me to face religious extremism alone, the void stared back at me as my mouth watered before the roast upon the flames and delusions of a conquered Central America, much like Shadowrun’s post-Mexican state Aztlan, a result of a Mexican conquest of everything South down to a border shared uneasily with Amazonia at Bogota, Columbia. To turn of Central America that I was threatened with; poorly paid agricultural slave labor so Mexico may more freely pursue my own dream, an increasingly technocratic Nationalist Democratic state, which had previously been a softer more liberal and peaceful thought in the back of my mind as I struggled to embark on my own path to at least becoming stable and financially independent. And I took step by step the same path as The Wall’s protagonist, perhaps born of a psychotic break Roger Waters himself may have suffered, despite having watched him play it twice in Mexico City, the second time around with a bassist Second Gulf War veteran wheelchair-bound after the loss of his legs playing with him on-stage at the Zocalo.
Though I'd not accuse everyone, nor even everyone complicit knowing deception to be so possible in an informatic age where recently we learned deepfakes possible to super-impose the image of another over the original in a video, due to a scandal where celebrity women were edited into pornographic videos, showing us this is possible for any other motive, but that's why it's called the fucking mob kids, some places are clean, but where it penetrates it can come to ensnare and even become everyone unknowingly promoting and acting out the agenda of the few in charge of public perception and belief. Still, I'd always shunned away from power, fame, and riches, wouldn't reject them to do good, but never was interested, preferring to enjoy what I enjoy in-private, preferring to keep my ploys to influence more subtle and aimed at hopefully positive outcomes, until lately when I so erratically just plain stopped giving a fuck since after I'd chosen a brief dream among the many other dreams I held as an indecisive child for my future the schemes of power and corruption I'd hoped to avoid doing so still intruded upon my life, and I came to entertain the idea of my future to be a gray-haired Nationalist man someday vying for political power to cleanse a state of corruption, thinking how to come-up with my own catchy way to say 'La mafia del poder.' Wondering if jails still keep libraries somewhere, if you can still get your law degree to begin a potential political career while in prison, since some of my more brazen attempts at calling attention did have that as a preferable outcome over being tortured till I accept a false confession and Catholicism before being made to work a farm as a slave. Disappointed and feeling betrayed over having been treated such by another Leftism movement, supposedly a French Maoist among Mexican Maoists, myself a male Feminist, Democratic Socialist, and Market Socialist with some right-leaning Nationalism also keeping that Market Socialism aligned in some interests concerning not going too far with Libertarianism since doing so pushes everyone attempting some regulation towards wishing for violent revolution I still shun, ultimately being of the Center Left politically, and a man who would have enjoyed and loved to do agricultural work however grueling during his semester off even at low pay provided he wasn't forced into it and could leave come the end of the season."
Full post: https://www.facebook.com/notes/manuel-ignacio-mier-aguirre/which-media-would-you-consider-a-life-changing-experience/129415288891059/
submitted by MannyTrejo to socialistprogrammers [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 04:41 yougoRave Collab on a surf video? Voiceover!

Any film makers out there making a surf documentary? If so I’d love to collaborate. I’m a voice artist and would be willing to narrate your film for free. I’m hoping it sparks some creative juice and gets me stoked for my next session.
submitted by yougoRave to surfing [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 04:29 throwRAncpbf Update: My boyfriend's friend filmed his girlfriend without her knowing and showed his friends. I said it was sickening and unforgivable, and my boyfriend told me to "get off my high horse".

Original post: https://www.reddit.com/relationship_advice/comments/i3xhoe/my_boyfriends_friend_filmed_his_girlfriend/
This post is very long, I’m processing it and can’t write down my thoughts well at the moment.
That weekend I ended up going back because my prescriptions and camera are at his place due to them being unsafe at my place (my parents look through all my things). I still loved him and when I saw him that day I decided I didn’t want to give up my relationship over something that neither of us got a chance to discuss fully and respectfully. I was in complete denial that the man I thought I knew would defend something like that and I selfishly decided to live in denial and ignorance until I had the courage to bring it up and face whatever answer he would give me.
That was a few weeks ago. 2 weekends ago we were having drinks at his place and listening to music, discussing a singer and his past allegations of abuse. I stupidly brought up my abuse in the past and we talked about it. There were two incidents I mentioned which I don’t want to repeat here.
We were both drunk. When he’s drunk, he has no inhibitions on what he says and behaves badly. For some reason, he decided one of my abusers were worse than the other. I tried to tell him my experience and why, to me, one affected me more than the other. At no point did I say one was worse, and I don’t ever intend to decide which was “worse”. He took this as me justifying my abuse and called me ridiculous for thinking how I did and that I can’t see how one was worse than the other. To me both were traumatic, I wasn’t and will never compare one to the other to decide which one was worse, and me talking about my experience wasn’t me justifying it.
He got angry that I wouldn’t agree that one was worse than the other and asked me how I could “defend” one abuser over the other. I wasn’t doing this. In complete frustration, I asked him how he could defend his friend for what he did.
He got even angrier at that. He refused to answer the question and kept trying to ridicule me for describing one of my experiences as more traumatic than the other. I kept persisting for an answer, he stood by what he said the first time and defended his friend. He said in the 90s illegal filming and getting your friends to hide in a closet without the other person’s consent to watch them was widespread and accepted and not as bad as it is now. He said he found the incident amusing and funny because he couldn’t believe it actually happened. He said when he told me the first time he thought I would “be cool about it” because I was one of his friends. I asked him what he expected my response would be when he told me – he said he thought I would also find it funny. I asked him if he really found it funny, and he said yes – he thought it was a funny amusing “anecdote”. I told him I felt sick. He laughed and said these words “you are all woke, you young people. To you everything you think is right. Only you know right from wrong, you’re always correct”. I asked him if it was his sister or daughter, how would he feel? He said it would be unacceptable. I asked him if he found it ok because the girl wasn’t his friend and he said yes.
I couldn’t believe it. I left. The verbal abuse from him continued through text. I told him I was leaving because I couldn’t be with a man who found sexual crimes amusing and funny. He told me the reason I was leaving because I couldn’t accept that one of my abusers was worse than the other, and I had to bring up his friends to “deflect”. He kept repeating this for an hour. I asked him one last time if he really justified the abuse and if he thought because he didn’t know the girl it was ok. I asked if his friend came up to him now and showed him a tape he filmed, would he find it ok. He said these words: “I will always defend my friends, that includes u and all my other friends, for better or for worse. That is how I am.”
I was sitting outside while this happened. I went back to get my prescriptions and camera before leaving for good. I was shocked to find him still drinking and took his beer off the couch to throw it away when I left. He was furious. He grabbed the bottle from my hands and in the process it spilled on the carpet. I haven’t seen that much anger in him before. He told me to fuck off, because I disrespected his place and that he never wanted to see me again. Somehow, despite it all, I felt extremely guilty for ruining his carpet and sent him money to pay for cleaning it.
I left with all my things. I lost all track of time, at this point it was nearly 2 am, I was a long way from home and there would be no public transport home for another 2.5 hours. My phone was on 3% and I was desperately trying to book an uber and find a safe hotel to stay at for the night before it died. I was waiting for the hourly night bus to the city outside his apartment when 4 men got out of a taxi and started cat calling me and one asked where I was going, If I wanted a ride, if I would go to a hotel with him to sleep with him. They grabbed my ID and looked at my name and place of work and started asking me about my workplace (my ID was in my hand because my transport card is attached). The bus arrived and they waved it away. That was the last bus I could catch until transport started up again. They weren’t being aggressive or touching me but I panicked and called him. My boyfriend came over and took me back to his apartment to stay until I had transport, and to charge my phone.
I had nowhere else to go so I said ok. He was still drinking, 12 beers in, and still angry. He told me to sit down or leave. I sat. He tormented me for an hour about my abuse and about how I was ridiculous for “defending” my abusers and trying to insult his friends. I just sat there and cried until he said I could go to sleep. He kept drinking, 16 beers in he finally went to sleep because he had no more to drink.
The next morning I tried to leave quietly but it woke him. He asked me why I was leaving, that it was unfair and that he wanted a chance to explain. I told him why I was leaving and he stood by his view that me bringing up his friend’s abuse was the reason the argument started and the reason the night went badly, that I was trying to attack his friends. He took no responsibility for what he did and didn’t apologise for anything. He kept insisting it was unfair.
The next week I told him I don’t want him contacting me again. He asked for a chance to explain. He sent me texts addressing both of his friend’s crimes and said they were wrong, that everyone who watched were in the wrong, and that he was in the wrong for not walking out of the closet and stopping it as soon as he knew what was happening.
He asked me what I thought was the reason for the agreement. He said, again, that it was me who started it because I brought up his friend. But he also said he was in the wrong because he was drunk and said things he didn’t believe (his views on his friend’s actions). He wanted to share “50/50” blame. He said he’d been a bad boyfriend and did bad things that night and apologised for them. He sent me back the money for the carpet (the carpet was ok, otherwise I would have still insisted on paying).
He said he’s willing to talk about it respectfully with me and wants us to be able to do that in the future. He said if I ever have something to discuss I should choose a time when we’re both sober and are in the mindset to discuss. I agree I brought it up at a terrible time, but I don’t think drinking is an excuse for his actions that night.
He says he’ll change if I can change with him. He said he doesn’t want something like that night to ever happen again. I don’t know what to do or think. I feel lost and worthless at the moment. I feel like I’m still being manipulated and I don’t know if I can trust him to change.
He's made me happier than anyone else but also more miserable than anyone else. He is currently my only source of happiness, when our relationship is good, I don't know if I'll be any happier or worse off I give that up.
TL;DR: I brought it up while drinking, he said he thought his friend’s actions were funny and amusing and that it wasn’t considered a bad thing in the 90s. A few days later he apologised and told me his friend was in the wrong, and that he was in the wrong for staying silent. He said he gave an “unintelligent” answer because he was drunk and wants another chance. I don’t know what to believe.
submitted by throwRAncpbf to relationship_advice [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 04:14 banshee_chungus Need to find a degree that suits my interests AND opens me to a wide range of careers.

I am a 17 y/o freshman student who is currently studying film production in university. Recently, I had come to realize that a film degree is virtually useless anywhere else apart from the film industry. Therefore, If I fail to make it big in cinema, there literally won't be any other career for me in store considering if I only study film. I also found out that one does not need to go to film school to become a director (i.e. Quentin Tarantino), thus I would be wasting four years studying something that I could have done so independently on my own time.
My plan as of right now is to switch to another major that fits within my realm of interests and leads to jobs that pay very well whilst pursuing film as a hobby that could POSSIBLY become big given luck. Film would still be my #1 interest, and the other degree a "PLAN B" in case things don't work out. The problem now is that I do not know what this other career of interest is, hence I am lost.
Below, I am going to list some interests that may help you help me determine this "mystery" major:
Here are some hobbies of mine (I don't know whether this may help or not):
What I look for in a career is one that necessitates my interests while providing me enough money to have financial freedom. I want to live happily without having to worry about debts and not being able to afford things. I don't want nor need to be a multi-millionaire, I just want a life in which I am happy living modestly in a place where I want to live and where I'm working in a job that brings me joy, a sense of achievement, and one in which I am creating something or contributing to something BIG.
submitted by banshee_chungus to needadvice [link] [comments]


2020.09.28 04:10 -K_S_T- Question about Norman "switching"

I haven't watched the ending to this show in a long time so forgive me if I'm missing something here...but why does he become evil and murderous when he switches into his mother? Does he view her as evil? I mean he always has those hallucinations of her telling him to do screwed up shit. So why her? Why see her or become a monster as her? When he first killed his father, did he see himself as her too...or is that just what made him snap and become who he is?
Sorry for all the questions. I study film and television a lot, along with mental/brain disorders...and no offense to anyone (I love the show) but the series is extremely confusing when it comes to the mental illness he has (if he really has DID, I can't remember if they say he does or if it's just fan talk) but again...as I said I study these topics a lot and just want to know every detail in the things I watch.
submitted by -K_S_T- to BatesMotel [link] [comments]


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