Gong cha hours near me

Hello there, I understand the dilemma. Both are such cool options, right!? But maybe we can brainstorm and figure out which one we like more. Perhaps we get frustrated and decide we need to do both to experiment to figure out what we like more. But of course, before that I hope you will turn out to be someone important enough to me to do these with you. Beyond that, I guess I am just looking to get to know someone amazing like you. So reveal yourself, please! On a separate note, I am a scientist working in some random artificial intelligence thingamajigs in medicine (for more technically interested ones - we do machine learning) after finishing uni. And no, we do not wear lab coats. I absolutely love what I do and where I am. To be fair, I love science in any form.
Some random tidbits about me - - One of my claim-to-fame moments till now has been being at loo next to a Nobel laureate. - I love to read. On some weekends, I sneak away to different cafés, libraries, parks, river banks, and other places in my city to read alone. A dream of mine is to have a personal library at some point!!! - I am into running, hiking, rambling, biking, and squash. In addition, I am always keen on checking out new sports, now onto Eton Fives! Also I really enjoy exploring outdoors, generally with friends. - I enjoy cooking, even though I am very slow at it and am certain that I am not very good at it either. Bonus happiness though if I am doing it with friends. - I am very close to my family. And I am the silliest (and definitely the cheekiest) one among them. - Regarding music, I listen to a bit of everything, depending on my mood. Having said that, more often I find myself listening to classical and indie. Some of my favourite classical composers include Brahms, Vivaldi, and Debussy. My city has an incredible music scene, so I sometime find it tough to stop myself from going to too many concerts!! - I have seen some posts including their MBTI or enneagram type. So if you are interested in that - from all the times I have given the MBTI test, I have been an ENTJ. Similarly for the enneagram tests I have been a number 3. Though I believe it is difficult to profile someone based on just one type alone. - Here are some more random clichéd things I like. I love going to a wide variety of museums (from art to natural history and more) and spending hours getting lost inside. My personal record till now is to go to four museums on the same day (yes, it was stupid, no, I do not regret it at all). With friends, I like exploring independent cafés and sampling hot chocolates.
If you have read the until this long, thank you for that!!! I did not want to shorten the length. Maybe you and I have some common interests! Or perhaps we do not share any common interests at all!?!?! No matter what, I am waiting for your message and getting excited for the fun experiments ahead with you.
Good day to you and cheerio!

So yeah. Title sums it up. My mother and father divorced when I was rather young. Once he married my stepmother they slowly became JWs and eventually brought my sister into the fold.
Now, granted, dad tried once to convert me once I was 18. I was in my teenage edgelord athiest phase then, so it didn't go so well. Other than a comment here or there, it's not been much of a problem. I get along fine with my JW fam for the most part.
I was at my sister's house, and he was in town for the weekend. It was just a regular family gathering, until my bro-in-law and father started edging towards the conversion talk.
This time it was my BIL doing most of the talking mainly because my father tends to get a little temperamental and, rightly so, that ain't gonna do any favors. My sis chimed in once or twice, but she's much like my father so she was basically shushed. My BIL is a lot more civil and is trying to come from a ground of understanding, which I do appreciate. Basically some things we touched on were:
-Prophecy. Basically he's all about the Book of Daniel and the 1914 stuff. I've not looked too much into it, but I do know it's pretty damn easy to fudge numbers so wouldn't be surprised that's going on there. Basically "world is getting worse by the day, etc etc, so much killing, people can't even leave their doors unlocked anymore". My main rebuttal to this, having not been familiar with all the particular maths was that the world has always been a rather rough place. The only difference is now with 24 hour news cycles and the internet, we can hear just how bad shit really is everywhere rather than most of the news never making it beyond the community it actually affected.
-Death and Afterlife. The one that really shocked my father in particular is that I'm not quite afraid of death. Do I want to die? No, but I know it's gonna happen at some point so I'm not going to fear it. I think he took it as a personal insult, like I didn't want to live forever with him, but... yeah living forever kind of sounds dull tbh. I feel it cheapens the life we have, and what will you even do for eternity?! It'll get boring at some point. I straight up told him sleeping forever sounds cool enough to me. BIL started making some points about how death "feels" unnatural, which I just simply said "I don't agree with that view". I'm guessing this line of discussion is meant to play upon fears of death/attachment to loved ones. I brought up that, while I'm not as strongly of an atheist as I was in my teenage years, I have mostly found solace in Buddhist lines of philosophy (I wouldn't say I'm a practicing Buddhist, but as far as a moral/philosophical framework it's the thing that has clicked the most with me). Particularly philosophies on attachment, so this line of discussion kind of fell flat for them.
A couple other things I touched on were Biblical history (BIL legit didn't know the OT is from the Torah), translation errors, and so on. Either way, it seems like there's being a push to convert me again. I was taken a bit more off guard so I don't think I was able to make a lot of the stronger explanations/points that I would have liked, but I suppose reading more and more on this sub will give me a better understanding of things to look out for.
Anyways, that's enough rambling. It's just something I had to type out and share somewhere, this seems the place to do it!

Bf went out fishing after work. Left a 12 pack in the fridge. He asked me to save him some beers for when he got home.
Well the beers are gone boyo. I’ve scraped all the coke bags and straws, chasing with beers. No beers left.
But when I called and admitted I drank all 12 beers in under 3 hours, he told me he had whiskey for us. What an angel. Bless his heart ❤️❤️❤️

Hi everyone! I've had my girl for a few years but when I got her (and when I upgraded to her 40B tank) under tank heating pads were still the go to and I had only heard of Deep Heat Projectors recently. None of the reptile stores near me carry dhps or are particularly knowledgeable about leopard geckos, so I'm trying to shop online. I'll probably keep the uth until it gives out on me, but I want to add a DHP for her. What wattage should I purchase for her tank (40 gallon breeder tank)? And what can I buy to regulate the temperature? I have a thermostat for her uth, but I am unsure what I can use as an equivalent for the dhp. Also, what brands/models of dhps are good? I've only heard of and seen the arcadia ones. Thanks y'all! I'm usually better with research than this, but I've had a hard time answering these questions on my own.

Hi everyone! Mumma's with kids who have food allergies and attend childcare/kindeschool, how do you deal with the anxiety of them being safe out in the world? We recently had a scary day where bub reacted to peanut butter (in short - his lips were swollen, called ambulance, went to ER, they observed for few hours, referred us to allergy clinic and sent us home with EpiPen). I'm just breastfeeding him and scared to feed him anything else. He goes to childcare twice a week but I took day off and kept him home. The childcare he goes is egg and nut free so that gives me some hope. But my head is all over the place and I'm clueless and scared. Looking for reassurance that it's gonna be alright! Thanks for reading.

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If you are interested in Iman Gadzhi’s courses, contact us on:
Whatsapp/Telegram: +44 759 388 2116 (Telegram: multistorecourses)
Reddit DM to u/RequestCourseAccess
Email: silverlakestore[@]yandex.com (remove the brackets)

Contact me to get Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator by chatting me on +44 759 388 2116 on Telegram/Whatsapp.
I have Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator.
Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator course is one of the best products on how to start a marketing agency.
Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator includes over 50 hours of step-by-step training covering EVERY aspect of building an agency from scratch. This is almost a plug & play system with enough success stories to back it up! Signing clients, running Facebook ads, building out your team, on-boarding clients, invoicing, sales... this course has everything covered for you.
The topics inside Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator course include:

1. Agency Navigator course Core Curriculum
   
2. Custom E-Learning Platform For Agency Owners
   
3. Financial Planner, Revenue Calculator, Outreach Tracker & More Tools
   
4. Websites Templates, Funnels, Ads & More
   
5. Template Contracts, Sales Scripts, Agreements & More
   

The lessons in Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator will teach you how to:
- Starting Your Agency
- Finding Leads
- Signing Clients
- Getting Paid
- Onboarding Clients
- Managing Client Communication...
...and much, much more!
To get Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator contact me on:
Whatsapp/Telegram: +44 759 388 2116
Reddit DM to u/RequestCourseAccess
Email: silverlakestore[@]yandex.com (remove the brackets)

Contact me to get Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator by chatting me on +44 759 388 2116 on Telegram/Whatsapp.
I have Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator.
Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator course is one of the best products on how to start a marketing agency.
Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator includes over 50 hours of step-by-step training covering EVERY aspect of building an agency from scratch. This is almost a plug & play system with enough success stories to back it up! Signing clients, running Facebook ads, building out your team, on-boarding clients, invoicing, sales... this course has everything covered for you.
The topics inside Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator course include:

1. Agency Navigator course Core Curriculum
   
2. Custom E-Learning Platform For Agency Owners
   
3. Financial Planner, Revenue Calculator, Outreach Tracker & More Tools
   
4. Websites Templates, Funnels, Ads & More
   
5. Template Contracts, Sales Scripts, Agreements & More
   

The lessons in Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator will teach you how to:
- Starting Your Agency
- Finding Leads
- Signing Clients
- Getting Paid
- Onboarding Clients
- Managing Client Communication...
...and much, much more!
To get Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator contact me on:
Whatsapp/Telegram: +44 759 388 2116
Reddit DM to u/RequestCourseAccess
Email: silverlakestore[@]yandex.com (remove the brackets)

Contact me to get Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator by chatting me on +44 759 388 2116 on Telegram/Whatsapp.
I have Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator.
Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator course is one of the best products on how to start a marketing agency.
Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator includes over 50 hours of step-by-step training covering EVERY aspect of building an agency from scratch. This is almost a plug & play system with enough success stories to back it up! Signing clients, running Facebook ads, building out your team, on-boarding clients, invoicing, sales... this course has everything covered for you.
The topics inside Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator course include:

1. Agency Navigator course Core Curriculum
   
2. Custom E-Learning Platform For Agency Owners
   
3. Financial Planner, Revenue Calculator, Outreach Tracker & More Tools
   
4. Websites Templates, Funnels, Ads & More
   
5. Template Contracts, Sales Scripts, Agreements & More
   

The lessons in Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator will teach you how to:
- Starting Your Agency
- Finding Leads
- Signing Clients
- Getting Paid
- Onboarding Clients
- Managing Client Communication...
...and much, much more!
To get Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator contact me on:
Whatsapp/Telegram: +44 759 388 2116
Reddit DM to u/RequestCourseAccess
Email: silverlakestore[@]yandex.com (remove the brackets)

When I was getting started, an actor I knew gave me some really good advice. While deciding whether or not to take a certain role, consider three factors: the money, the show, and the people. If at least two of those things are good, accept the job. If they’re paying you well and you love the play, you won’t mind putting up with shitty people. If it’s a great show with a cast full of friends, but you’re not getting paid so well, that’s still alright, it’ll be artistically fulfilling. If it’s a bad show but you love the cast and you’re making money, you’ll probably have the time of your life making fun of the playwright backstage and laughing all the way to the bank.
What my friend failed to mention is that as an aspiring actor, you don’t usually get to be that picky. When I got the call from my agent that a production of The Bacchae was urgently seeking a new chorus member, all I could see were dollar signs. My survival job had just fallen through (the family I nannied for was moving upstate, insisting that Manhattan had just gotten “too dangerous” for their toddler), and my savings were only going to cover my rent for another month.
It was raining the day of my audition, and my train got delayed. I showed up panting (I had to run from the subway station) and my hair a disaster. Luckily, in The Bacchae, the chorus is full of… well… Bacchae. Fervent followers of Dionysus, wild women, drunk and running through the countryside. In the climax of the play, they crowd the protagonist in a frenzy, literally ripping him limb from limb.
I’ll never know if it was my frenetic energy from barely making it to the theater on time, or my actual acting, but I got the part. My costume fitting was the next day– they weren’t kidding about urgently needing a replacement. Which thrilled me, because I wasn’t kidding about urgently needing the money. At the fitting, I discovered something my agent failed to mention about the production: this wasn’t just any version of The Bacchae, it was a recreation– an attempt to perform the play in the traditional Greek style. In other words, everyone was wearing masks.
I’ve never been fond of masks. We had to do a few assignments with them in my college acting courses; covering your face can enhance the physicality of your body, something like that. But I never liked wearing them, or seeing other people wearing them. It wouldn’t be fair to call it a full-on fear, but the stiffness, the lack of expression, gives me a weird feeling in my stomach. And wearing one, your field of vision limited, your mouth covered, making it harder to breathe, harder to project your voice– I don’t like it. It’s as simple as that.
But I needed the money. My costume wasn’t ugly, per se, just strange: a long white dress, or maybe toga is a better word, the fabric about the thickness of a burlap sack. My mask, stark white, paper mache, covering my entire face except my eyes, the mouth carved to imitate a grin. No shoes. My hair tucked into a wild black wig– we wore wigs, they explained to me, so the chorus could be identical, indistinguishable. We moved as one, spoke as one, and were meant to look like one. They even made sure to cast women of the same height. In our costumes, it was impossible to tell which of us was which.
It didn’t help that I was an outsider to the rest of the cast, joining the show weeks into rehearsals. Everyone seemed annoyed that they had to teach me the blocking, the inflection of the lines (so my voice didn’t stick out from the other chorus girls), and where to go backstage during scenes with no chorus. A few people tried to be nice to me, but quickly gave up when they realized I knew nothing about Greek theater, or masked theater, or the avant garde. My last show had been a regional production of Cats, for God’s sake. I was totally out of my element.
Things got especially sour when I tried to ask what had happened to the girl I was replacing. Nobody wanted to talk about it. People gasped when I brought it up. The clearest answer I got was a whispered, hesitant, “she fell,” but the person wouldn’t elaborate any further. The cast seemed superstitious, uncomfortable, like talking about her would cause them to suffer her fate: removal from the show. And it was clear that, aside from me, everyone else loved this show. The actor playing Dionysus, the couple of times he deigned to talk to me, just kept gushing about how honored he was to play this role, how electrifying it felt to put his history minor to use, to show people a piece of the world’s theatrical beginnings.
I thought the show was fine. Kinda boring, kinda scary. I don’t think I “get” The Bacchae. In brief, the story is about Dionysus, son of Zeus, disguised as a human. He and his followers (the chorus) show up in a town, but the leader of the town, Pentheus, is upset about it. He doesn’t understand why all these women are acting crazy, and he arrests Dionysus, not believing him to be an actual God. As punishment, Dionysus possesses Pentheus’s own mother with the same madness as his followers, and together, with their bare hands, they rip Pentheus apart. His mom walks back into town holding her son’s head, thinking it to be, in her madness, the head of a lion. When she realizes what she’s done, she is overwhelmed by grief, and futilely attempts to put Pentheus’s mutilated corpse back together. Dionysus returns, basically saying, “well, he said I wasn’t a God, and that’s blasphemous, so he got what was coming to him.” Pentheus’s mother is exiled.
It’s incredibly dark. In the reviews, critics called it daring, challenging, a bloody spectacle, a feminist masterpiece. I don’t really get what part of “a man who’s a God possesses women’s minds, driving them to murder” screams “feminism,” but hey, I’m the girl who commuted to New Jersey every day for four months to do Cats, what do I know?
Here’s something I do know: the other chorus girls did not like me. And they took their jobs seriously. As we waited to enter for each scene, there was dead quiet in the wings. Usually, there’s some light joking, maybe quickly running lines, maybe physical warmups, shaking out your nerves– I tried to do this once. Before our entrance at the top of the show, we all gathered in the stage right wing, all twelve of us, a perfect and identical dozen. It was a dress rehearsal. No audience. I did a few jumping jacks, trying to hype myself up. Another masked girl grabbed my bicep, hard. When I turned, she just shook her head “no.” Just a simple, silent, “no.” We don’t do that here. We stand silently in the wings, focusing on our craft, breathing, waiting for our entrance. I never tried it again.
When you can’t talk to your coworkers, acting becomes a lot less fun. The collaboration element is totally gone. And honestly, the “acting” element was gone for me, too. How am I supposed to find my character or sense of identity in a role when my role is “don’t let your voice stick out, don’t take a wrong step, blend in perfectly with eleven women who dislike you?”
So before the shows, instead of chatting, or doing jumping jacks, I wandered the theater. I’ve always loved theaters; the dramatic architecture, the ornate prosceniums, the stark contrast of backstage, so dark, so dusty. The theater was no Broadway house, but it had a fly system (which we didn’t use, because the Greeks wouldn’t have been able to fly anything in), just over three hundred seats (including a mezzanine– fancy!), and lots of backstage space. I could say more about it, because I spent hours during the run of the show wandering, but it wouldn’t be terribly interesting to anyone who’s not me. Just know, it was a beautiful old theater– and I mean OLD. Built in the 1910s, just before the Great Depression. I used to love imagining how many generations of people had performed on that stage, imagining what they’d think of this show, or what they’d think of me.
About a week into my wandering, on some fifteen-minute break, I was looking at the ladder that led up to the catwalk– a long, thin metal walkway stretching across the stage from above, usually used for hanging lights. I wondered how long it had been since it was used during a show. I wondered if it was even safe. What would the view be like from up there, seeing the entire stage from thirty feet in the air?
I slowly looked up the ladder. I wouldn’t actually climb it. That would be crazy, right? I’m not particularly good with heights. As my eyes lifted, I made eye contact– or rather, mask contact– with someone. A fellow chorus girl, up on the catwalk.
I stopped breathing for a second. What was she doing up there? I started to say something stupid, like, “Why are you up there?” when just as quickly as the face appeared, it vanished. I saw her white robed form retreat down the catwalk, heading for a different ladder, probably. It was weird. Why did she run? Embarrassed to be caught somewhere she shouldn’t be?
I allowed myself to entertain a little fantasy: maybe she was just like me. Maybe she also hated the other chorus girls, and didn’t “get” The Bacchae. Maybe she was exploring the theater for fun on our break, enjoying the old architecture, like I did. I had no idea who she was under the mask, and she had no idea who I was. She probably thought I was one of the normal judgemental girls, and ran off before I could tell on her to the stage manager.
I was filled with unfounded hope. Could I make a friend here? Was it possible? After two and a half weeks of silence from the other girls, it was hard to imagine. How would I find her? How would I let her know it was me– that I had seen her on the catwalk, and we were the same?
After that day, I got much more observant. When the director called for a break, instead of immediately retreating into the depths of backstage, I watched my eleven doppelgangers carefully, tracking who went for water, who went back to the dressing rooms, who ran off towards the vending machines. It was hard to tell everyone apart, but people had to take their masks off to drink water eventually. I memorized faces and tried to keep track of them. I started to get a handle on everyone’s patterns, narrowing down potential adventurers.
It was impossible. Eleven people is too many to observe. But I’m an actor. Memorizing shit is literally my job. By week four, just days from opening, I had three potential girls. I tried to stick close to them during rehearsals, picking one to follow each day, but nobody ever wandered towards the catwalk. Maybe the girl, whoever she was, had been scared away from adventuring when I caught her. I started to lose hope. We were opening soon– I should focus on making my entrances, not making friends.
But then I saw her again.
This time, it was half an hour before the curtain went up for our invited dress rehearsal. The press was there. I was nervous. I knew I had my part down, but when you’re doing a show, no matter how prepared you are, there’s always the lingering fear that you’ll freeze up, forget everything, and ruin everyone’s hard work. It just means that you care. I was surprised that I cared so much. I still didn’t even get the play. I couldn’t let the other girls see me weak. I barely show my real feelings to people I care about, much less mean actresses who look down on me. To get away from it all, I wandered down to another unused part of the stage: the orchestra pit. We did have music in the show, but the Greeks didn’t have orchestra pits. So it was closed off, being used as storage.
I loved it down there. I loved looking through the storage bins, finding props from long-forgotten productions– sometimes I would find something incredible, something I swore was from the day the theater opened, something old and valuable– and usually, I could never find it again. Those bins were a treasure trove. Of all the weird little spaces I found backstage, the pit was my favorite. I felt like a real explorer down there, illuminating my path with my phone flashlight, getting spooked when a mouse ran over my foot (of course the theater had mice, it was more than a hundred years old! And besides, every building has mice in New York City).
That day, I wasn’t there to look around. Just to sit. Just to catch my breath. I tiptoed down the creaky steps, and plopped myself on the ground, surrounded by bins. I inhaled and exhaled, smelling the mildew-y scent of old props on every side of me. And that’s when I heard a noise. Not a mouse noise– I was used to those. Something bigger. I turned my phone flashlight on immediately, calling, “hello?”
And the light landed on a mask, just like mine. Mine which was currently off, because I was doing my breathing exercises. I felt exposed– she could see my face, but I couldn’t see hers. I stood up. “You scared me!”
She didn’t respond. She looked at me for a second, and started to retreat the other way, towards the stairs at the other side of the pit.
“Wait!” I called. “I won’t tell anyone I saw you!”
She stopped for a second. But then she kept walking. I stood and followed. “Please stop. Can I at least know who you are? I don’t fit in with most of the chorus girls–”
I reached for her long white toga. I swear, I had it in my hand, but somehow, she slipped away. I staggered a bit, almost tripped, confused that I hadn’t made contact with her costume. And when I looked back up, I only saw a glimpse of her disappearing up the stairs. I tried to follow, again, but I found that side of the pit’s stairs reached a dead end. I didn’t understand how she’d gotten out. And when I looked back down at my phone, it was time for places. Disappointed and defeated, I rushed away to the other stairs, making my way to the stage right wing to wait for my entrance.
I counted heads immediately when I arrived. Maybe she hadn’t made it back yet. But, alas: twelve. All accounted for. I nudged a girl next to me, subtly. “Who was the last one here besides me?”
She just stared at me for a moment, which came off as very creepy through the blank dead stare of her mask. “How the fuck am I supposed to know? We all look exactly the same.”
I sighed. “Okay. Thanks.” For nothing, I thought bitterly.
The invited dress went well. The press liked it, as I’ve already said. I was distracted the entire time. After that day, I made it a habit to count all the girls when the stage manager called for “places.” If I was right about this girl, she, like me, would be one of the last, if not the last one there. She would be wandering, exploring, getting away from the bullies.
I wish I hadn’t done this. I wish I’d given up when she disappeared on a dead-end staircase. I wish I’d never seen her on the catwalk. Because when I started counting heads, I noticed something impossible. Sometimes, before we went on, I counted thirteen identical masked faces.
It was a chorus of twelve. It was supposed to be twelve. I’d recount. Recount again. Thirteen. A chill went down my spine. We all looked the same. Same masks, same togas, same wigs. Who was the imposter? How could anyone be an imposter? It didn’t make sense. How would they get into the theater? How would they get a costume?
I started counting more often. Between scenes, in the dressing rooms, even on stage during dull moments. It fluctuated. Sometimes I’d count twelve for a whole day, an entire show, and sigh in relief, feeling like some curse was broken. But the next day, at least once, I’d count thirteen.
And it seemed as if one masked pair of eyes was always trained on me. I don’t know how she knew it was me. We looked the same. But she’d stare. It felt scary, but also ridiculous– I couldn’t be sure it was the same person looking every time. I couldn’t be sure it was unlucky number thirteen. But I felt like it was.
I felt a lot of things. I felt like I couldn’t tell anyone. The other girls already didn’t like me– I couldn’t have them thinking I was crazy. And admitting the presence of the thirteenth would mean admitting to my adventures into forbidden backstage areas. I couldn’t lose this job. I was living paycheck to paycheck. I wasn’t eating well, or sleeping well– maybe this was all a hallucination. And somehow, my biggest feeling was that if I told someone about the thirteenth, I’d never see her again.
And I needed to see her again. The obsession had only gotten stronger. I knew, somehow, deep inside, that she was the one I had seen on the catwalk and in the orchestra pit. I no longer wanted to be her friend– I wanted to corner her. To ask who she was, and why she was sneaking in as if she was one of us. I wanted to ask what she wanted from me.
Because she must want something from me, right? Why else would she stare? Why would she appear only to me?
The timing never lined up. The show had opened at this point, and I had a job to do: delighting the audience. I couldn’t skip my entrance to catch number thirteen. The chorus formations would look ridiculous with a missing person. And as much as the other girls hated me, I owed it to them as my costars to make them look good.
Logically, I knew there was only one person the thirteenth could be: Catalina, the actress I’d replaced. She must be jealous of me. Bitter. Maybe she wanted to take my role, like I’d taken hers. It would be insane, but it was all that made sense. She was the only other person who had the costume, who knew the keypad code to get into the theater. She must have recovered from her fall and come to find me.
It was almost like a game. It definitely made the show more interesting for me. Before I realized what was happening, I dreaded performances. I felt stupid, taking on this role in a show I didn’t even understand. But now I had so much to do. I had to plan.
I started showing up early, an hour before my call time. I walked my old spots, thinking I may see her. The other chorus girls were impressed that I was showing up early, thinking it showed some sort of dedication to the show. I think they even started to hate me less. They still detested any attempts at conversation in the wings, but in the dressing room, I started to have a few breakthroughs. In particular, I started a semi-friendship with Erin. Ironically, she had been one of the three women I thought may be the thirteenth, until I realized the thirteenth wasn’t really one of us at all.
She was the only person who I could actually ask about Catalina. “Did she ever say anything about the theater? The building, I mean? Did she have a favorite part of it?”
Erin would laugh at my seemingly random specificity. “We weren’t close, Michelle. I have no idea what she thought about the theater.”
“What did she do on her breaks?”
Erin thought for a second. “I don’t know. I never saw her at the vending machines, or the dressing room. I guess she found some quiet place to run lines.”
That confirmed it, for me. A quiet place like the catwalk. Or the orchestra pit. We were three weeks into our five week run when I came up with a plan to catch Catalina. It wasn’t a great plan, and I had no idea if it would work, but showing up an hour early every day was making me tired and producing zero results. I needed a new strategy. I realized that after seeing her in the pit, I only ever saw the thirteenth when all twelve of us were together.
So I told a white lie. One night after the show, when everyone was changing in the dressing room, I appealed to my fellow chorus girls. “Are you guys busy before the show tomorrow?” I innocently asked. “I’m feeling a little shaky on some of the entrances. If we could all get here just twenty minutes before our call time tomorrow, I’d love to run some stuff with you guys. I’ve been running it on my own, but without the entire team, I don’t always remember where I fit.”
To my surprise and intense joy, everyone agreed. They really did seem to respect me more when I looked like I was taking my role seriously. I could barely sleep that night, I was so excited to see if my plan worked. And hey, if it didn’t, I had two more weeks of shows to think up something else.
It was a Sunday night, our last show of the week. Mondays are often “dark days” in professional theater, meaning there are no shows that day to give the team a rest. I had planned this on purpose– if I failed, I had a dark day to reflect on that failure and try again.
At 5:40, twenty minutes before our call time, all the girls were assembled and in costume. We started running entrances. After ten minutes, I thought my plan had failed. We had run our first three entrances, and I never counted more than twelve heads in the wings. But around 5:55, as we got to our entrances in act two, offstage, I locked eyes with a mask. A thirteenth mask.
I quickly told everyone “I think I got it, you guys, thank you so much for coming early!” Everyone mumbled that it was no problem, that they were happy to help.
The thirteenth mask broke eye contact with me, looking around in confusion– perhaps distress. The girls started to trickle back towards the dressing room. The thirteenth turned and power-walked away. I shoved through the crowd to catch her, not calling out like I had in the past. I knew she didn’t respond to that. I knew I had to catch her now or never. Once we were out of the crowd’s eyeline, I began to run. She ran, too. “You’re not getting away this time!” I yelled, like some kind of cartoon superhero. My adrenaline was pumping, and blood rushed to my ears.
After I yelled, I suddenly became aware of another set of running feet behind me. “Michelle? Where are you going?” It was Erin’s voice.
“Don’t follow me!” I hastily called back, picking up speed. The thirteenth also picked up speed. Though she was running just as fast as I was, she showed no signs of exertion. I couldn’t hear heavy breathing, or heavy feet on the floor. It was like she was gliding. It infuriated me.
Erin didn’t let up. “Michelle, the stage manager is gonna wonder where we are!”
I ignored her. The thirteenth rounded a corner, and I realized where she was going: the catwalk. The ladder.
She ascended the rungs rapidly, like a spider. I clamored up much less gracefully. Erin’s voice had a heavy tinge of concern. “Michelle, what are you doing?! It’s not safe up there!”
“Then don’t follow me!” I yelled back, exasperated. “This is between me and her!” Despite my vocal warning, I heard Erin climbing behind me.
Once on the metal rail, I looked both ways, terrified she’d escaped me again. But her white toga was just a few feet away, retreating into darkness. I lunged at her. The entire catwalk shook. The thirteenth and I both grabbed the railing to steady ourselves. We met eyes. Or rather, we met masks.
“You have nowhere to go.” I stated.
I heard Erin reaching the top of the ladder behind me. “Michelle, come down, please. You’re scaring me.”
“I can’t. I finally have her.” I took a step towards the thirteenth. She took an equal and opposite step back. “Take the mask off.” I beckoned her. “I know it’s you, Catalina.”
I felt the rail shake slightly as Erin got on it. “What are you talking about, Michelle?!”
“She’s been sneaking in, Erin! She’s been standing in the wings with us before we enter! For weeks!” I took another step towards the thirteenth. In my peripheral vision, I could see how high we were above the stage. Thirty feet. You could die, falling from that height.
“It’s not Catalina. It can’t be. Stop this.” Erin called. Finally, frustrated, I turned towards her.
“Who else could it be?!”
Erin had taken her mask off. Her face was streaked with terror. “Catalina died, Michelle. She fell off this catwalk, directly onto her face, and she died. Please come down with me. I don’t know who you’re talking to, and I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but it isn’t worth it.”
“What are you talking about? I’m talking to–”
I turned back, and she was gone. Vanished like a bad dream. “I swear to God, Erin.” I started to say. “She was right in front of me. I chased her here–”
I turned back to Erin. The thirteenth was behind her.
It made no sense. Nobody can move that fast. Nobody can be in front of me one second and behind me the next. It was inhuman. I stopped speaking. I stopped breathing. It sucks to learn that in a fight-or-flight situation, my answer is to freeze.
Erin must’ve seen how my face changed. “Michelle?” She asked quietly. “What’s wrong?”
Behind her, the thirteenth raised a hand to her mask. Her hands were impossibly pale. How had I never noticed that before? She gripped the mask in her hand. Time stretched. It must’ve only been a second, because Erin didn’t move. But it felt like years of my life passed me by as the thirteenth, inch by inch, raised her mask from her face. Or– raised her mask.
Because there was no face.
Under the mask, pale and gruesome, was a bloody flat edge. Broken, disgusting, it was impossible to make out eyes, or a nose, or a mouth. Inside a somewhat face-shaped frame of stark-white skin, all I could see was flesh, red and raw, squished in on itself. Like someone had fallen from a very high height. And landed on their face.
By the time I finally began to react, it was too late. The thirteenth– or, Catalina– or, the ghost, or– whatever the fuck that thing was. It moved its hands from the mask to Erin’s shoulders. And it pushed. And she screamed, agonizingly loud, as she flew over the side of the railing. And she screamed for the second or so she was in the air. I was screaming, too. And after the crunch of her body hitting the wooden floor of the stage, everyone else screamed, cast and crew alike.
I stared down at her limp form from thirty feet up. Her legs were twisted the wrong way. A pool of blood began to seep out of her. When I looked up again, I expected the thirteenth to be gone, but it wasn’t. With no eyes, it was also looking down at Erin. At what it had done.
And then, slowly, it turned towards me. On all fours, backwards, I scrambled away from it on the catwalk, terrified, not wanting to be next. The thirteenth’s shoulders shook rapidly, like a person laughing. But it made no sound. It never made a sound. Not going up the stairs of the orchestra pit. Not when it pushed Erin. And not as it climbed back down the ladder, rung by rung. I found myself alone on the catwalk.
Erin survived, somehow, paralyzed from the waist down. Apparently she fell on her legs, which, when you’re falling from thirty feet up, is a good thing. If she’d gone down head first, there was no chance. The show had to close, of course. When they lost Catalina a few weeks into rehearsal, she was replaceable. But with me refusing to go on, and Erin in the hospital, there was nothing to be done. I haven’t seen Erin since that day. I feel too guilty. But I was never arrested, so I guess she told the authorities that I didn’t push her. I don’t know what she told them. I don’t know what I would’ve told them, had they asked me.
I don’t do stage plays anymore. The family I used to nanny for gave me a star-studded recommendation, and now I make my living taking care of a five-year-old and a two-year-old for another filthy-rich family. I still act, but I only audition for film work.
I don’t even see plays these days. I won’t set foot in a theater. If the thirteenth had vanished off that catwalk, maybe things would be different. Maybe I could chalk it up to an extreme hallucination, some terrifying creature my mind brewed up to cope with the stress of the show and paying rent. Maybe I could even forget its bloody mess of viscera in the vague shape of a face.
But I saw it go down that ladder. Rung by fucking rung. And I know it’s still out there.
Erin was unlucky. Erin was a victim of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. And if I step inside a theater again, some way, somehow, I know the thirteenth will get me on another catwalk.
This time, I’ll be the one going over the railing.
And I’ve never once landed on my feet.

I was watching Peter Jackson's King Kong. The 2005 movies is over three hours long. Like a few other movies that are over three hours, I feel King Kong is too long. It works much better as a movie that's two and a half or even just two hours long. The beginning part, in particular, is slow and could be cut without the movie losing a lot of what makes it special. And some of the action scenes go on and on and on.
Just to be clear, I'm not against long movies. Gandhi, Gone With the Wind, and Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King are also over three hours long but I didn't feel any of them should be cut significantly.
What about movies that ended too early? I feel less objective about films that ended too soon because they're usually my favorites, so I wish they were just longer. Like Lion King (1994). And this one is probably controversial but I think Rosemary's Baby should have gone on a little longer at the end. But that's just me.

what the fuck is wrong with me. i am doing nothing every single day. i am in a shell of my own body. even when my OWN MIND begs me vainly to do something i know i HAVE to do, i still cant pull it off. i am mindlessly doing absolutely nothing. i zone out even when im doing something that i deem as soothing, relaxing, calming. playing games, watching a video, going through fyp? my mind isnt even on when im doing all of that. im doing something that i think makes me feel better but it doesnt. it didnt. it never will. i subconsciously know only thing that makes me satisfy is sitting on that desk and working on that shit. but i cant. i cant climb through the barrier. im in my room doing nothing all day. something when i wake up from zoning out i find myself wandering the streets grabbing some food. why am i not on my desk doing what i KNOW is good for me? i know i can study for hours once it starts. but when it ends i cannot come back. i cannot find the passion. i dont even enjoy playing games anymore. im left doing nothing. i cant even sleep at night since all i would think about is how much time i wasted. and then i will just wake up the next day begging my own body to do what i actually need, just to repeat the cycle again. doing something that i absolutely loved just doesnt mean anything anymore. i feel numb. i need help. i cant get myself to sit on that desk and study. i cant get the results i want. what the fuck is wrong with me.

Sorry, I’ve never posted on Reddit before so forgive me if this is dumb or wrong I just felt like this was a safe space to get things off of my chest… (don’t read this unless you have nothing at all better to do, I didn’t realize how much I had to say… Lol)
My ex and I were together for 4 years… it’s been almost two weeks since we “broke up”… to me, the situation was small and stupid and I didn’t realize that she’d taken it serious, it almost feels as though she was reaching for a way out. We’ve dealt with so much together the fact that this was the end has me completely lost, hurt and confused.
We met in a virtual world (SecondLife) using avatars as people. Shortly after we met we exchanged numbers and instantly clicked. We were on the phone for HOURS and it stayed that way for about a year. I thought I’d finally found my person and she quickly became someone I’d considered my best friend. She came to visit me after about a year and it was perfect. I convinced my mom to let her come back to stay with us a few months later. It was AMAZING! I had my person with me all the time.
Unfortunately, things got a little rocky after living together for a while (my mini pet peeves: moving slowly, being lazy, not helping out around the house, seeing her butt crack constantly.. stupid things, lol) and she decided to go visit/take care of her grandma. After she left, we went back to long distance, phone calls/FaceTime and SecondLife. I appreciated the space but I still talked to her daily for hours. She ended up going back to her parents home because things weren’t so good with her grandma. After a while we broke up (might have lasted a week at most, it was over something so stupid I can’t even remember), during this week, her grandma passed away and once I found out we ended up going right back to how we were, on the phone/FaceTime/SecondLife almost like we never broke up. She was my person.
We kept it long distance for a while and during this time, I moved to another state for work. Things got rocky again and this involved virtual friends from SecondLife. Looking back, it is so dumb to have been able to affect us the way it did. We weren’t on the best terms but the fact that she was literally my best friend kept us together. We stuck together through everything. I invited her to come to my place for a while (the living situation wasn’t great at her parents place) hoping she could get on her feet and become independent… she came, it was cool but she never got on her feet. She was complacent sleeping on an air mattress in my living room (we were strained even more by this point). Her biggest complaint was my lack of affection… I thought it was due to the fact that she wasn’t trying to do better in life and that made it difficult for me to open up to her. (I later found out about a hormone imbalance that affected my libido and that was part of the problem that led to the lack of intimacy)
At the end of my contract, I decided I was moving back home and due to her living situation at her parents place I preferred for her to come back with me. I thought she’d have more opportunities to do better for herself (be in a safe and clean environment, get her GED, make more money, get on her feet, etc.) but after a year, that wasn’t the case. A few months ago, I gave up social media and SecondLife during a fast. She agreed to do the same so we could both focus on school and becoming better humans. Turns out, she was “sneaking” on SecondLife and Instagram hiding conversations with another girl…. It hurt… we fought and she agreed to let it go (her choice not mine) the next two months were amazing! We studied together, spent more time together, made plans for our future and were getting along really well and decided together we would go back to SecondLife. Part of our plans included me getting a health issue taken care of that would hopefully impact our intimacy in a positive way and I was looking forward to it. That was still her biggest complaint about our relationship.
One Saturday, she picked a fight because I didn’t say I love you too to a text she sent me. I told her that I wasn’t going to fight with her over something so stupid. I told her “I’m done, go if you want to go, stay if you want to stay idc” after this stupid argument, we literally went for ice cream together and everything was fine. Shortly after we got back from, an old friend reached out to her (related to the other girl she was having hidden conversations with) and suddenly everything switched. She asked me if I minded her getting online to hang with them and I didn’t understand why she asked when it was HER idea not to talk to them any further. I told her she made the choice to remove them and she cut me off stating that she only did that because of me. That made no sense to me because during the original argument I never suggested she did that by any means. The argument escalated in the dumbest way and she brought up my comment about her leaving earlier that day. I was confused because we were doing fine after all of that so I didn’t know why she brought that up. She asked me if I broke up with her and if I wanted her to leave and I sarcastically answered yes. She hung up with me and booked a plane ticket… I was livid because none of this made sense.
She then quit talking to me for the rest of the week. The night before her flight I reached out and asked was she happy to be going and she said yes. At that point I snapped. For the first time in 4 years I cursed her out. I felt she turned something so small and stupid into something so big. She didn’t deny anything, she agreed. I asked why a million times and she never answered. She left without saying anything the next morning.
We haven’t talked since. As soon as she was gone, she blocked me on all social media and removed me on SecondLife. The other day, someone sent me a screenshot of her Instagram post of her and another female avatar intimately on SecondLife …. I thought I was going to die…. She’d left me for a virtual person… that hurt to the core. It left me completely confused. I text her asking why again, she told me it didn’t matter, she didn’t want to talk and she was with someone else and happy. I kept asking why and she refused to talk to me and actually blocked my number too… (that sucks the most because the phone she’s using to communicate with the new girl is IN MY NAME and now I’m blocked from MY OWN PHONE) I feel like such an idiot and I just want to understand this. Idk what to do.
The surgery to handle the health issue is scheduled for this Thursday and I honestly hope I just die on the table. I miss her more than anything and I desperately want to understand why she discarded me so easily and quickly.

I’ve been working as an advocate & therapist at a non-profit serving survivors of sexual assault and domestic violence for about a year — it’s my first job out of my MSW program.
At first, I was very pleased with and excited about the job. My supervisor said I would have a maximum caseload of 15 clients because she wanted me to do both case management and therapy and didn’t want me overworked. The organization is paying for my supervision as well as various trainings in EMDR, TREM, etc.
Some things have happened in the last few months that have bothered me, however.
It has taken basically the entire year for me to build my caseload and even with the caseload I have, over half cancel or no show. I am lucky if I see two clients in one day, which makes it difficult to stay motivated and plan engaging therapeutic activities. When I brought this up to my supervisor, she informed me that we have an open door policy and cannot terminate clients for no-showing. I understand the role that trauma and other various barriers (transportation!!) plays in preventing individuals from attending therapy, but it is frustrating for me nonetheless. I even asked my supervisor if we can offer therapy via video since we offer it over the phone, but she said our funding does not allow for that. ??
The same thing has happened with a support group I run. For a few months, I had about 3-4 regular participants but that number has dwindled down to 1 for the past two months. I moved the support group to evenings in order to make it more client-centered, but it still didn’t improve participation. I brought it up to my supervisor in hope that she would let me pause the support group indefinitely, but she only suggested I put together an ice cream social (which I ended up doing and only had 1 participant show up for).
We are also required to do an RA on-call rotation at our shelter usually once every 2-3 months. This primarily involves going in to work in the shelter if an RA calls off — this work includes cleaning shelter bathrooms and living areas, cooking meals, operating our crisis line, monitoring security cameras, etc. I feel that having advocates and therapists in this role is not client-centered at all. Although we are encouraged to schedule our on-call weeks lightly, I have had to cancel appointments with clients because I ended up getting called in; I have had clients drop off as a result. I have never understood why other RAs cannot be on call instead.
In addition, I have had multiple negative interactions with RA staff. During my last on-call week, I had an RA text me at 7:30 in the morning that she could not come in for her 8am shift. We have an hour to arrive at the shelter upon getting called in; I got there 15 minutes past this. Despite letting the RA working know as soon as I got called in that would not be there right at 8 and despite calling her at 8:30 to let her know I’d be there at 8:45, I got screamed at on the phone because she was going to miss her doctors appointment.
I have also had clients call the crisis line to cancel their appointments with me (not sure why but sometimes are phones can be glitchy), only to be notified of the cancellation by RA staff hours after the appointment was initially scheduled.
I have also begun to struggle in my communications with my supervisor. Since I was hired, we have met once a week for an hour to go over any questions or concerns I have. I recently planned to meet with her during our scheduled time but texted her that I was running a few minutes late — no response. When I got to her office, I was informed by another staff member that she was off that entire week on vacation. I did not get an apology and she proceeded to miss the following week’s meeting despite being in-office.
I also do not agree with our process of providing assistance items to clients. If I have a client that needs something as simple as laundry detergent, I can’t go to the store to get it for them; I have to send my supervisor an email memo requesting it. Often times, I also have to remind my supervisor to order the items, then wait 3+ days until the items arrive — all while my client goes without whatever they need that we could’ve gotten from the store that same day.
Despite having at least three bilingual staff members, my supervisor insisted that we hire a professional interpreter for me to work with a Spanish-speaking client because she did not want the survivor to feel uncomfortable with other staff knowing what she was sharing with me (that’s valid). However, it has been over 3 months and we are still waiting to get an interpreter. When I recently asked my supervisor about this, she said she missed a section of the application and needed to complete it before submitting it. In the meantime, a child who was sexually assaulted is going without therapy.
I recognize that every organization has its flaws, but I am troubled by these experiences and am actively looking for work elsewhere. I constantly wonder if I am allowed to be upset about all this, so I’m basically just hoping for some validation here. I’ve also really struggled to voice my concerns to my supervisor because I don’t want to seem negative. I am a new social worker and don’t want to act like a know-it-all, and I also wonder if bringing these issues up would make any sort of difference considering there’s a lot of them and there is not a simple solution.

Don’t ever let anyone make you feel bad about your jewelry collections! So many people out there collect less ideal things than jewelry.
Jewelry 1) can last forever, easily for decades 2) can be passed down to heirs 3) can maintain its value when bought affordably (as many of us do on this moissanite sub)
I feel much better about a moissanite piece holding its value (especially when bought from overseas) than a diamond, which are often inflated. My engagement ring, for example, shines as beautifully as my moissanites but would be hard to sell for what it was purchased for upfront. Diamond resell is much lower.
One of my grandmothers has not passed away but is downsizing. I don’t see her very often but she sent my father literally over a thousand pieces of jewelry (took hours to get through the rings and earrings — I haven’t even gotten a chance to check the necklaces) as an early inheritance. She was a lifelong collector and though I won’t keep all of the pieces (would take a lifetime to wear them), there are many that I’ll wear and will remind me of her — something that I know was her sweet intent when she sent them.
I do not feel any remorse buying jewelry when I can afford it. One day I will pass them to my descendants (I don’t have children, but to my nieces and my nephews) and hopefully they’ll think of me when they wear those pieces.
Don’t bankrupt yourself or anything, by any means. Don’t ring up a bunch of debt — but you do you. Jewelry is a lifelong purchase that can last for centuries and moissanites, like diamonds, are extremely durable gemstones 9.25-9.5 on the Mohs scale).
Edit to add: my apologies if this title was sexist. I realize after that I only said ladies in the title. This, of course, applies to men as well.

Hello,
I (M14, Caucasian) have had a recurring cough througout these past two years. When a doctor saw it, I was referred to a chest x-ray. No fluid appeared on the x-ray, and I was not diagnosed with any illness, but I was given Alvesco (the steriod) to be taken two times a day via inhalation. I stopped taking that first dose of Alvesco a long time ago (maybe 18 months) and have kept the doctor updated throughout my visits for other issues these past two years.
The cough can sometimes morph into throat clearing (doesn't hurt the chest as much) but is REALLY annoying to everyone around me, so I try to keep to coughing. The cough usually riles up after physical activity, especially in cold weather. There have been times in cold weather when it hurts to breathe, but it usually goes away within an hour.
After another visit with the doctor due to an unrelated issue, I was once again prescribed another dose of Alvesco, which was to be taken two times a day via inhalation until the end of May. The Alvesco definetely seemed to help, and the cough was pretty good through May and has been fine up until now, where coughing has become a bit more prevalent. I have also been taking over the counter Menthol cough drops, which help as well. I do not have any photos of the Alvesco inhaler, as it has been recalled by the doctor, and the cough drops are normal.
Does anyone have any ideas on what I could do about this issue? I do not want to be coughing my lungs out every time I do something physical in the cold for the rest of my life (especially as I get older). I do not take any other medication, and I do not indulge in smoking, drinking or recreational drug use.
Thanks.

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US citizen here.
I had accepted an offer with an IT company based out of Maryland (I live in California) for a remote W2 position. They made an offer which I accepted and went through the entire on-boarding process, completed the I-9 on-boarding process including supplying all of the personal documents and information (I verified with the BBB that the company was, indeed, a legit company), turned in my 2 week notice to my current employer. Everything was going great, but, less than half an hour after completing the I9 paperwork, I get a call from one of the hiring team who told me the position was on hold. So, now, I am in limbo and trying to salvage my current position since I turned in my notice Monday (June 5) and there was not anything that even appeared off. Every interaction during the interview process was on the level, they liked me, I liked them, met their requirements for the position, Sent and signed the personal documents and forms with Driver's License and Social security number, signed and verified. Everything. Even submitted the background check paperwork, which I know there is nothing there as I currently work for an Indian Casino now, as well as at my previous position, and was required to do the background check and re-certify every 2 years to maintain my gaming license. Before that, had SF86 Government clearance through OPM. So, backgrounds info is not the issue. Verified credit report and history.
At this point, I am worried about identity theft with the documents and information sent, but, as the employer knew I had already turned in my notice when I accepted the offer and completed the paperwork, my livelihood and ability to support my family are on what feels like thin ice since putting in my notice.
I am wondering if there is any sort of legal recourse for me as everything was signed and accepted on both sides. Any advice would be greatly appreciated.