2011 chevy equinox tire pressure

I finally switched to tubeless but I can’t seem to make the rear tire hold air. It first seems like everything is fine and the next day I am below 1 bar pressure. I can ride fine for more than 30min without noticing any pressure loss and it sealed up some holes in the side of the tire. What am I doing wrong? Should I have used a brand new tire? Thanks! (Front tire worked without issues)

This will definitely make me sound like an awful person (which I probably am) but I need to get this off my chest. As much as I love my best friend, she's a bitch sometimes.
I have a best friend, who we will call J, and J is neurodivergent (supposedly). She's never had a proper diagnosis by a doctor and although she's waiting for one, I don't think she has any problems other than mood swings and being occasionally emotional. It almost feels like she's hoping for something to be wrong with her so that she can use it to her advantage. Even as of right now, she tells people she's autistic and has ADHD, and uses it to get out of things when she doesn't want to participate. J also has used this to fake cry and get out of classes she doesn't want to be in.
J has also admitted to me that she views other people as less and often guilt trips and manipulates people, even people she cares about.
She also cops out of fun activities and uses her mental health as an excuse. One time there was a "city experience" which is when our school goes to the city and everyone in the grade does fun activities together. We were going to mini golf and J left mid game because she was "getting sensory issues" even though the only thing she had to touch was the golf club. Then J said it was because she didn't like the way the grass looked and was getting "overstimulated" because of it. I find this really annoying because she does this so often. When an activity doesn't go her way she will just cop out and go on her phone which annoys me because I do want to make memories with her. I want to spend time on fun things with her. When she cops out of activities, I feel pressured to also drop the activity and go comfort her.
Not only that, she will sometimes judge me for having fun. At the same "city experience" we did a silent disco. I know that might not be everyone's cup of tea and although J didn't want to do it I wanted to. I decided I wanted to have some fun for the first time in a while and I did. The silent disco was so much fun but when I went back to J and told her I had a good time, she judged me for having more fun than she did.
I was angry with her for these things but I never told her because I feel like I can't be mad at her. She has struggles and problems which are worse than mine and I don't want to add onto that. I feel like I have no right to be angry at her, I feel like I'm not ALLOWED to be angry at her. When I'm angry at her I usually just have to suck it up and keep it in, or if we get into a fight I always end up apologizing.
She also gets mad at me over the smallest things.
This isn't the best example, but the other day there was this kid who's been picking on us for a while and J stood up for herself which I was really proud of her. But also she was speaking in a British accent and I have a habit of pointing out when someone randomly changes to a British accent. (J is born and raised in Australia, never been to England). So I point it out and tell her to chill out because it's better to just not engage with him. All he did was talk in an annoying voice to us and jokingly said "put your phone away, we're in school". The guy picking on us was an asshole and everything but it was clearly a joke since class hadn't started.
J got super mad at this and didn't tell me. Just gave me that "vibe". So obviously I do what I always have to end up doing because her form of solving problems is the silent treatment. I try talk to her but she ignores me so I message her apologizing.
I didn't mean a word I said in that apology.
This was the apology:
" I’m sorry if you're mad at me J, you can just tell me that. I'm not going to be upset at you for being mad at me. He was an asshole. I wasn't trying to make fun of you, I was just pointing it out purely from habit. I'll avoid doing things like that in the future. I often make these mistakes because I struggle with reading the room and didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
She responded with "sure" and more passive aggressive messages whenever I tried to reassure her that what I said wasn't with ill intent and it was out of habit. These included "I thought you'd be different" or "considering you're my best friend ____"
I'm so tired of constantly apologizing to her and I know that I do have fault in this but I don't feel guilty for it. She's so sensitive she breaks so easily and only focuses on her own side of the story and never cares about how I feel. (or most other people as long as she benefits from it)
I'm aware that that wasn't the best situation to make a joke about a British accent but I really don't feel bad about it. She's so tiring to deal with because she's constantly doing this and getting upset over everything and I never feel like I can get mad at her because she's already "going through a lot". I know what she's going through and honestly it sounds bad but it doesn't sound THAT bad. She's pretty (and she knows it), she's got a loving sister, a good dad, gets a lot of the things she wants, is talented and people love her.
I'm pretty much her shadow because everything about me, she's better at. I'm good at art but she's better. I may be pretty but she is beautiful. I'm sad but she's 'depressed'. I have decent music taste but hers is better. I love certain things but she loves them more. Teachers and students like me but they like her more. That kind of stuff. She's definitely the main character and people sometimes refer to me as "J's best friend" rather than my name.
To be honest, I'm only keeping her around because I don't want to be alone. I don't have many other friends. She's alright 50% of the time and I need her for emotional support sometimes. Other than that, I sometimes consider saying "If you don't forgive me, I'm alright with that. If our friendship ends because of you I don't care, and you best believe I won't really give a shit". (She depends on me a lot more than I depend on her.)
This sounds evil, manipulative and horrible but I'm so sick of her selfishness and her being an asshole but getting away with it. I don't mean my apologizes because I find it very difficult to see when I'm in the wrong. I don't tell her any of this because I'm planning on keeping her around for entertainment. I can't lose her because I don't want to look like a lonely freak.
I'm probably just an asshole and I shouldn't think like this because she's got it worse than me and I'm her best friend. I am meant only to comfort her. I should feel guilty for saying all these things about her and having these thoughts against my best friend.
But I'm starting to not give a shit about her cause this happens so often it's not even funny anymore. This is just a cycle.

I never thought I would use Reddit for this, but here I am. I want to start out by saying how much I appreciate this community and the support everyone provides. I lost my Grandpa on 2/14/23, and reading posts on here helps me to see that other people handle their grief in different ways. The non-grieving world keeps turning and we are expected to put our loss behind us and function normally. Reading about how others have experienced sorrow, anger, guilt, and all of the other emotions lets me know that there is no certain way to grieve. I'm not sure why I wanted to post this now since it has been over a month since my Grandpa passed. I guess I just wanted to share our story to add to the community and if it helps me and someone else with a similar experience then I consider it being worth it.
I was brought into the home of my grandparents when I was 8 years old due to my dad falling into drug addiction after the passing of my mom from cancer. My Grandpa made a promise to my Mom before she passed that he would make sure I was taken care of. They raised me as their own son, got me through school and college, and have supported my adult profession as a police officer. My Grandpa was a retired firefighter and when he loved that I was a police officer. He even did a ride along with me, and was planning on doing another one. I'm 31 now, and my Grandpa was 85. Even up until the last few weeks of his life, he was always very active. He did exercises everyday and went on long walks. I've always seen him as the strongest man I know. One of our favorite things to do together was to go and shoot his guns that he bought and collected.
Several years ago my Grandpa was diagnosed with a skin cancer on the top of his head. Every time a new spot popped up, it usually just required some radiation treatments and then life would go back to normal. In 2022, it became more aggressive though, but the doctor made it seem that it was still treatable. This time he had to do a combination of chemotherapy and radiation. It was very hard on him for an 85 year old man, and he wasn't able to do much due to the sickness and fatigue. He eventually had to stop the chemotherapy and was able to finish the radiation treatments. Everything appeared to be going back to normal at the end of 2022, and we were able to enjoy Christmas together one last time. In January 2023 though, he had a seizure at home which we initially thought was a stroke. At the hospital, they found out that it was actually a seizure and his scans showed that there were cancerous lesions in his brain from the cancer spreading. When he got out of the hospital, we immediately made an appointment with his cancer physician. His doctor told us that he would try to treat it, but it would require 10 back to back radiation treatments every single day. He told us that since the cancer (angiosarcoma) had now spread to his brain, that the radiation treatments would have more of an effect on him since it was no longer just on the surface of his head. But everything seemed hopeful and we decided to go through with the treatments.
My grandparents got a hotel room in the city where the hospital was, since it was an hour and a half drive away. It happens to be the same city I live in. I was able to spend almost every day with him, besides when I had to be at work. We went to a pipe tobacco store, a gun store, several restaurants, and spent time together in the hotel room. I'll never take that time for granted. The treatments went well, until about halfway through he became very tired and had lost a lot of weight. But this was to be expected. On the last day of treatment, he was having a hard time walking, and needed to use a cane, which he never used. As my grandparents left to go back home, I just thought that once he got back to the comfort of his own home, he could rest and would eventually start eating more again once the radiation effects wore off.
The next morning, I got a phone call that he had collapsed and had to go to the hospital where they live. I felt terrible. I still feel terrible. I'm so mad at myself for not recognizing that he was so weak and sick, and I should have went home with them to help take care of him and to encourage him to eat and drink. Apparently he collapsed from dehydration, and he went from the emergency department to the ICU. When I arrived at the hospital and found out he was in the ICU, I was told it was because of the medications he was being administered to stabilize his blood pressure. We then found out that he had went into septic shock from a perforated colon caused by diverticulitis. I didn't even know that he had that. As he spent more days in the ICU, the nurses found out that he had bed sores when they took him for an MRI. And now as I am writing this I am starting to tear up because I knew how much he hated MRIs. And he had it done for nothing. The nurses even bumped his head when doing the scan which tore a part of his skin away since his head was so tender from the radiation. He didn't deserve that.
After a few days in the ICU, his vitals appeared to be better and they took him off of the medications, except for the antibiotics. They put him in a different unit, and that's when it all went downhill. He started getting really sick, saying that his stomach hurt, and he didn't want to eat or drink anything. I tried to encourage him to eat and drink, but he was in too much pain. As time went on, he started breathing really heavy, did not want to try and get out of bed, and stopped talking. I don't want to go into all of the details, because it's really difficult for me to relive them and I'm still processing them. After a few days in that unit, his vitals and labs were bad again, and we were told that he would either have to go back to ICU and be put on life support, or we could let them give him some medicine to ease the pain so that he could go restfully. We decided as a family that it would have been cruel to extend his suffering and we know he wouldn't want to have been put on life support. We had to watch him take his last breath, and as traumatizing as it was, I couldn't leave him and let him be alone. After everything he has done for me, that was the least I could do.
After his passing the next few days were a blur. I never imagined that I would have to plan my Grandpa's funeral. Finding pallbearers, picking out a casket, picking out music, putting together the photos for the slideshow, and writing the tribute. Now that the funeral has been over for over a month, and people try to go back to their normal lives, it hurts even more. My job as a police officer is especially hard for me to go back to. I have to try and put on a straight face for the public, so in between calls I'm usually about to burst into tears so I have to go find a solitary place. At least that's one good part about my job. I can just go drive to a secluded area like a park and get my tears out. I know that most of you on here probably don't have that luxury and I'm sorry that you may have to try and hold it in for a full work day. Everything I see around me at work reminds me of him. I drive by the hospital where he was receiving cancer treatments just about every shift I work. It just feels so unreal that he was there just not that long ago.
I know that he lived to be 85, and that's a long good life. It just still feels like it was so sudden. And maybe that is better than a slow, suffering death from the spread of cancer. But he was my everything. He was my Grandpa, my Dad, and my best friend. And now I have to live the rest of my life without him here. The days feel so dark now. I was having a lot of dreams about him the days after his passing, but they don't happen much anymore. I have cried every day since he passed, but the feeling is becoming more of a numb feeling of sadness with periods of anger. I get angry at the nurses and doctor that seemed to have neglected him in the hospital after he left the ICU. I trusted the people who were medically trained to take care of him, and didn't speak up enough for him while he was in the hospital. I feel guilty for not spending more time with him while I could, for not recognizing how negatively the radiation treatments were affecting him. I know that he wouldn't want me to feel this way, but I feel like I failed him and he could still be here with me today. But then I tell myself, it would only be a matter of time until something else happened or the cancer spread again. We can't live forever.
I always thought that my faith was strong and I was a spiritual person, until this happened. Your beliefs really are challenged when going through the loss of a loved one. It's went from a hopeful "I believe because an afterlife sounds nice and I hope I get there" to a desperate "I hope that my loved isn't non-existent now and that their soul is still alive and I can see them again". I just can't think of my Grandpa being nothing now. He was so much more than just a physical body. I have to believe that he's still out there somewhere.

Since 2016, I've had over 10 jobs. All blue collar work (I install security systems). Early this year, I was fired for absences. Took another job, and I'm already about to quit tomorrow morning. I've got another job already lined up to start next week.. I'm just so tired of this..
Everyone has problems, I'll be the last to dismiss anyones issues or tell someone to "suck it up", but sometimes, I wish I could just suck it up and work my ass off and end this cycle...
When I was a young child, my families house was burnt down due to arson. My sister went down a bad path of heroin addiction and owed the wrong person a miniscule amount of money, and so they retaliated by taking away everything my parents worked for, the lives of our pets, and our sense of security. Nothing was the same after that... Mom wouldn't let my sister go despite years of trying to help her in every way. This caused resentment from my father. They're now still dealing with my sister living with them. Basically 2 babysitters for my now 30 year old sister and her child. They're miserable and I see it every time I see them. They're not sad or suicidal... They're just not themselves... And they haven't been since that day in 2009.. they just sort of gave up on all their ambitions, gave up on progress and have just been stagnant since.. Another issue that's stemmed from my house being burnt down, and primarily the reason I am in this mess today, is my irrational fears..
I wake up every day before work, always with some degree of panic, sadness, and feelings of imminent doom. I fear I won't make it home, or something will happen to my fiance or daughter while I'm across state working... I can go about 2 weeks to a month before I burn out and need to take a sick day or 2. This sometimes spirals into more than that because I just simply can't go to work in the morning. I hate leaving my family while having that dark shadow over me. They're all I want in that time.
I'm never without work for more than a few weeks, it's easy to find jobs in my field... But on top of my issues, I HATE the job. I hate never knowing if I'll be home before sundown to kiss my daughter goodnight. Or be able to cook my family dinner. Simple things... I want a work from home job so badly. But I can never find one that pays enough, so I just stay in this industry and hope one day something clicks and I stick it out. I thought this job would be the one, things were a lot more laid back than my previous role, until 2 weeks went by and people started showing their true colors, making jokes about my personal appearance and basically tried to hide it, It didn't sadden me, it just made me feel immediately disconnected from these guys.
I always find a way to allow my depression and lack of care to land me in these spots. I have a good life on paper, decent house, healthy daughter, great fiance... But here I am finding ways to despise leaving bed everyday. How do people do it? I just simply want to wake up everyday, not have a care, and just show up.
All the things I have to work hard for, and for some reason, I just get to a point where I don't care... But inside, I deeply want to care. My family deserves more. I have so much pressure on me to fix this, and to give my family the best life possible. I can't do that like this. I save enough to scrape by and move onto the next job. I'm always tight on money. Why am I like this? How do I fix this? I want to find myself again. I want to succeed. I DO NOT ever plan on giving up. But I NEED to do better than I am now...

So today I took the car for maintenance to do fuel induction system service, oil change, alignment.
I drove it to some family's place later the day and as I headed home at night, I felt the wheels swirl and lights came on. The check engine, the tire pressure, abs light all came on.
I parked the car, turned it off then back on. The other lights went off except the engine. I revealed the gas cap to assure it was tight. The light was still on
I went to get my tools then removed the battery and cleaned some corrosion off a bit.
Afterwards the car wouldn't power. Everything I put the negative terminal on I see bit of spark and small smoke
I used a load tester meter battery tester to measure it was about between 10 and 12v but still in between the green to yellow area. the tester got hot and started smoking.
The car door lights come on. The top lights near sunroof can barely light up its tiny orange. When I try to step on break to push start button there's a tiny click noise and heard a tiny spark then Everything goes quiet after. Headlights and smart key buttons won't work.
What could it be? Battery is my first guess. I've had it for 2yrs and there have always been white corrosion build up on terminal. Could the corrosion cause a problem with conducting power?
Could it be the maintenance people doing something to my car?

Who’d ever be afraid of postcards?
After all, it’s nothing but paper, right?
That’s how I’d have reacted if you’d asked me that question about a month or two ago.
It all started back in April. I’d just returned from the grocery store and checked my mail. I do it less than frequently. The only thing that ever finds its way there are fliers, random advertisement or the occasional bill.
That day though, as I stood in front of the big outdoor mailboxes of my apartment building, there was something else. Amongst a handful of fliers that had accumulated over the past week and a half, I also found a postcard.
After I’d crumbled up the annoying advertisements, I checked the postcard. Its front showed a pair of cute kittens and a ball of yarn.
When I turned it around, wondering who it was from, I found a postal stamp, my address written in fine letters, but no message. At least I thought so until I saw a single smiley face drawn where one would usually find a message.
I stared at the card for a bit, more amused than confused, wondering who’d sent it.
Without thinking much, I pocketed it and went inside. After I’d put away my groceries, I added it to a small bulletin board in my hallway where I’d put up all the postcards I’d received from friends and family over the years.
I’d forgotten it soon enough, if not for another one that arrived a week later.
This time the motif was a sprawling forest with the sun rising in the distance. When I turned it around, it was the same thing. A stamp, my name and address, and another silly little smiley face.
“What the hell?” I brought out before I shrugged. Back inside, I pinned it to the bulletin board and went on with my day.
A few days later, another two postcards arrived. One showed a couple of balloons flying through the air, the other what I assumed to be an important historical building. Once again, neither of them contained a message. Instead, both of them showed the same lonely smiley face.
By now, I couldn’t help but frown. This was getting creepy.
This time I didn’t bother to put the cards up on the board. In the trash they went, without a moment’s hesitation.
And yet, I couldn’t help but wonder what was up with this. Why’d anyone sent me those cards? Why not add a message instead of that stupid smiley face? Was this supposed to be a joke?
I didn’t find any answers to my questions, but the next time I checked my mailbox, I found another batch of postcards inside.
They depicted random motifs, were all addressed to me, and each one sprouted another smiley face.
This time, I wasn’t confused or puzzled. This time I was getting angry. Who the hell was sending them? In my anger, I tore them to pieces right then and there and grumbled up the remains.
Then I stopped and looked around to see if the perpetrator was nearby. Maybe this was all someone’s elaborate joke to see how a random person would react to something like this?
Then I shook my head. It wouldn’t do me any good to grow paranoid about a couple of silly postcards. And they all had a postal stamp, so they’d arrived via mail, anyway.
And yet, the next day, I found myself in front of the mailboxes again, checking it even though I told myself to not let it go to my head. But wouldn’t you know it, I found another one. The same was true for the next day and the day after. Each day, a new, cute little postcard arrived, address to me and sprouting another random smiley face.
Who the hell was doing this? Those cards, the shipping, it all cost money, didn’t it?
That’s when I wondered who it could be. I didn’t exactly have friends and what few old ones I had I hadn’t talked to in years. The next thing that came to mind were past relationships, but I hadn’t dated anyone in years. The only nasty break-up I could think of was with Lin, and that had been almost a decade ago. No, as much as I racked my brain, no one came to mind.
I went online, asked about it on Reddit and other similar sites, but most of the answers I got were silly jokes. What few serious replies I got suggested it might be some sort of marketing campaign, a social experiment or someone tricking random people to see how they’d react.
Great, that didn’t help me one bit. So much for the information age.
Each day, I thought about the damned cards more and more and each day new cards arrived.
Eventually, on my way to the grocery store, I ran into the mailman who’d just started on his delivery on our block.
“Hello, excuse me, do you mind if I ask you a question?”
The man turned to me and gave me a puzzled look before he nodded.
“Sure, what’s up?”
“Well, for the past weeks, I’ve been getting those weird postcards in the mail. Do you by any chance know something about it? Maybe other people receive them too and I was wondering if there’s some sort of, you know, promotion or something.”
For a moment, he stared at me again.
“Haven’t heard of anything like it.”
“Yeah, but those damned cards keep arriving. By now it’s two or three a day and I was wondering,” my voice trailed off.
“They are like, landscapes, animals, greeting cards, anything basically.”
“All right,” he brought out in a strangely suspicious voice. “Do you live here?”
“Ah, down the road, in number sixty-eight.”
“Tell you what, buddy, I’ve no clue if I delivered any postcards, there’s a ton of mail and even more mailboxes. I’ll keep my eyes open though.”
“Thanks.”
From the way he held my gaze, I knew he wasn’t doing anything like keeping his eyes open. No, I could tell he was uncomfortable about the entire thing and just wanted to get over with. I sighed, nodded, and went on my way.
The next morning, while I put on some coffee, the same curiosity overcame me again. I put on my shoes and made my way outside. Wouldn’t you know it, another pair of postcards had found its way into my mailbox.
In an onset of fury, I tore them apart, cursing to myself, and threw their remains down in front of the mailboxes.
Once done, I found one of my neighbors, an old woman walking her dog, staring at me, a worried expression on her face.
“Ah, sorry,” I mumbled, more to myself than to her, before I hurried back inside.
Great, fucking great. If this continued, I’d be known as the local crazy guy in no time. But really, what the hell was up with those cards?
I had talked to the mailman, of course, but by that point he hadn’t been at my building yet. And he probably didn’t give a shit about a random guy pestering him about postcards. No, if anything, I had to talk to him right here, while he was delivering the damned things.
Yesterday I’d met him at about one in the afternoon. So he’d probably be back shortly after noon.
I tried my best to distract myself with my work, but I soon couldn’t concentrate on it anymore. Instead, I found myself sitting at the kitchen window, watching the street and mailboxes outside, waiting for his arrival.
I sat there for more than an hour, busying myself on my phone, when I noticed the bright-yellow delivery car. In an instant, I jumped up, put on my shoes, and dashed outside.
When I’d made it, he was rummaging through the back of his car, sorting through letters and parcels. Then he made his way to my building with a stack of them in his hands. The moment he noticed standing by the mailboxes, he gave me an awkward smile.
Shit, I told myself, now I’m the guy who’s stalking the mailman.
He gave me a friendly nod, trying his best to ignore me, but every so often his eyes wandered back to me. The way I watched him clearly unsettled him. Shit, I had to do something about this situation.
“Sorry about that,” I brought out, stepping up to him.
He gave me a half-questioning, half-scared look.
“You probably think I’m a nutcase but,” I broke up and couldn’t help but laugh. “All right, shit, now you definitely think I’m a nutcase.”
He joined my laughter, but his had an awkward, hollow sound to it.
“So about the postcards,” I started, but he raised his hand to cut me off.
He went through the stack of letters right in front of me, showing me one after another and then the three parcels.
“Nope, no postcards, same as yesterday,” he eventually said.
“Yesterday?”
“Yeah, when you asked me.”
“Motherfucker,” I brought out.
He gave me another curious glance as he pushed letter after letter into their corresponding mailboxes.
“Sorry, not you. It’s just, I found another batch this morning, so I thought maybe today there were more of them.”
“Well, as you can see,” he said, shrugging.
“Yeah, all good. I’m just trying to figure out who’s sending the damned things,” I said, giving him a little smile.
He gave me another curt nod before he hurried back to his car.
All right, if those things weren’t delivered by the postal service...
And so the biggest question on my mind changed from why to who and especially when.
For a moment, the strangest feeling came over me as I watched the mailman at his car and opened my mailbox again. Maybe he was fucking with me and hadn’t shown them. But when I stared into my mailbox, it was empty.
Back inside, I hatched a plan. They were there every morning, and the mailman didn’t deliver them, so someone else had to be behind it. I mean, they couldn’t just appear there out of thin air. So if I just waited by the kitchen window and watched the damned mailboxes, I should catch the perpetrator.
I found myself an interesting podcast, sat down by the window, and began my watch.
I sat there all afternoon, but all I saw were neighbors checking their mail. None of them touched my mailbox at all. When the sun set, I prepared myself a can of coffee.
When night fell, I was about to turn on the light, but then remembered what I was doing. Whoever was behind this would see me in the window and would just sit tonight out. Hell, maybe they’d already seen me and decided to leave things alone for today.
Shit.
Still, I had told myself I’d catch the one responsible for this and that I’d watch the damned mailboxes.
And yet, slowly, ever so slowly, hour after hour passed. Soon enough it was midnight, then one in the morning. At two, I grew tired and downed yet another cup of coffee. At half-past three, I almost nodded off.
I slapped myself across the face, downed another cup of strong coffee, and turned the podcast a few notches louder until it sounded like someone was screaming into my ear.
Eventually, morning came, and the sun dawned. I sat there, tired, exhausted, but most of all, discouraged. No one had shown up, no one at all.
For a moment, I couldn’t help but laugh. What the hell was I doing? Why was I sitting here all night just because of a bunch of stupid postcards?
And yet, I kept sitting there, watching the mailboxes for another hour and then another. Somehow, I couldn’t stop. It felt like the moment I’d step away from the window, someone would rush to the mailbox, put the cards in and dash away.
Then I started to think. What if they were waiting for exactly that? What if someone had seen me by the window and was waiting for me to give up, to falter?
My apartment was on the ground floor. I’d be out at the mailboxes within moments. If I was fast enough, maybe I could catch them red-handed.
For a moment I scanned the area nearby, the street and the sidewalk, the bushes and trees, but I saw no one.
Still, just to be sure, just so I wouldn’t miss a thing, I put my phone up near the window where it couldn’t easily be seen. Then I made sure it was pointed at the mailboxes and started a recording.
Once I was sure everything worked, I stepped away from the window. I put on my shoes, grabbed my keys and hurried outside to the mailbox.
I was all alone. My eyes darted around for movement, trying to see if anyone was nearby or hurrying away. All was as quiet as it could be. No one was nearby.
Then I walked up to my mailbox.
My fingers were sweaty as I put in the key and my hand was shaking slightly as I turned it.
It had to be empty, I told myself, it had to be.
But the moment the small mailbox opened up, I could already see them, three postcards. Cute kittens and puppies stared at me from each one. When I turned them around, I saw the postal stamp, saw my address and name and of course the damned smiley faces.
As they stared at me, I felt almost as if they were laughing at me, mocking me. Had someone actually made it to the mailbox in the few moments it took me to get here?
In an instant, another surge of rage came over me and I shredded the damned things. Then I made my way back inside and hurried to the kitchen.
The phone was still pointing at the mailboxes, still recording.
I was filled with the strangest sense of glee, of curiosity as I replayed the recording.
I brought the phone as close to my face as I could, gazing at it. The recording began, showing me the lonely mailboxes.
“Now, where are you, asshole?” I wondered as I continued watching.
Second after second passed with no one showing up, with nothing moving.
Then I saw something and at first I thought I’d caught the damned asshole playing tricks on me before I realized it was me walking up to my mailbox. I watched as I looked around, as I took out the key and opened it and eventually tore up the postcards.
In frustration, I dropped my phone onto the kitchen table and laughed.
How the hell had someone put those damned cards inside? I had seen no one!
Then I wondered if someone had dropped them in before I’d started watching the window. There had been a few minutes after my talk with the mailman. Hell, what if I had actually nodded off and hadn’t noticed it?
What if the damned mailman was behind it? Maybe that asshole pretended not to know anything and the moment I’d left him, he ran back to my mailbox and put the damned cards in? What if...
All right, stop. This is getting ridiculous. You’re sounding like a crazy person. Hell, you’ve acted like a crazy person. This entire ‘let’s watch the mailboxes all night long’ thing was crazy enough.
I rubbed my temples and shook my head. Shit, I was exhausted and all that for nothing.
The moment I fell into my bed I was deep asleep.
After that day, I made it a conscious effort to ignore whatever was going on here. Who knows, maybe that person did it all to get a reaction out of me. Maybe they were watching me, and maybe they’d seen me tearing up postcards and talking to the mailman. Maybe if I stopped caring they’d tire of their antics?
Either way, I told myself I’d better things to do than to worry about freaking postcards.
Still, whenever I was in the kitchen, I found myself at the window, staring down at the mailbox for a little while before I moved on.
I checked my mail occasionally. When I went to the grocery store or when I returned from an evening walk. Every single time, I found postcards inside and every single time there were more of them. They had to arrive in droves by now. At one point, I pulled out over three dozen of them.
It was the strangest thing, dumbfounding even, but I forced myself not to show a reaction. I wouldn’t give whoever was doing this any sort of satisfaction. No, I took out the postcards, closed my mailbox and went inside where I discarded them.
It was about a week later that my doorbell rang in the late afternoon. When I answered it, one of my neighbors was outside.
“I guess those are for you, aren’t they?” he brought out in a slightly annoyed tone when I opened the door.
I stared at him and then at the stack of postcards in his hand. My eyes grew wide, and I almost cringed back.
“Wait, what? No, those aren’t mine, they are,” I broke up, shaking my head.
“Look, no, those aren’t mine, they are-“
“But that’s your name on them, isn’t it? Right here, on every single one of them,” the man cut me off, his voice now more annoyed.
“Yes, I know, but-“
“Then how about you take them off me?”
“I... fuck, all right!”
With that, I ripped the stack of postcards from his hands.
“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to be a bit friendlier,” he brought out, staring at me.
At first I was about to retort something. To tell him to go fuck himself. But then I told myself to calm down. The guy probably brought them here because he thought the mailman had messed up. He was just trying to be a good neighbor in his own way.
“All right, I’m sorry,” I brought out. “Look, there’s something odd about those postcards.”
The guy’s face didn’t change. Instead, he kept staring at me.
“Someone’s been dumping them into my mailbox for weeks. Hell, probably for a month by now. Every day I find those stupid cards inside. Look, there’s not even a message on them! It’s all just those stupid smiley faces. I don’t know why they put them in your mailbox, but maybe they want to fuck with other people as well.”
“Who are... they?” the man asked me in a half-concerned, half-confused voice once my rant was over.
“Shit, I don’t know! The ones who are doing this, who are fucking with me, fucking with you!”
By now the man had grown apprehensive and taken a few steps away from me.
“Look, I’m not looking for any trouble,” he said, raising his hands in a defensive posture.
At that moment, I got an idea.
“Hold on, let’s go back to the mailboxes.”
“Why’d I-?” the guy started, but after a few moments of standing there confused and lost, he followed me.
After a few moments we were back outside, me standing in front of the mailboxes and him keeping a safe distance from who he thought to be a madman. After a quick turn of the key, I opened my mailbox. A flood of postcards descended upon me. The entire mailbox had been filled to the brim. The last ones had been stuffed inside with such force they’d crumbled.
“What the hell?” the man behind me brought out.
“That’s what I thought,” I reasoned. “They probably dumped the rest into another mailbox, into yours.”
“Look, if this is your idea of a joke, then-“
“What the hell kind of joke would that be? Look, there’s got to be dozens in here, maybe hundreds. Why’d I buy all those postcards just to play a joke on you?”
“Why’d anyone?”
This time, I couldn’t answer.
For a few more moments he stood there before he shook his head and left me alone with all my postcards. As I stared at the filled up mailbox, at the postcards who’d rained down on my feet, I couldn’t help but laugh.
This was insane, this was just utterly insane.
Over the course of the next days, things didn’t get better. More and more neighbors showed up at my door. The nice old lady from floor number three, a student from floor number six, and a young mother from down the hallway. Every single one of them would ring my doorbell to hand me a stack of postcards addressed to me that had accidentally been delivered to them.
As quietly and as normal as I could, I explained to them that someone was playing a trick on me. I told them to just ignore any cards addressed to me or throw them away.
They all nodded, but I could see the puzzlement on their faces, the confusion and the apprehension.
I could tell they were all wondering if this was my doing, and I was sure they considered me the local crazy guy by now.
It wasn’t long before even the mailman rang my doorbell. He told me there was a problem, and he had to speak to me for a moment.
When he saw who I was, he frowned.
“You know this is a problem, don’t you?” he asked, pointing at the mailboxes.
“What do you-?” I started but broke up.
Half of the mailboxes were stuffed with postcards.
I couldn’t help but laugh nervously, which prompted an angry glance from the mailman.
“That’s got to be hundreds... thousands,” I eventually brought out.
“Yeah, and I can’t deliver the mail, thanks to them. What are you going to do about it?”
“What am I... what?”
“Well, they are all addressed to you. This is clearly related to you!”
“But, I don’t, ugh,” I broke up in frustration.
By now, another neighbor had arrived, staring at her mailbox.
“Not again,” she brought out as she opened her mailbox and tore dozens upon dozens of crumbled up postcards from it.
As I watched, as I stared at all those stuffed mailboxes, I knew this wasn’t a prank anymore. No, something strange was going on here, something extremely strange.
I pulled out my phone and called the police. I made my report as vague as possible, telling them someone was stalking me and damaging the mailboxes at my apartment building.
When they arrived, I told them about the full situation. They listened intently, but I could see the look on their faces.
The longer I went on talking, the more angry they seemed to get.
I was quick to lead them to the mailboxes and pointed at the general chaos. Their anger dissipated almost instantly and was replaced by confusion.
“And, how long has this... whatever this is, been going on?” one of them asked while his colleague stepped up to the mailboxes.
“I guess, about a month and a half,” I started. “At first it was only a single postcard, but then more and more of them arrived, and now it’s come to this.”
The two police officers did the best to handle the entire situation professionally, but I could tell they were as perplexed as I was.
They asked me if I had any enemies, but I answered I couldn’t think of anyone. I told them I’d tried to figure out who was behind this for weeks, but I had no clue. I even told them of my nightly watch.
Eventually, one of them handed me his card with a phone number on it. They told me they’d take some postcards with them and look into it and they’d have someone to watch the nearby area.
With the police here and them taking action, I was sure this thing would finally end. Stuffing all those mailboxes had to take time, and I was sure they’d catch whoever was responsible.
The next morning, however, I found all the mailboxes in chaos again. Mine was so stuffed, I was surprised the door was still closed. Almost all other mailboxes were in a similar condition.
As I stood there, I took out my phone and called the number on the card the police officer had given me.
He answered, and I told him it had happened again. The man listened, but he couldn’t tell me much. They had someone watching the area, but so far, they hadn’t been able to see anyone suspicious.
The weird deliveries continued, and soon I wasn’t the only one in contact with the police. And yet, they never found out who was behind it, saw no one.
Even stranger, though, were the postcards themselves. None of them showed any label or a hint of a manufacturer. The same was true for the stamps.
And yet, nothing could be done and postcards kept arriving.
Before long people began pressuring the renting company. Something had to be done about this absurd situation. I knew some of them wanted me gone from the building while others wanted them to hire a mailbox security who’d watch it at all hours of the day.
The renting company, however, had a different plan. One day, they sent a maintenance team that took down the entirety of the mailboxes and simply moved them inside into the entry hallway of the building.
When I woke up the next morning, the first thing I did was to check on the mailboxes. Other people did the same thing.
I think we were all expecting them to be filled to the brim once more. Instead, everything was normal. There were no postcards with my name and silly smile faces on them anywhere.
I could see the relaxed faces of people around me, could hear them sigh in relief and talk about how it was finally over. And I couldn’t help but join in. They were still wary of me, still wondering how I’d spawned that madness, but I didn’t care.
Instead, still smiling, I went back to my apartment. I hadn’t even had coffee yet, I thought to myself.
With quick steps, I made my way towards my kitchen.
For the first time in weeks, hell, in more than a month, the world felt normal again. All I wanted right now was a nice, hot cup of coffee.
All those feelings vanished and changed the pure terror when I opened the kitchen door.
Right there, on my kitchen table and on the floor all around it, I found an uncountable number of postcards.
With a shaking hand, I picked up one of them. On it I found a postal stamp, my name and address and a stupid little smiley face.
And as I stared at it, as I stared at that silly, stupid little face, I couldn’t help but smile myself, smile and laugh about the absurdity of this entire mad situation.

So today I took the car for maintenance to do fuel induction system service, oil change, alignment.
I drove it to some family's place later the day and as I headed home at night, I felt the wheels swirl and lights came on. The check engine, the tire pressure, abs light all came on.
I parked the car, turned it off then back on. The other lights went off except the engine. I revealed the gas cap to assure it was tight. The light was still on
I went to get my tools then removed the battery and cleaned some corrosion off a bit.
Afterwards the car wouldn't power. Everything I put the negative terminal on I see bit of spark and small smoke
I used a load tester meter battery tester to measure it was about between 10 and 12v but still in between the green to yellow area. the tester got hot and started smoking.
The car door lights come on. The top lights near sunroof can barely light up its tiny orange. When I try to step on break to push start button there's a tiny click noise and heard a tiny spark then Everything goes quiet after. Headlights and smart key buttons won't work.
What could it be? Battery is my first guess. I've had it for 2yrs and there have always been white corrosion build up on terminal. Could the corrosion cause a problem with conducting power?
Could it be the maintenance people doing something to my car?

My dad got me a 2012 Chevy Cruze LT in October for my birthday ($5,600) it’s been having issues since I got it, first with the tire pressure sensors which turned out to be my tires, not the sensors. Two months ago when I was turning on some roundabouts I got a warning about oil spillage for like .02 seconds and then it stopped, it started making noises so I put oil in it and it would go away so I’ve just been adding oil to my car. This morning my car did the oil spill warning again when I turned a lil too hard and it immediately went away but no noise this time. I went to my boyfriends house after school and when I left and pulled into my road my car tells me that my tire pressure is low (28) and as soon as I pulled into my driveway I checked my tire and there was no nail or anything and it was full. I’m assuming air came out because my road is a little rough but I’ll check it tomorrow before school. I also turned my car on again to see the pressure and my car didn’t wanna turn on for a second but it did eventually. Can anyone give me reliable car suggestions? Or what I could possibly trade the car for (fixed or not fixed, I live in Arkansas).

My dad got me a 2012 Chevy Cruze LT in October for my birthday ($5,600) it’s been having issues since I got it, first with the tire pressure sensors which turned out to be my tires, not the sensors. Two months ago when I was turning on some roundabouts I got a warning about oil spillage for like .02 seconds and then it stopped, it started making noises so I put oil in it and it would go away so I’ve just been adding oil to my car. This morning my car did the oil spill warning again when I turned a lil too hard and it immediately went away but no noise this time. I went to my boyfriends house after school and when I left and pulled into my road my car tells me that my tire pressure is low (28) and as soon as I pulled into my driveway I checked my tire and there was no nail or anything and it was full. I’m assuming air came out because my road is a little rough but I’ll check it tomorrow before school. I also turned my car on again to see the pressure and my car didn’t wanna turn on for a second but it did eventually. Can anyone give me reliable car suggestions? Or what I could possibly trade the car for (fixed or not fixed, I live in Arkansas).

I am a grad student that works on AI research and have been involved in projects that take text prompts and generate images, 3D models, and other things. I've worked in this research space for a few years (when the images were still very poor and on early versions of multimodal problems). I came across this thread, while working today and felt very apologetic reading through it. I do think about the ethics of my work constantly, but don't have that many outlets to engage with people outside of the research community. I know there are very real concerns about livelihoods and entire workflows changing, about how to compete with people and businesses who leverage AI tools, and about how copyright should be handled.
I felt inclined to post today because the Blender community is one that has always inspired me, because I used to freelance and struggled for a long time to learn Blender. I never made anything as special as the stuff that is posted here daily. I have a few comments to make about my field (generative AI).

• Some of the sentiments had some misconceptions about the goals of AI researchers. Generally AI researchers are focused on improving a generative model so that it captures the diversity and detail (fidelity) of the datasets they work with. There is intense competition within the AI field to have the best numbers for accuracy. For example in 3D, some of the best data out there is shapes of furniture and artifacts (ShapeNet). A top paper would present numbers claiming that their model can produce furniture shapes that don't lose much detail compared to the original furniture shape dataset. Because it boils down to these simple numbers, the "AI-takes-jobs" problem and framing then becomes a lot more distant. In the moment you're writing a paper, you are just looking at numbers that try to justify your mathematical formulation.
• We have to write ethics statements at the end of papers, but we aren't responsible for understanding more downstream impacts. There are other fields that are slowly integrating with machine learning to study human factors, but there's a disconnect.
• What I am trying to say in the past two points is that because there is pressure and competition within the AI research world, those pressures are leading to these Pandora boxes (ChatGPT, Midjourney) that the law and business fields have not figured out how to safety belt yet. The low-level incentives for an AI researcher are obviously leading to broader impacts that they are untrained for mitigating.
• Image models came first because there are so many more images online. There are generative 3D models, they just are less impressive. It is my personal belief however that people won't like generative 3D outputs as much because they will come in blobs with a lot of artifacts (like a bad handmade ceramic that is hard to work with and work off of).
• For every person who dislikes the AI tool, there is another novice person who feels enabled by it to do 2D/3D creation. That is the new end user for businesses. There are also other creatives who enjoy adopting it as part of their workflow. This will probably lead to significant friction within teams and businesses. The original post I referenced talked about someone disliking that other people could prompt. I understand--I dislike when people use ChatGPT to co-write research papers with me. There are a lot of social dynamics that will be interrupted by AI.
• On a different note, people want to work with people. Good work gets done not because the team has the best technical talent or the best technology, but because people show up for other people.

A way to check AI's power is to assert how much value you see in it. If someone simply generates an image, you can say "I won't pay that much for it" or that you don't believe in it as art. -- But if someone is using AI outputs as part of their process innovatively, putting real effort into building on top of it, then I believe they are creating something of value, even if there is AI involvement. Art has always been a field where the value is assigned by culture and people, so we're all setting the tone right now for how AI is perceived.
tl;dr I am an optimist, and I think that creativity will change--but it will definitely survive.
I am open to questions if people have any. Please be kind. I'm a young and tired student who is scared to post this but I'm just going to hit the button.

I should have found a safe room before I made my move.
Now I was running in shin-high water through a field of lotuses from the aswang chasing me, and I had no idea where to go. I could only hope the creature currently running after me was a simple vampire or ghoul aswang, rather than the more fearsome variants.
Running past a black marble pillar, I stumbled and fell to the lotuses on something. I looked down and realized I had tripped on a piece of wood sticking out of the pillar. It was the handle to a door! My excitement, however, was short-lived as I looked up and saw the aswang right in front of me.
The creature lunged atop me, trying to bite into my arm only to be met with a kick to the face. This didn’t deter it, however, as it grabbed my leg and sunk its fangs into my right calf. I screamed in pain, trying to land a punch, but I had no momentum. My hits only glanced off its skin until I sunk my foot into its gut. Even then, its jaw refused to let go, and took a chunk of my leg as payment for my kick.
I couldn’t run. My only hope was making it into the safe room, but I had to somehow stop it from seeing me open the door. So I had to fight back.
Tears of pain flowed down my cheeks as I used my good leg to launch myself onto the prone aswang. I mounted it, and gripped its head as it retaliated by grabbing my bad leg just below the knee.
There’s few words to describe the pain my leg was in. A chunk of my calf had been torn out, and my blood spread out into the shallow water of the lotus field. When the aswang gripped my leg, it dug its claws in and squeezed with the power of a hydraulic press. Its effects were akin to that of a tourniquet - blood no longer left the wound in my leg due to the sheer pressure.
I heard a sickening snap as my shin broke. The pain nearly made me black out, and I was only able to stay conscious by biting my lower lip with as much force as I could, the sting on my face and the taste of copper in my mouth anchoring me to consciousness.
I lifted my thumbs. I had one goal, and that was to stop the aswang from seeing me. With a horrid squelch sound, I put out the aswang’s eyes, assisted less by my muscles and more by gravity as I collapsed upon the creature’s body.
The aswang released its grip and writhed in pain, clutching its face as I reached for the door handle. I opened it, and fell into the room below.
I needed to patch up my wounds. I used about half of my shirt to make strips and wrapped them around the bite. It hurt like a bitch, but was luckily a shallow enough wound that I didn’t need to worry about bleeding out. I then took two pieces of wood nearby and attached them to both sides of my leg, using some more strips from my shirt and tying them to my leg.
After I finished making the splint, I looked around the room. I had fallen in through a short tunnel from the door, either not noticing the ladder or being too panicked to think about using it. The bottom two rungs had been broken off - I suppose I broke it during my fall, and used it for my splint.
The room was decently sized, about the size of a big bedroom. A makeshift bed laid at the end of the room. It seemed to have been made from woven lotus stems and filled with wilted lotus flowers for cushioning. Whoever made it had a lot of time on their hands. The sides of the walls were lined with - were those bones? Those were bones. Whoever dug this room out must have had an easier foe than me. Shelves were dug out into the sides of the walls, and were supported by abnormally long bones. More bones rested on the shelves, many carved into spears. I tried to compose myself, and hopped my way over to the bed. I was too tall for it, with my legs hanging off the end up to the bite in my calf.
I grabbed some unsharpened bones on my way to the bed, and spent the next few hours constructing a sketchy, but ultimately functional crutch out of the bones with the last strips of my shirt tied around them. I was tired. I didn’t know what variant of the Indian opening I was going to be up against, but you always play the same second move. Already knowing what I was going to play, I laid my head on the pillow and went to sleep.
I suppose I was lucky enough to be familiar with aswang. It seems I was no exception to rule 4a, and a spark of dread made its way into my drowsy head as I realized what the other pieces represented.
No matter what, I could not move my queen.
I woke up to an aching pain in my leg. It was to be expected. I would have to figure out a plan, and fast. I had no way of fighting off any more aswang in my current condition, but I also had to make more moves unless I wanted to deal with a horde of them with working eyes. I looked at the sharpened bones on the shelf. Perfect spears.
I wouldn’t be able to do any form of spear combat though. The best thing I could do was throw them, but with only one working leg I wouldn’t be able to put much force into it. It wasn’t like I had any other choices though, so I stood up and began gathering some spears. As I picked up one of them, I looked at the shelf and smiled. I finally had a lucky break. One of the bones had been carved into an atlatl.
I tested how well I could throw the bone spear with the atlatl. To my relief, I was able to embed the spear into the wall over two inches deep.
I had some difficulties climbing the ladder, and I was only able to carry three spears and the atlatl with me, but it would have to be enough. When I reached the door, I opened it as little as I could, just enough to peek through. I looked through the crack and saw the aswang, still holding its face in its hands as it paced around the area about 8 metres away. I looked up to the sky, and saw it was nearing sunset. I could make my move again. But another aswang would be appearing very soon.
I stepped out of the door. At the sound of me stepping into the water, the aswang’s head snapped to my direction just as it did before. Rather than its bloodshot eyes, however, I saw only the eerie blank space of its sockets. It ran at me. I let loose the spear.
I missed.
The spear flew past its head, and it ran towards me and threw a punch. My only hope of dodging was to lean my head as far to the side as I could.
The aswang’s fist dug into the black marble pillar just past its wrist. It raised its other hand, but before it threw another punch, the spear I threw saved me. A loud ting sound rang from where the spear had hit the pillar behind the aswang, causing it to momentarily turn its head. I took the opportunity, and used my good leg to launch myself onto the aswang once more. This time, however, I was on its back. My weight dragged it to the lakebed with me, and we fell into the lotuses with my arms around its neck in a rear naked choke. Not knowing where to attack, it swiped its claws in the air wildly before a sickening snap came from its neck and it went limp.
No sooner than when I released it and I stood back up did I see its body begin to twitch. My foe stood back up. I threw one of my spears past the aswang and away from the chessboard, which stood 20 metres away. I stayed as still and silent as possible, not even daring to turn my head around as the aswang ran towards the spear that bounced off another column. One spear left.
I was still 5 metres away from the chessboard when a mass of marble and lotuses began rising next to it. The sun had gone down yet again. 24 hours had passed. I went as fast as I could, nearly stumbling twice. I saw two lotuses on the front turn white and shift and shrink into eyes. Two petals on the sides of the mass stretched and turned into elvenesque, pointy ears. Jagged shards of white marble formed themselves into a toothy grin. Eventually, the entire mass became smooth, shifting in hue to an olive brown. Vines grew over the mass, turning into the aswang’s robes and taking on bright coloured patterns. The thing’s head shifted towards me, and I was met with bloodshot eyes. It launched itself towards me. And in the span of less than a second, the transformation reversed itself. It fell past the chessboard in a heap of broken lotus flowers and cracked marble. I had touched the chessboard.
Now I had to make my move.
The rules said nothing of how much time I had to make my move, but I took a risk and stood there for a few minutes. I gazed around at the endless lotus field and impossibly tall black marble pillars. The vines wreathed around the pillars and over the shallow lakebed, all in front of a background of a galaxy of shining stars. The sun’s orange glow faded as it fell past the horizon, and my surroundings were overtaken by hues of blues and purples.
I looked at one of the lotuses adorning the chessboard. It was delicate, with a vibrant yellow bulb in the center accented by a crown of petals, white in the centre and expanding to a beautiful pink at the edges. This felt like a dream. This was the deadliest situation I’d ever been in, yet in this moment I felt nothing but peace.
I unconsciously shifted my weight, and the sharp pain in my calf brought me back to the current situation. I already knew what move I was going to play. The most common and solid move against the Indian defense was to play c4 and move the king’s bishop pawn up two spaces. It grabbed space in the center and capitalized on the slower playstyle of the opening. It was imperative that I not lose the position - while white enjoys a large spatial advantage, it is nearly impossible to make a comeback if black obtains a winning position.
I looked at the four columns surrounding the chessboard, each a little over 5 metres from me. A large canopy of vines hung between the columns, easily enough to support my weight. Lower-hanging vines could be used as ropes to pull myself up. The note had said there were safe rooms in the columns and under the lakebed. Those columns were easily large enough to hold a small room. I doubted there were no doors in the vine canopy.
I went to step away from the chessboard. As I did, the mass of lotuses and marble slowly began to rise again. I immediately stepped back to the board, and it fell down once more. I sighed. I had a game plan. I just hoped I could execute it in 60 seconds.
I moved the king’s bishop pawn two spaces forwards. The board responded with e6 and moved the king’s pawn up one square. I went towards the column as fast as the crutch would allow me. I had a good amount of time to climb when I reached the column - About 45 seconds. I put my arm through the gap in the crutch and held it on my arm as I climbed. It was a difficult task, but I was able to make it up onto the canopy about 3 metres off the ground. I looked down. Not good. The aswang was nearly fully formed. The only option I could think of was to hide. I went to the side of the column opposite the chessboard, praying the vines did not snap. After what felt like hours in under five seconds, I heard the sound of the aswang walking. I held my breath.
The walking sounds were getting quieter.
Not even daring to breathe a sigh of relief, I looked across the canopy, and my previous suspicions were confirmed. A small wooden handle was attached to the column across from me. A safe room.
Quietly as possible, I crawled along the thickest parts of the canopy, avoiding any risk of a vine snapping and sending me to the ground, alerting the aswang, or both. Eventually, I reached the door. I opened it and crawled my way inside.
Inside the column was a cylindrical room close to 2 metres across. The room itself went up very high, nearly 10 metres, and marble platforms jutted out from the walls, turning the room into some kind of spiral staircase.
I decided to climb. Ten platforms up, the platform had the 19x19 grid of a Go board carved into it, and the next platform was indented and held hundreds of black and white marble tiles. I accidentally knocked a few of them off as I climbed up. A few platforms later was the 8x8 grid of a chessboard, and the next platform was similarly indented to hold the pieces. A few more platforms up and I reached the top. The top was a large platform that acted as effectively a floor as opposed to a step. It stretched across the room, and was padded by a large pile of now wilted lotuses. I wasn’t able to lay down straight on it, but I was able to get into a relatively comfortable position if I curled up slightly. Next to the pile were three bone things. They looked similar to a clothes hanger, being a hook attached to a handle on each side.
I looked behind me and saw there was a door.
Cautiously, I opened it. There was no canopy here, and if I stepped out I’d find myself plummeting to the aswang below. But what there was, was a thick braid of five vines tied around the column at the base of the door, leading above the chessboard to a column 20 metres away.
It was a zipline. That could come in handy.
I decided to play through some more practice games before I went to sleep. I went down to the chessboard platform and grabbed the pieces from the next platform up. Underneath the pieces, however, was a piece of paper. I picked it up. It contained only two words, repeated on the page over and over.
“DON’T CASTLE.”

I drive a 2017 Toyota Yaris iA and got my oil changed recently at a shop, I did the fluids/filter changes myself.
I’ve had 3 tire shops confirm that there is nothing wrong with my tires and full of air with the correct PSI in each one. However, my tire pressure light won’t turn off! All 4 tires purchased in the last year too with normal weatear.
Same for the fluids. I just put in new coolant and windshield washer fluid, both maintenance lights remain on even at proper levels.
My theory is that my TMPS sensor is worn out, but I’m unsure of why the other warnings won’t clear? Is it a bad fuse or are other sensors worn out?
Any help is much appreciated..

I'm 19. I'm the oldest sibling of 3. And all my life, I have always been the golden child. The perfect daughter. The shining representation of what a successful young woman should be. The one who has perfect manners, constantly helps everyone when asked, takes the lead with planning family events, caters to everyone, keeps everyone happily entertained and stays away from everything considered rebellious because "I'm simply not that kind of person". And I have to constantly be that perfect representation, or I'll be looked down on from family.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not here to gloat about my "perfect" life or to say I'm better than everyone. I'm here to express how tired I am of being held up on that pedestal.
In any case, I want just once in my life to do SOMETHING rebellious. Not anything crazy, but something. And of my own choice too.
I've never been to a party before, ever, unless it was a family birthday. I've never snuck out of the house to go do dumb shit with friends in the night; the only thing I've done was sneak out my window to read a book under the tree in the front yard when I was supposed to be asleep for school. I was never able to go from school straight to the mall with friends, I always had to come straight home. I've only ever had some light drinks with my mother, here at home, where we just got slightly tipsy. And I've eaten edibles a couple times, also with my mother. My mother is allergic to weed, so she had a horrible experience. I was not allergic, and loved every moment of being high. But after those couple times, my mother shunned the use of it. Mainly because SHE had a bad experience, and because she can't dream of her perfect eldest daughter continuing the use of it.
Again, don't get me wrong. I love my life. I'm greatful to be close with my family, and to have that family to rely on. My family isn't perfect, nor are we rich. But we have enough money, and enough love, to get by. We're all very close, and I'm forever greatful to have that in my life.
But still, I want so badly to do something rebellious, and of my own decision.
For example, vaping (since that sounds fun), or to start using weed again on my own during weekends for a bit of enjoyment. I honestly have no idea what it is I could do, because I'm so out of the loop with all that stuff, that I'm not even sure what all is out there.
When I was high, my anxiety was gone and I felt like I could finally be myself, relaxed and unbothered by the pressure to be perfect. And I've also had countless dreams of vaping, and tasting something delicious as I breathed the vapors in, and watching in awe as I blew the beautiful cloud of smoke out in front of me. I've also enjoyed when I had some drinks, because the flavors are delicious and being tipsy is like being at the very beginning of being high.
So yes, I've experienced some small things. But that was with my mother, and only a couple times.
When I get the chance to move out, I want to buy a vape, or to buy weed. I don't know if I want to smoke, or what. I'm not sure how I'd feel after starting it, or if it'd be bad enough that I at some point couldn't hide it from family. I obviously don't want to start, and become so addicted to it that it becomes my life. Nor do I want to do it and become an addict so bad I can't keep a steady job or a home.
Obviously I will keep myself healthy, and still be the caring and helpful person I've always been, with a college degree (which I'm working towards) and a stable job. But is it bad that I want to do something like this? To start vaping or using weed?
God 🤦🏻‍♀️😅 I don't want to sound rude, or incompetent, or anything. I promise I don't think about anyone like that. I'm just such a beginner at all this stuff that I just... I need advice. Or, reassurance. Or confirmation. Or a hug.

I'm Doing a series of polls to determine the fan favorite show of every current World Class drum corps (plus Santa Clara Vanguard and Star of Indiana for bonus). I will only include shows that made it to finals, so corps like Genesis and Pacific Crest will not have a poll due to never having a finals appearance, and one-time finals corps like The Academy and Seattle Cascades will have their respective finals shows win by default.
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Yesterday's poll was the Colts, which gives us easily the biggest blowout in the polls so far!

1. 2022 - The Silk Road (59.3%)
2. 2007 - Equinox (16.28%)
3. 1993 - Iowa's Four Seasons (6.98%)
4. 1999 - Voices (5.81%)
5. 1995 - Sunday in the Park with George (4.65%)

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Next up is the Crossmen!
Vote Here: https://strawpoll.com/polls/XOgONeaern3
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Results so Far
The Academy: 2016 - Drum Corpse Bride (by default)
Blue Devils: 2017 - Metamorph (21.35% of votes)
Blue Knights: 2014 - That One Second (26.92%)
Blue Stars: 2022 - Of War & Peace (17.13%)
Bluecoats: 2014 - Tilt (18.63%)
Boston Crusaders: 2022 - Paradise Lost (25.46%)
The Cadets: 2011 - Between Angels and Demons (24.16%)
Carolina Crown: 2013 - e=mc^2 (20.78%)
The Cavaliers: 2002 - Frameworks (25.74%)
Colts: 2022 - The Silk Road (59.3%)
Crossmen:
Genesis: N/A
Jersey Surf: N/A
Madison Scouts:
Mandarins:
Music City: N/A
Pacific Crest: N/A
Phantom Regiment:
Seattle Cascades: 2002 - City Riffs: The Music of Leonard Bernstein (by default)
Spirit of Atlanta:
Troopers:

Lately my life has been feeling empty and sad. I hate my life sometimes and if possible most of the time. I hate that I want to get good grades but I just cant, I get distracted by the slightest things. I hate that my family is rude most of the time and always put pressure on me and they don't realize it. I hate my school life, how people point out my insecurities. I hate how even my own friends leave me out of things. I always have to start up the conversation and if I don't my friends won't even think of my existence. I hate how my siblings are so rude and demeaning, how my mom embarrasses me in front of people, how my dad is sadist most times.
I just feel empty, I feel hollow, I feel like there is no purpose in my life and I just don't know why. There was a point in my life I felt so suicidal that I almost tried to do it. I'm tired and I don't know what to do anymore. If I killed myself would anyone even care?

I want to start by saying that after all of this, the person mainly involved in this story is someone whom I still have some degree of appreciation for due to how they helped me when I was unemployed for years of my life.
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That being said, this is going to be a long one.
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Back in 2018, I was hired by a company that was pretty much just starting up. The company does official repairs on Apple products and I was hired as a technician to help maintain the volume of repairs in control. Back then, there was only 1 technician working there and then there was the owner who was the person who called me and asked me to come in. I knew the owner from my previous job experience at another company that performed official Apple repairs. When I worked for this company, the owner would come in and bring devices in bulk for us to repair so they could resell them. That's how they remembered me and they found me on LinkedIn for the sole purpose of asking me to come in and help out at this new company they have started. The problem with this, initially, was the only other tech there was not informed of this or consulted. From what I learned, the other tech had been working there for a long time and, because there was no one to cover for them, they hadn't been able to take a vacation or some days off. It got to the point that the other tech forced their time off and vacation so the owner was probably forced in getting someone to cover for them. So I did.
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It was hard to cover for someone when you do not know the nuances and procedures that needed to be followed in order to do things properly. The other tech was not there, and the owner had NO idea on how things were ran or what to do in specific situations, so my new coworker was forced to call me and just explain some things I needed to do to keep some form of order there. The days passed and my new coworker finally came back from their vacation, so things got better.
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There is one key thing about this person though that I did not mention. I have worked with them before at the same job I met the owner! I worked with them for about a year because they were fired due to a sudden change in leadership at my previous job. They were fired due to being unable to attend a meeting with the new owner of that company. Yes... They were on vacation then too. Anyways.
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As days passed at my new job, some issues with the location we were in began to boil up. The place that was rented for our business was shared with another company and the two owners butted heads with one another about some things. I was never clear on that, but it culminated in the owner of my company, now my boss, starting to scout out for a new place to be. During this process and the changes to come, I was asked not to come to work again and that they would be in contacted with me in a few weeks or a month to see whether I would return. The remaining tech helped a lot with the move and relocation of the business, new people were hired to help out and it eventually became a more proper repair shop. It took some time, but I was eventually called back to work there again.
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It is now somewhere in 2019. The business is going fine. Obviously, the first tech at the company was the one in charge and taking care of the administrative side of things, working directly with my boss to manage the business. I was solely a tech and worked on fixing what needed to be fixed. A point came in which I mainly focused on fixing iOS devices (iPhones, iPads, Watches, etc) and the other two techs there (a third was hired) would do the computers. Of course, I would help out whenever the queue would get busy on the Mac side of things; though rarely came the time I would get help when my queue of iOS devices got high. Either way, that's how it was.
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As time passed and we continued to work, I started to notice a change in the lead tech's behavior. They would space out more and go on break for a full hour, and even lock themselves in the bathroom to smoke marijuana (right inside of the business), and even began to yell more often and treat us all bad. The tech room would often reek of it, and that's just always a smell that I really disliked, but what could I do? An additional thing about my coworker's personality is that things had to be done their way and it was often pretty difficult to convince them otherwise. We had different ideas sometimes, and we often argued a lot about it. I started to speak with my boss directly more often and they agreed that how the lead tech was beginning to treat all of us was just not right and that they were aware of them being absent for such long periods of time. My boss was no longer very happy with how things were going with them, so new people were hired with the goal that the lead tech was going to be eventually fired. They also explained to me they never liked saying who was above anyone else, that we should not worry about job titles, that we work together as a team and that there is no one in charge. I, amongst my other coworkers, found this to be very odd, but we shrugged it off. This is more relevant further down the story.
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The day they were fired was a chaotic one because it meant someone had to immediately assume all of the administrative responsibilities that they were in charge of. The person to do that was me, but I was never formally trained on how to do it and I was forced to rely solely on my previous experiences along with my intuition on how things worked. Not to mention, it was now early 2020 and we were in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic, so special considerations and changes were needed to accommodate the changing work environment. Luckily, I had a pretty good understanding and knowledge on how the system we used for ticket, customer, and inventory tracking worked, so I was able to learn more from there. The new person that was hired during this transitional period is very important for later in the story, so keep in the mind! Anyways, I was swarmed with a list of new tasks and responsibilities, but I also got a pay raise, so I felt it was worth it at the time. I then started to work heavily on making sense of the system and logistically connect modules with each other to form procedures with the aim of reducing the time customers take during the initial check in. I built the company a PHP form so customer can directly enter their details into the system along with the ability for them to provide a signature to our terms & conditions without the need of the person at the front desk to do it for them manually. (Yes, we also had a receptionist by then). Other changes that helped us all out were made and all of them made things better one way or another.
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More time passed, we continued to work and push the business forward. I was now working directly with my boss to handle the administrative side of the company. I was fully in charge of the system, making changes how I saw fit. I tried to explain to my boss why the changes needed to happen, but they never seemed to understand much on how everything worked, so they left it to me and my best judgement. It was during this time, after many meetings with them, that I started to see just how out of touch and unsynchronized with how our repair process worked. They didn't even know how to properly take care of a customer at the front, something that still holds true today! Albeit, not as bad as it was. Anyway. I began to pick up on these things and we started to argue about it; they would always do most of the talking and I would listen, but I would later reflect on what we talked and then I would give my opinion. A time came in which they decided to get someone else to take the helm on the administrative side of things because they were not seeing any "progress". I was still held highly and worked closely with whom they hired next to do said job.
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To cut down a bit from the story, about 3 different people came in to do the admin side, all of which left because they saw quickly how it was to work with my boss. After the third person left, I had told them that this fourth person coming in would be the last time that I would invest in explaining how everything worked. After all, for each of those people, I had to sit one-on-one with them and basically onboard them on the processes and procedures that needed to be followed in order to keep our account in good standing and maintain our system with minimal errors. As you all may imagine, it is very tiring to have to do this process over and over again after you have your hopes up that this FINALLY may be the person to be able to properly work with my boss and maintained things how they needed to be maintained. But nope. They left as well.
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I should have left right then and there, given my two weeks, and begun my search for a new job. You see, another major factor that had me rethinking things about this job was the very fact that, from the start, we all were paid with a 1099 (AKA Independent Contractors) and not with W2s. The duties and responsibilities we had at this job demanded for a W2, but since the company was fairly small and not well-established yet, we were always lenient on demanding this from our employer; however, we were always hopeful that the day would come this could be implemented. There was a very short period in which it was implemented, a whole two weeks! Then it was removed. It never was implemented again, but I stayed regardless now solely based on the fact that I considered my boss to still be a good, honest person who was just having a really tough time keeping things afloat and just doing what they could to help all of us out. (After all, they DID hire me when I was not working for years before, so I cannot be gracious enough to them about that). We still managed to work out through it, and my boss had brought someone from their own family to help out; that person lasted a month! And they left like everyone else.
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It was around this time that the coworker mentioned from earlier (the one that was mostly hired to fire the one who smoked marijuana) was given the "helm" per say (even though my boss never liked to say it officially), so I began to butt heads with this coworker because they were under the impression that the situation at the workplace stemmed from my inability to be firm and take charge. Sure, I was not the most firm and demanding person, but how could I ever go against the wishes of my boss? The new coworker in charge began to speak more directly with my boss while I started to go back to being a technician and helping out with the queue. I was still consulted when they were going to make big changes, but no more than that. Even though I was fuming at the current changes that were being made, because I honestly thought I had done nothing wrong and people who were previously hired to do the admin job leaving because of my boss was a clear testament to that, I managed to collect myself and eventually work together with my coworker to both challenge our boss on their unproductive ideas. We started to work together, and instead of my coworker being fully in charge, we started to see it as we both were in charge. My coworker handled more of the workload distribution, and tech room management while I handled administrative tasks such as checking for errors in the system and fix discrepancies.
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One thing I forgot to mention was that the system always had errors (as does any system in any company) but I kept those errors to a bare minimum, I'd say about 10% of it had errors that were not fixed; however, there was a time in which I was asked to no longer do that activity, so pretty much being forced to stop. When I did that, errors skyrocketed and it was just so bad that they had to put me back to do it.
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To no one's surprise, my coworker eventually got really fed up with my boss. It got to the point that the few of us who worked there formed a WhatsApp group solely so we can talk amongst ourselves about how things were never going to improve and that this was all for nothing. We talked shit, you know, to vent our frustrations about the environment we worked in. Specially since about 70% of meetings we had with our boss, both 1-on-1 and as a team, would result in screaming and one of us walking out of the meeting angrily. It was just demoralizing and just plainly... sad. My boss also began to hire people without consulting us first, and expect us to train them so they can help out; something we did the first few times this happened, but we stopped nearing the end. My coworker eventually gave their two weeks' notice and my boss, well, they didn't react well. The notice was given to them on a Friday, and my coworker was fired that very Sunday. No notice, no extra time. Just plain gone along with an additional coworker. I later found out that the main motivation behind the firings was the sheer fact that they participated a lot in talking crap about my boss. I was just speechless and angrier than I have ever been.
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The following Monday, I come in and I have a 1-on-1 meeting with my boss. We had sat together before and discussed some key changes that I needed for them to make in order to remain employed at their company. I had asked them to provide me with a proper W2, and another pay raise since it had been two years before my previous one. In the meeting we had that Monday, they pretty much told me that my pay raise was still "under review" and that a new person they had hired that very Monday was going to "supervise" me and that I had to work closely with them and my boss to move things along. I mentally checked out as I heard them talk and for the rest of the day, I focused my efforts in gathering all the files and documents I had for the company, make sure I didn't have extra copies of sensitive information such as payroll or client data (I kept track of all the things related to the company and did all of the hours for the employees). I copied it all to an external drive for my boss. The thing about that Monday, though, is that amidst this new drama that had come up, our boss had failed to pay us. Our pay always came on a Friday, bi-weekly, and they had not paid us when we were due that day... a recurring theme if I am to be honest. Our boss, more often that not, was always late on paying us when we were due; what I did on that Monday was told my boss that I urgently needed my full pay because I had payments coming up and I didn't have enough to cover them, so they agreed to take me to the bank directly themselves so I could deposit a check that had my full amount due written on it. (I do not drive.)
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Once I made sure my payment was made in full and I copied all of the data relevant for my boss to continue their business, I quit. On the spot. I had called my mom earlier to come pick me up and wanted to wait for her to be outside so I didn't have to wait like an idiot after resigning like that. This is not the end of the story, though! You see, our company always had a "week in reserve" of pay for employees so the company could have some leverage to make sure employees do not take advantage of the company if they get fired or they decide to quit. (Things like taking assets of the company with them without permission), but they were always paid once my boss made sure that none of that was taking place. For my coworkers who were fired, they put their accounts and payments up to date in just a couple of days. With me, though, not so much. I had the misfortune of having experienced some recent damages to devices that were brought in for repair, two consecutive ones at that, and of course I assumed all responsibility for those damages and owned up to my mistakes when they happened. Not for it to be an excuse, but I was under a lot of pressure during that time due to all the things that were happening at the company and was not very careful with those repairs, but I digress. My bad. I took this into consideration before leaving though, and was well aware that the amount of the parts used to fix my mistakes would be deducted from my last week's pay, so I was fine with that.
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What I was NOT fine with was that, almost half a year ago, there was another incident caused by me in which the volume flex cable of an iPhone XS was torn. A $6 part, mind you. The repair cost for this is, at the very most, $80, but my boss decided to handle it differently. They decided to purchase the device from the customer it belonged to for a whopping $250, which is the price the customer (a vendor, really) could sell the phone for. My boss thought it would be a good idea to pass down those $250 down to me and for my last week's pay to cover it when, again, they failed to listen to me that it could simply be repaired for much less. They just needed to take the phone to a different shop because that type of repair was not done at our store; and I told them I would cover the costs of that. In addition to all of this, they also decided that they would charge me an extra $50 for ordering duplicate tools that we already had at the store. Sure, it sucks extra tools were ordered when they are not immediately needed, but the fact stands the tools are there for company use. They are NOT broken or missing.
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The day I quite was on March 6, 2023 and, so fairly recent. My boss now has some people there working for them and trying to hold everything together with that new person they hired on that fateful Monday to "supervise" me along with those two people they hired a few months back without consulting us (one of whom has no idea what to do, and constantly makes mistakes). The employee that works as a receptionist there is leaving soon as well.
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But yeah, that's my story. My boss still owes me the money for my last week's pay and I am actively looking for a new, better job. Wish me luck, guys! Thank you for reading, I know this was a long post. Also, I would like to take a quick moment to say I have not actively participated in forums before (Including Reddit) so hopefully I didn't do anything wrong by writing this post. I just needed to put my thoughts in writing and for other people to understand my perspective on things.