6. Anglia-Magyarország 1-1 A magyar futballválogatott az Albánia elleni kínos hazai vereség után újabb kemény meccset játszik: az Eb-döntős Anglia otthonában, a Wembley-ben kellene helyt állnia, miközben alapemberek hiányoznak. Kövesse élőb; 7. Kiszivárgott a Facebook tiltólistája, amire több magyar zenekar és a Kuruc.info is felkerü...
2021.10.18 00:09 telex_bot Az elhagyatott szellempályaudvar, amely náci kézre jutott, majd föld alatti labor lett
2021.10.18 00:09 sometimes_i_reddit "Oooh baby."
|submitted by sometimes_i_reddit to seinfeld [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 00:09 gave2haze Togglehan
2021.10.18 00:09 sharpieshoeman Royal National Park, Eagle Rock this weekend.
|submitted by sharpieshoeman to sydney [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 00:09 char_coal_eyes (F4A) Horni Trans girl looking for relief
I'd love to have a FWB and have some fun servicing someone... I can be top or bottom. I can't host as i have 4 other house mates. I'm a trans Latina, 5' 7" 125 lbs. I have dark brown wavy hair. I'm open to a lot of kinky stuff so don't hesitate to suggest anything :3
submitted by char_coal_eyes to SFr4r [link] [comments]
2021.10.18 00:09 ThisWillBeFunNA managed to get this bad boy in a trade this morning
2021.10.18 00:09 db19king מה קרה לו...
|submitted by db19king to ani_bm [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 00:09 Sushi7723 [LF] Trading or selling. Trading for a good glb dokkan, selling for a $10 or $20 Nintendo eshop card
|submitted by Sushi7723 to DokkanBattleTrades [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 00:09 luisricom My brain is melting like butter on hot corn
|submitted by luisricom to carolinekonstnar [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 00:09 Afoolfortheeons You Can Change the World - Chapter Two: To Be a Good Person and a Good Friend 
Chapter Two: To Be a Good Friend and a Good Person
It’s too late for me, I fear
I’m just not a worthy peer
My head might be able to steer
But I lack that which is love’s gear
A muse can be a great friend
But it’s not who you want there in the end
I have lots of wounds to mend
But they won’t be healed by playing pretend
There’s no one but me to blame
I have walked a long, winding road of shame
Even if this beast were tamed
My mangled, stillborn heart would still be lame
Into the trailer we went, and as we reunited and spoke with smiles a-plenty, both Vince and Allison showed me their home, with Freya tip-toeing around behind us. Although I would come to see these walls as a home as well, at the time it appeared like any other trailer: there was a central room containing both the kitchen and the living room, with two bed- and bathrooms branching off in opposite directions. Allison’s kitchen was notably cut in half by her loom, as was the living room similarly swallowed by furniture. Along with a cozy couch, a bookshelf weeping under the weight of a small library, and a couple of cluttered tables, sat a worn wheelchair complimented by a small rolling table that held Allison’s computer. This was where she would spend much of her time at home, usually sending emails, on Facebook, or playing a number of games like Solitaire. Vince, on the other hand, spent much of his free time looking up dope new music in his room that was adorned by a broken door that sat directly behind Allison’s battle station.
Vince’s room was a mess, but at least it was brightly decorated by Christmas lights. Heaps and heaps of clothes were everywhere, and a week's worth of old beer cans combined with a few day’s worth of half-eaten meals and several ashtrays worth of cigarette butts were scattered around his ghastly nightstand. He had promised to clean it all out before my arrival, but I said nothing of the state of affairs, knowing how many failed promises I was the owner of. It was all just an aspect of humanity we all shared, to varying extents. We will all say what we want to do for other people, but we often fall flat in reality. At least, that’s my experience. It wasn’t a big deal at all, seriously, but I’m a person who spends much of their days contemplating the abstract and seemingly profound, and that helped lead me to wander in fields of questions like “What does it mean to be a good person?” for the bulk of that evening.
I think I have an answer to that question, but I’m always double-guessing myself. I know what it means to be a bad person; just see the first thirty years of my life as an example. Time and time again I created answers for myself, and every time I was proven to be wrong in some crucially important detail or aspect. I guess I stopped trying to come up with a concrete philosophical answer by this point. I was taking it day by day, like a beaten dog that laid low to avoid the heavy hand of its master once again. All I knew was that I had to be a good friend and house guest: sweep the floors, do the dishes, always offer to help, that sort of thing. I wasn’t worried I would fail, but I was hypervigilant and not ready to make a tragic mistake once again. I had come a long way, and I wasn’t going to let myself stumble any more.
The two of us spent an hour or so clearing out the small foothills of clothes littering his floor that defined the diva’s wardrobe by tossing them in one giant mountain in the corner besides the packed dresser and then we rearranged his bed so I would have a place to rest my head. Both he and his mom offered, practically pleading even, to let me sleep on the couch. I turned them down, both because I was so used to sleeping on hard concrete that a carpeted floor was a well-welcomed upgrade by itself, and because I’ll admit that I had a little crush on Vince. I didn’t know if he felt the same way, but after several weeks of daydreaming about everything up to and beyond our wedding, I wanted to be near him.
I’m a sucker for love. I’ll fall head over heels for someone if they so much as give me the time of day. I had thought Vince to be a close friend before, but I had placed him in his own category like a new species of an associate because of the unusualness of our circumstance. He was always a suspicious character, coming to chat at the perfect time whenever God had given me some lesson to contemplate, but there was an underlying feeling that he would one day play a critical role in my life. So, when he offered me a place to stay after a recent hospitalization in Miami Beach, it made me feel like some prophecy was coming true.
Over the proceeding half a month or so before I was able to make the trek up to Tennessee, my mind had often drifted to a perfect life where every problem could be solved with a kiss. In fact, I was thinking of this after the room-cleaning was done, when both of us plopped ourselves on his bed and he broke out a small baggie of cheap weed. He packed an old chillum, and I puffed. I was quiet on the outside, but inside I was giddy like a schoolgirl at a pep rally. Just what was I doing here? Why was I here now? What was going to happen?
I passed him the glass tube and caught his eye. I thought his little smile, with the tiny dimples under his thick-framed glasses, was charming. It lingered on his face while he asked me when was the last time I had the chance to smoke. I told him that it had not been long at all, only since I went into the hospital. He still seemed happy about being able to smoke me out, but gave no indication of any deeper feelings besides the relief a buddy has after feeding their friend who hadn’t yet eaten today. Still, I was not abated from dreaming. I was running on fanciful thoughts alone like fumes in a five hundred horsepower brain with a desperate heart acting as a HEMI. I knew, but still hoped that I was wrong, that I was cruising to get my feelings hurt again. Below the surface, I bided my time for the potential pain that was virtually promised from reality catching up with my imagination. On my face, though, sat a warm solace with a tender glee glaze baked to perfection.
After our little ritual was done, we continued to talk about the recent months in our respective lives, and he set the bowl down on his freshly cleared nightstand. I admit it was pleasant, the talking I mean, as strange and as daunting as casual conversation is for me, but then he did something that took my mind into a different dimension of wonder. Without much warning, Vince snapped out of our chit-chat and pulled back the heavy black curtains that kept any sunlight out of the room. Uneasy, he shifted to his feet and leaned away from me, now completely silent. A look of concern had washed over his previously content face, and it didn’t take long for me to deduce why.
I got up and gazed over his shoulder. There, some few hundred yards away through the rows of trees that divided us from them, sat a hunter green truck and a large blue tarp that was pulled over what had to be a sizable tent. All of which was forcing Vince to peer towards this sight out the east-facing window of his room like a small, starving mouse peeking around the corner of his hole in the living room baseboard knowing that venturing into the world outside for any amount of time was suicide. This was more than just anxiety that gripped my friend. This was the all-too familiar demon of total paranoia.
“That them?” I asked, already sure of the coming answer.
Vince nodded without peeling his eyes away from the perceived threat. “Yea, just moved in yesterday afternoon.”
I looked for any movement. It was quiet out there; not even the wind was blowing. Next, I looked for any cameras. I saw none, but I knew they were there. They would be capturing any activity from this side of the house that they could. Then I noticed that the fiendish beast of manic panic was taking over my mind, so I stood up before I became its crazed servant once again. Apparently Vince had reached the same will to fight his mind, because he dropped the black sheet over the glass again and turned around to face me. He wasn’t paralyzed in terror, but he was certainly shaken; sweating. He stared into space for a second, then looked at me with an uncharacteristic seriousness to ask:
“So, what exactly happened in Florida?”
I had nothing to hide, so I told him the latest chapter of my life once again. It’s a long story, so I’ll try to keep it concise and relevant here. Basically, the FBI picked me up after a torrential downpour for concerns over me creating a cult. This is not to be confused with the cult I was reduced to a slave in three years prior, and this is also the reason I was in the hospital. Crazy shit, I know, but there’s a very reasonable explanation for it all, I assure you.
In short, I was trying to create an educational project. I had been a near-daily writer wherein I made posts on Reddit about philosophy, spirituality, and mental health using my unique schizo perspective and style that made me an entertaining read. My intention has always been to maximize the number of people who read my articles and gonzo journalism about what it’s like being actually crazy in an even crazier world. I’ve been told on numerous occasions that I inspired people or got them to think about something in a new light or even that they never knew someone as insane as me even existed. I always took the latter of those to be a compliment. But, in hindsight, I must admit that perhaps I went a bit too far with my efforts to get more people to read and understand and, if I could be so bold as to assume that my readers were learning, then we can say I went a bit looney trying to get them to learn as well.
Sigh...I suppose there is more you need to understand as well. I was gunning to find a significant other through what amounts to clever marketing techniques. You can tell, or you’ll eventually see, that I’m the definition of abnormal. This has always made dating difficult. By this point of my gruesome life, I had given up trying to solve this problem by any of the usual means. Instead, I was relentlessly playing the law of large numbers, baby! And statistically, I was bound to find someone to come sweep me off the streets if I kept sending my purest vibrations out into the world. Law of attraction, and all.
Here’s what you need to understand: attention is an entirely mechanical resource. You might think you have free will and can do what you want, but you, and everyone you know, is locked into a symbiotic relationship with screens. Truly, notifications rule our consciousness. We are already cyborgs. And, knowing this, I trolled to the fullest extent a human being can muster in order to harvest eyeballs and place them on my writing. It’s quite a simple science: people like to look at a trainwreck, and golly gee whiz did I give the internet lurkers in the Reddit comment sections a Hindenburg and a half to gawk at.
Here’s the lowdown of what happened as I understood it as things went down: the FBI had grown concerned that a deranged cult leader was recruiting followers while homeless in a popular tourist area in order to take over a local government and replace it with a big party. Sounds nuts, yea? Well, that’s because it is. I definitely put a lot of effort into making myself out to be my character. It was a trip being so consistently a crackhead, let me tell you. Actually, if you want to know my whole spiel in a nutshell, I have a joke I told frequently to help illustrate the general frequency I was putting out:
“Join our cult! All of our members are spiritually enlightened because we know that Buddhism is actually spelled BDSM!”
Ba-dum tsk! Yea, I know there are crickets chirping in the audience now, but in the moment, the FBI was seriously concerned about what I was saying. I wasn’t doing anything bad, although, if I were to be truthful with you, I think my methamphetamine use might have influenced their opinion of me.
I’ll hold fast to the hilt on that one and claim that I have something undiagnosed that is ADHD-related in addition to my schizoaffectiveness. Amphetamines make me “normal.” Like, there’s no euphoria at all. I can sit still and write and write and write for hours on this kind of medicine: an impossible task for me to even think about attempting most of the time. I’m even writing this piecewise. It’s such a relief to get so much work done when I am normally choking to spit out a few paragraphs in a row. Not only that, but when I take small doses of these stimulants, I can actually do things I want to do in life when ordinarily it can take everything including a last-minute panic to motivate myself to do it. And to top it all off, nothing sexual is even remotely possible. Everything’s off; hardware and software. That alone should be proof that I can responsibly use amphetamines, because you know that my damned ham candle would be getting an Olympian-level workout on them if I was neurotypical.
But, I’m poor and eccentric and totally delusional at times, so I can’t ever get a script for legal amphetamines. And I can at least partially understand why, as I’ll admit they may have some downsides for me. For instance, there are times, with or without any amphetamines or other psychiatric medicine, when it feels like the NSA is modifying my social media feeds or the CIA is talking to me through the radio, or what-have-you. Vince and I call this an aspect of the Synchronicity Slip Stream. That’s an understudied cognitive phenomena that might be exclusive to schizo-types, but it may actually be the result of alien interference here on Terra Firma. At least that’s what I tend to think of the experience the majority of the time.
So, there are these frequent periods when it feels like I’m on a cosmic mission and a divine hand is parting the Red Sea for me to travel forward in that direction. I’ve been learning when following this is good and when it is bad. Which is where the problem in question emerges, as I get much more impulsive on amphetamines. That’s why I spent days at a time posting madness to as many comment sections as possible while spending the daylight sprawled out in the park on Ocean Drive and the nights sleeplessly typing away in an abandoned storefront on Lincoln Road. Definitely said a few things I regret. Certainly wouldn’t have taunted the FBI by pretending to be a serial killer, for one. Probably wouldn’t have posted about my cult in the Minecraft subreddit either. I lost sight of what I was doing and only cared about the attention I was receiving en masse. Hey, at least I can say that I got tens of thousands of people to read about philosophy, spirituality, and mental health!
Nothing of consequence came. This wasn’t actually a miracle. See, I had previously spent a week in the same inpatient ward after an explosive outburst regarding God’s ceaseless demands wherein I slit my wrist to the tendon outside a Denny’s in North Beach. The doctors there gave me supposedly five-dollar scripts for my normally prescribed psychiatric medications of risperdal and depakote, but I was eventually posting frequently about how I couldn’t fill these as they actually cost over four hundred smackeroos at local pharmacies without insurance. So, being a mentally ill person in an apparent crisis, I was taken directly to Mount Sinai hospital without questioning. Even got to stay on the female side of the ward that time.
Well, actually let’s back up a second. I said I wasn’t questioned, and I wasn’t, not really. No interrogation room hotseat for me! But, the two officers who picked me up, a latino guy and a white guy who looked like my dad, asked me which of them I would kill, if I were to choose. I gave no answer, being flabbergasted that they would pose such a question. They let me linger on the choice for a few minutes, to watch what I’d do no doubt. I think it must have had something to do with the genocide comments I made during a bout of performance arts the night prior. I assure you, I’m not racist; all those jokes were about how we as a collective species deserve the ax. But, I realize now that others listening to me would not understand that and thus must have been why doctors tried to start a conversation with me about Israel, like I have any opinion of the other side of the world.
This brings us back to our corner of the planet located in Vince’s bedroom. After I was done retelling this whole shebang, Vince rolled his eyes and disarmed me with a question about everything you have just read:
“Do you realize how big of a risk I’m taking having you stay here?”
I nodded sheepishly, as it was obvious that I made a few errors of judgement, but then, having the mirror of another to reflect off of and witness myself in a more pure light, I was able to see that my situation was not so simple as to be reduced to merely be a case of trolling gone bad. I had set off alarm bells, and I was left with a disappointed friend as a result.
Disappointing others is an experience I know well. I’ve been a major disappointment to both my parents on numerous occasions. There are countless memories that come to mind when I think about remorse. It sincerely blows my mind how stupid I can be at times. My life is a regular practice of fucking up something fierce. And I keep making mistakes, even to today. But up until this point I had only my own ass to roast over any fires that were lit underneath me by my own hand. Now I had a friend, who was looking worriedly at my presence, and I knew I had to be a good friend to him and for him.
I looked back to the window, timid and afraid, hoping that I had finally learned how to be a good person.
submitted by Afoolfortheeons to WritersGroup [link] [comments]
2021.10.18 00:09 Altruistic-Ground441 Glitch
|submitted by Altruistic-Ground441 to TimeworksSubmissions [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 00:09 derkimster Here’s what La Niña’s arrival could mean for Northern California’s drought
|submitted by derkimster to CaliforniaDisasters [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 00:09 Hot_Paramedic6825 Ocean Token Is BULLISH 🔥 Hold And Earn 7% BTC Rewards! TechRate Audit Soon! - Just Launched, Join Now! ✅
The Ocean Token is here to help save the environment, while making its holders money!
🌊 CHARITY DONATIONS- Each day after launching, we will be donating to Ocean related charities that our community will pick out for us. All of our donations will be completely public, transparent and open to verify.
🎁 BTCB REWARDS EVERY 10 MINUTESNot only will there be daily donations, there will also be automatic 7% $BTCB rewards every 10 minutes to our holders. These rewards will create passive income for $OCEAN holders, that can be used to either cash out or buy more of the $OCEAN token. This process will be completely automatic and wont require you to connect your wallet to any site.
✅ FAIR LAUNCH
✅ NO PRE-LAUNCH AIRDROP / PRESALE
✅ 7% REDISTRIBUTION IN BTCB
✅ ANTI-BOT SNIPING AND HIDDEN CONTRACT
✅ ANTI-DUMP FEATURES
✅ DIVIDEND TOKEN
✅ AUTO PAID EVERY 10 MINUTES
7% $BTC Reflections
1% Into Liquidity Pool
2% Into Marketing.
Buy Here: https://pancakeswap.finance/swap?outputCurrency=0x73078fb65946cc11fa34a774be94f2e4b7be88df
LP Locked: https://deeplock.io/lock/0xa0b422a36c3ae0d59ac7a3784abcac89f830351e
Renounced Ownership: https://bscscan.com/token/0x73078fb65946cc11fa34a774be94f2e4b7be88df#readContract
submitted by Hot_Paramedic6825 to CryptoMoon [link] [comments]
2021.10.18 00:09 MrTambarineMan Archive.org have a legal exemption to host and serve hundreds of 80s and 90s retro video games. I found a website which allows you to play them in your web browser with no downloads. Mario, Sonic, Zelda, Bomberman, Tetris, Metroid, Mega Man, Duck Hunt, Aladdin, Earthworm Jim & LOADS More!
|submitted by MrTambarineMan to OldSchoolCool [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 00:09 ourcreed 21 [M4F] Middle Eastern. Looking for something meaningful
We all have enough negativity in our lives I guess. I'm looking for someone who we can spread positivity together! Looks don't matter much to me and I really would love if we could push each other to be better people:)
I play video games if I have the time, read novels and most of the time I'm busy making video games cause that's my passion:)
I'm not religious, in fact I am atheiat but I really don't mind if you are religious.
Also I live with a buncha my friends (actually colleagues but we are too close lol)
Let's talk to see how it goes:)
submitted by ourcreed to ForeverAloneDating [link] [comments]
2021.10.18 00:09 basaratali Deploy your React application with Cloudflare Pages
|submitted by basaratali to reactjs [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 00:09 Coach_Eli GOING LIVE ON YOUTUBE @ 7:15 PM EASTERN / 4:15 PM PACIFIC (10/17/21) (REPLAY WILL BE AVAILABLE) Topic: "It Is What It Is! Learn To Accept Reality In Any Situation & Feel Better!"
2021.10.18 00:09 midnight_prophet_ goofball
|submitted by midnight_prophet_ to AnimalsBeingDerps [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 00:09 CommisionerGordon79 The Kneecap Recap: Lions-Bengals Review
|submitted by CommisionerGordon79 to detroitlions [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 00:09 Slimey_Uchiha Fatals broken
|submitted by Slimey_Uchiha to MADFUT [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 00:09 rmac10010 What are some of your favorite NAS whiskies?
|submitted by rmac10010 to WhiskeyTribe [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 00:09 Kawaiizilla 2 “late” pills?
I’ve had a rough week lately and took 2 pills in a row about 4.5 hours late. I’m not sure if this is an issue honestly, do you think I should use backup for a week?
I’m on lo loestrin fe and I’m 7 days into the pack right now.
submitted by Kawaiizilla to birthcontrol [link] [comments]
2021.10.18 00:09 asking4advice989 Should I reach out to old roommates to apologize?
Back in 2013, I (28M) lived with three girls at college (they were friends before they met me and they needed a roommate after one left so I came in). Anyway, we got along great the first month or so, but after a while, they started to dislike me - and for good reason. I was a slob, I rarely did the chores around the apartment, I left my clothes on the floor in the bathroom once or twice, etc. I was a bad roommate whose only good quality was paying the rent and utilities on time. I found out about halfway through the year that they were talking trash about me, but I never let them know that I knew. After the year ended and we all graduated, they unfriended me on FB.
It's been 8 years, but I STILL think about it because I feel so guilty (it's very difficult for me to get over my past mistakes). I've wanted to reach out to them for years to apologize. I don't expect them to accept my apology or anything - I just want to let them know I'm sorry for being a bad roommate even if it was so long ago, but I'm afraid it's been too long and the only respond I'd get is they might just tell me to F off.
I've recently started going to therapy for my depression. My therapist recommended I try to forgive myself for past mistakes and that seeking closure may help.
What do you think? Should I go ahead and message them?
submitted by asking4advice989 to Advice [link] [comments]
2021.10.18 00:09 Sleepylunov Su maldito just chatting? - eeeeh nunca se que poner aqui xD, un fanart que le hice al Kitian, espero le guste Okayge <3
|submitted by Sleepylunov to aweonasogang [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 00:09 teahouse5 Have you tried using field notes for a minimalistic bullet journal? If you have resources you have seen online, please share.
|submitted by teahouse5 to bulletjournal [link] [comments]|