University of houston part time mba

University of Houston

2010.04.24 00:59 eCDKEY University of Houston

A subreddit for students, alumni or fans of the University of Houston. GO COOGS!

2011.01.31 02:21 CarlinT /r/Houston Socials!

Houston (/ˈhjuːstən/) is the fourth-largest city in the United States of America, and the largest city in the state of Texas. According to the 2010 U.S. Census, the city had a population of 2.1 million people within an area of 656.3 square miles (1,700 km2). Houston is the seat of Harris County and the economic center of Houston–Sugar Land–Baytown, which is the fifth-largest metropolitan area in the United States, with 6.08 million people as of July 1st, 2011.

2013.03.21 16:25 ryushe Pictures of Houston

A place to post pictures of Houston and surroundings.

2023.06.05 05:56 OkCulture3929 Am I the asshole for taking my best friend’s advice?

I (25F), has a best friend from 23 years. She was in a relationship for 3 years and I met her boyfriend, Sam (25M) occasionally. We were good friends and had a lot of things in common. But never really thought about anything else other than being friends. Last year, both of them parted ways amicably because they thought they were better off as friends than partners. 5 months back, I, my best friend, Sam, and couple of other friends went on a trip. Sam and I hit it off instantly but we’ve decided not to act upon it because of his history with my best friend. My best friend thought Sam and I would be a great pair and she pushed us to pursue our relationship. Initially, both of us were reluctant to pursue but our common interests and attraction towards each other pushed us close. We decided to see each other and my best couldn’t be happier. I asked her a million times before saying yes to Sam when he asked me out because I didn’t want to lose my friendship. A week after we started seeing each other, it was Sam’s birthday and we all threw a party for him. During the party, Sam and I were sitting next to each other. I was drunk and he was taking care of me. I don’t recollect much from the party but later on I found out that my best friend is upset because Sam was with me the entire time and he did not give her any attention. From that day onwards, she is being distant. I tried to sort this out many times but she is not ready to listen. I’m in a state with Sam where for the first time I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not and he encouraged me to love myself before I love others. He understands my mental health and supports me. I don’t want to give up on him. Am I the asshole for pursuing my relationship with Sam?
submitted by OkCulture3929 to AITAH [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 05:56 nicenurse13 What do you think?

This guy, we dated on and off a few months He showed toxic behaviour It ended. 3 months later I got an apology text and he wanted to meet up for‘friendship’ I was hesitant but met for coffee and a walk 2 months of ‘friendship’ and no physical contact except for parting hug on occasion. Wanted to meet up again as he was moving to another country (NZ to Australia) Ok so I met him. Usual long walk and coffee. He is funny and intelligent and good banter but has issues which I won’t elaborate on but related to childhood trauma Anyway he asked me to go to his place. It was raining so ok We hugged on the bed fully clothed and he said he wanted more than friends. I got off the bed. I had an honest discussion about my reservations I said I had felt a lack of empathy from him in the past etc, he agreed Quite an in depth discussion and I was being honest but still polite. Then he says he wants commitment and I must decide right NOW and he says he was faithful in a long distance relationship for a year I feel blindsided and put my head in my hands, thinking. I say no. But then I said I understand dating. I said you go on a date and if it goes well then another etc So then I said ok I’ll date only you. I’m busy as a nurse anyway and no time for dating and he was leaving in 2 weeks, so ok I’ll give it ANOTHER go. Then we cuddle on the bed and of course sex First time in 4 plus months. Mid way he says “ is this a yes” well we had already agreed Then I’m going to be on night shifts a couple of nights We agree I will text him when I wake up from my shifts and we agree to go out of town together for a couple of nights and he also wants me to get leave for a couple of days to fly to another town for another couple of nights before he leaves the country. So ok we say bye with this plan I texted him at work saying good night the next night and he replied But then I texted him the next day and no reply and he’s blocked me. He will now be in another country in his new job and life. This was 2 weeks ago now and I’m over him except I just don’t understand his behaviour I know him and I know he will unblock and message me eventually as this happened several times in the initial dating time September to January More fool me. I’m an idiotic fool that I trusted him but he was convincing and said he’d thought about it a lot for 4 months of no contact and 2 months of friendship I think I wanted to trust him cos of good banter and intelligent conversation But that is clearly not enough if he lacks empathy and respect Also after sex he decided to tell me he is 5 years younger than I had believed for over 7 months So a liar also. A week ago a good friend died and it gave me perspective My (male) friend was kind honest and compassionate but had health problems. Sick but sudden unexpected death and I cried the entire funeral of course. So just tell me your opinion, is this person who said he liked everything about me etc it seems just to have sex one last time, just completely f Ed up? And manipulative? I think he is and I’m glad he’s gone. But I’m an analytical person and I like to have some input on this person from the outside Thank you.
submitted by nicenurse13 to dating [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 05:55 AutoModerator [Download Course] Vinh Giang – Stage Academy (

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submitted by AutoModerator to GetNewestCourses [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 05:55 nu97 I created my first SPA, an online tool to help select your tax regime for your ITR filing

Hi all, I am MBA finance and business analytics grad, and I have been working in product management since some time. I love working on side projects and tinkering in tech has been a hobby for me. I made a free online tool which helps people select their Tax Regime (Old or New (FY-22-23 or FY 23-24))
Tax Regime Selector (
What does this do? Simple, it's a form which take in the parameters, calculates the tax outgo in old tax regime and new tax regimes and gives the individual an estimate of how much tax will they be paying monthly and yearly. It takes into considerations all the common tax provisions and deductions which might be pertinent to a salaried person and gives an estimate of the post tax income under both the regimes.
Some Caveats :

Why have I made this?
I saw a lot of folks get confused while selecting their tax regime for their ITR filing, so I made a very simple regime selector online tools which primarily targets salaried individuals, simplifying the process which is insanely complicated in the GOI website.
Also a product manager I also wanted to understand the developer's perspective at things and how I can make the entire implementation process efficient and learn a few things in the process. Non-tech folks get a lot of flak for not understanding the other side of things and I wanted to see how the translation between what the requirement is and how much effort goes into the actual implementation. It's simple(r) for me to put the requirements on a paper but to actually make it work is an entirely different thing. One of developer friends put me up to the task and she encouraged me to see if I can train myself and make something workable.
What have I used ? This is a simple application which I have made using React and Material UI library. There is no user data collected so I never imagined it to need a back end for CRUD applications. It took me almost a year to re-learn programming. I learnt JS, then React and the entire MERN stack and this entire project took me about 2-3 months with work. Understanding various acts of the IT act and simplifying it took me about a month or so.
I have been working with CAs and accountants who are willing to help people if they feel there is a provision which is not included as mentioned above. Feel free to email the Id given below for help.
submitted by nu97 to developersIndia [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 05:55 feshybananas 29 [M4F] Vancouver Canada - Doomed or blessed to be single forever?

I find it both sad and funny how different personalities get a completely different treatment in life. It's not that I explicitly dislike people, I just don't like people in general. But yea for reals I'm not blaming anyone or myself for this, it's just how the world works sometimes and I guess this is a last ditch attempt at trying to stay relevant and tryna see if others may be in the same boat because I think we might understand each other best.
On paper I have it pretty good I'd say, fortunate to have found a career that I seem to enjoy and allows me to operate independently, no debt, healthy, and am a master at entertaining myself. However while I don't enjoy normal folk interactions as much, I still wonder about finding a genuine connection, after all I'm still a healthy person with hormones pumping through. The only "problem" that I've had is I was just so uninterested in dating and never really looked into the right crowds Also I never felt like I was myself so the interest died off quick.
I realized I am not entirely comfortable when it comes to differences. I'm open minded and quite libertarian when it comes to a lot of things but at the same time I have pretty strong lines drawn on what's okay and what's not. I am constantly astounded by the divide in opinions and politics in both here and the US, the way I see it both sides get things wrong and that's okay, throw out the bads and retain the good and what you should end up with is a healthier society...which is never the case because we can't even make coherent sentences to one another to even get there in the first place. So yeah, I'm sorta done with trying to rationalize what the f is going on in the world cuz it's all BS. No longer are we living in a society that rewards hard work and honesty, instead everyone is trying to one up each other no matter the reason.
I'm best described as a person that always seems to have something to say about anything and everything, almost like a boomer uncle always saying BACK IN MY DAY X AND Y WERE BETTER, and I'd argue it's true, for the most part. I believe in staying authentic and true to yourself, even if others may not agree with you, but open minded enough to really listen to the people that I trust and care for. I'm definitely not the most reliable person in the world, but I'm someone that will always try to accept personal responsibility and try to improve myself. I believe failure is the greatest teacher and if you're able to utilize that in controlled settings then you have infinite possibilities of learning.
Well if you made it this far you might be interested in what kind of person I am by what I like to do and value. Introvert is probably the most accurate term I'd go by, I would use other more offensive terms but this site is a bit too PC for that, even if I'm joking somewhat. I'm a sucker for detail and quality, I absolutely love precision manufacturing and engineering. Lately been getting into watches and a complete car nut, I live and breathe cars. I'm a mild anime snob and have no qualms about absolutely dumpstering on your favorite show since I'll always have an argument to back up my opinions, but only because I open myself up to criticism over my own tastes too. I just genuinely enjoy things with a great story and even better characters. Pretty big gamer as well but more of a boomer in this regard, not really into any of the modern stuff anymore but been having a blast with Zelda and I have a few regular games I play on the PC. My music range is anywhere from jazz to anime op/ed, basically I can listen to them all but being the hipster I am I tend to avoid anything pop or normie stuff. Have a bunch more things that interest me but I'll spare you the deetz.
Online is totally okay but I do wish to have some sort of physical established at some point so I'd like to limit the range to locals/semi-locals. I'm not in a position to move to another place given it's not my province nor do I wish to force this on someone else.
submitted by feshybananas to ForeverAloneDating [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 05:54 Dragonbarry22 I need help with something I think im over thinking about my worldbuilding

so i wanted to make a multiverse project using an older project I made but sometimes when i dont work on something for awhile my brain gets fuzzy.
basically i keep thinking it might be difficult to reset the entire thing and scrap the old worldbuilding cause the old story might contradict stuff - but that could also be a contained story on its own.
Basically one universe the void force and scp foundation kinda re writes there leadership after a great detective goes rogue because of his missing daughter and pretty much befriends and anomolly to help in his search was thinking that anomolly makes a peaceful pact with parts of her kind in the story when they find the great detective daugther and end a certian group thats been causing chaos. I guess im more over thinking about how the group would treat anomolies in the future.
unless it would be like a tokyo ghoul thing where youd have the og void force that really want to rid all anomolies and a faction that follows that peace pact?
submitted by Dragonbarry22 to OriginalCharacter [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 05:54 looking4participant Looking for participants for dissertation study on cognitive and psychiatric outcomes following COVID-19 (some basics: participants must reside in US, age 18-65, primarily speak English, history of COVID in past 8 months; link in comment)

Have you tested positive for COVID-19 within the last eight months? Do you live in the US and predominantly speak English? Are you between the ages of 18-65? If so, you may be eligible to earn an Amazon gift card for your participation and time in a research study at Alliant International University. Participation will be twofold. First, you will complete a screener to determine eligibility. The principal investigatodissertation student will contact those selected for phase two to set up a time and date to complete additional questionnaires and tasks. Participation is entirely remote and will take place via Qualtrics and Zoom.
If you are interested, please complete the screener available here:
Thank you for your time and for considering participation in my dissertation! Please don't hesitate to reach out if I can answer any questions.
submitted by looking4participant to PaidStudies [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 05:53 Brownevelyn Sell Your Property With Our Edinburgh Estate Agents

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At Umega, we pride ourselves on our commitment to providing exceptional customer service. Our team of Edinburgh estate agents is passionate about the work we do, and we go above and beyond to ensure that our clients are happy with the service we provide. Whether you’re a first-time seller or an experienced property investor, we’re here to help you achieve your goals.
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submitted by Brownevelyn to u/Brownevelyn [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 05:52 shelovesterpenes near hit and run on Columbia St

near hit and run on Columbia St
jk.. watching the movie ‘Shooter’ for the first time and I love when parts of the lower mainland is shown, especially NW!
submitted by shelovesterpenes to NewWest [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 05:51 ChaTae95 Why I think season 1-4 works

I was thinking to myself as to why i found season 1-4 so much better than the recent seasons (especially 5)
I think i realize that in season 1-4 there are so many more filler scenes between conversations with your partner, or islanders asking you on your thoughts (checking in on you), or scenes with Li other than partner with the option to flirt. You actually get to see some personality in the islanders by watching them interact and have proper meaningful conversations or banter with each other.
season 5 was notorious for each scene after the other being the same copy paste format, and then getting interrupted at the end before we could reach a conclusion. at least in season 6, it seems we are for the most part able to reach conclusions in our conversations other than when a cliff hanger is needed.
maybe my memory isn’t serving me well, but i’m so very sick of the chat up lines and the writing in season 5&6. season 5 was worse with the “she’s so flames” and all the cringe dialogue. but i’m finding that the MC just has horrible responses half the time to people flirting. so sick of her smirking and saying “thanks (name) 😏” yuck! and i’m seeing this in season 6 too. I’m currently with Ryan (though I know all 3 OG boys are very similar) but i’m not the biggest fan of this 100% i’m into you on day 1. i don’t mind them saying “i feel like this can go somewhere” but half of the other dialogue that they say to MC is just going on and on about how beautiful MC is and how she’s practically our soulmate. look, it’s sweet, and i’ll accept it over cheating backstabbers because ofc the attention to our MC is nice, but it’s super cringey and you can’t tell me otherwise. the writing sucks! i wouldn’t complain this much if the writing was bad and they were fawning over MC with actual good dialogue, but every time all the boys open their mouths i’m like yuck,, how do you get girls? bella so far is alright, but it’s just all of the dialogue in general doesn’t have the same vibes from season 1-2. season 3 and 4 aren’t super cringe to me, i’m able to put up with it for the most part other than some really bad scenes (that singing scene in season 4 sheesh)
despite my complaining and whining, season 6 seems to be taking a step in a better direction than season 5 did. season 5’s writing was bad, not just the storyline and lack of options, but how the islanders talked made me want to throw up. y’all are 20+ years old, who talks like this. the writers are not doing their best work :,( cmon
submitted by ChaTae95 to fuseboxgames [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 05:51 miceofvenus Are these compulsions? Also, is paranoia a part of OCD?

For the last 2-3 years ive been getting intrusive thoughts with sexual and harm themes for the most part. So me having OCD is very plausible. What has me second guessing is that I dont think I have compulsions along with the thoughts. Usually I let my mind blank out which im pretty sure is dissociation but thats a whole other issue. Unless the dissociation is a compulsion in this case? I also distract myself by scrolling through tiktok, watching youtube, or reading. Ive recently been tapping my leg to different rhythms and shit that ive been learning on guitar to distract myself or just counting the beats in my head which is always in groups of 4. So that might be a new compulsion or its just me distracting myself.
I do compulsivly squeeze bumps on my arms, legs, chest/back, and face which ive done since I was 10. This also extends to plucking ingrown hairs (or any hair on my legs and face) and picking my nails. I usually cant pull myself away from picking despite telling myself "hey‼️ Stop‼️Youre gonna regret this after‼️" and then negotiating with myself "just one more" but of course that turns into a bunch more. But my intrusive thoughts dont trigger this tho. I may sometimes do it after im unsure.
Here is where the paranoia comes in. I have a fear that I have repressed memories of me being sexually assaulted. My brain has latched on to my dad being the culprit which logically i know is so out of character and not something he would do. I truly dont think ive actually been assaulted but the fear still stays.This definitely makes the sexual intrusive thoughts about my dad worse. I also have a a paranoia of hidden camreas.
What will happen is my intrusive thoughts will trigger these paranoias.For example: I was in the bathroom and noticed the heat lamp light bulb was black and shapped different. My brain was like "oop, hidden camrea? Nahhh not logical. But it could be. Why would it be? What if dad installed it to spy on me in the bathroom? Nope. That is not what this is. Could be but NOPE. but what if. No."
Another example is I grabbed the peanut butter and it looked like someone took a spoon and made a hole in the middle but my brain goes "what if dad stuck his dick in it." And he was in the kitchen with me so i also got the thought "what if hes waiting to watch me eat it not thinking i know." I ignored these thoughts and ate the peanut butter anyway but was so uncomfortable the whole time and had to jeep reassuring myself that these thoughts arent rational.
I can usually settle on my thoughts being irrational, but theres this whole other seprate reality in my head full of all the what ifs and past paranoias and why they all add up and how this all supports my dad sexualizing me and possibly assaulting me. Basically a whole other reality where ive rationalized all these paranoid thoughts to be true. But i dont enter that reality fully bc im very aware how irrational and unlikely it is. But whenever a new paranoid thought occurs it strengths that second reality.
Please ask any questions bc i feel like i butchered explaining all this😭
submitted by miceofvenus to OCD [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 05:50 vaishnavi_0 I [19 F] don't know how to feel about the guy [25M] I like.

So , I am a university student , I recently got my summer break , and I'm doing psychology course and i during this summer break i joined an internship at a very popular mental health hospital in my city , I joined this internship for a month because my uni starts right after that, so i joined this to gain more practical based knowledge and also that it adds up to my resume, but the place where I interned also had a collegish type where students can only pursue a master's degree in psychiatry after doing their under graduation in medicine. So , these students are always on the campus and also in the hospital , so I came across this guy (during the initial days of the internship) who is doing his master's degree, the guy was attractive, tall and very handsome, and I knew I had a thing for him but didn't pay so much attention to it as I was getting very busy at the place . After few days I started seeing him very often and i instantly found that guy very cute and all and the problem was i never really spoke to him or atleast had a direct contact with him as we both were separate departments , but by the days of end of the internship these "feelings" or whatever you wanna call them has increased , i mean i don't even know him and i got so excited to see him in the hospital, like i didn't even wanna talk to him or something, i just wanted to see him, i didn't even really try to find out his name or his details or something but on the last day of my internship i asked my friend (who is a student there and is one year senior than him ) about his name , and they just said their first name as they could not recollect their last name . But as I was done I was going through my friends instagram and their followers and somehow managed to find out his ID, but since then I could not stop thinking about him even now , I feel like I'm just in a place where nobody can even understand what this all really is I mean im Askin myself that is it even possible to like somebody without having any interaction with them. Also i just guessed their approximate age as I don't really know their real age.
I don't really know what to do , all of these liking towards him , is just increasing and at the same time I also feel extremely demotivated to do anything or I'm in this shop that is filled with uneasyness or uncomfortableness like I mean i don't know why maybe it's because i don't see him ever again or idk I just feel very bad at the same time I just wanna talk to him and tell him that I find him very attractive and I might have a Lil crush on him but also I feel like I'm Joe Goldberg from "YOU" . So what do I do? Do I tell him and just get it over with or should I like try to ignore and move on?
Tl;dr : developed crush on a guy, and I feel stuck in between those feelings and don't know what to do .
submitted by vaishnavi_0 to Advice [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 05:50 NobleDragon777 After years of depression, pessimism, and anger, I have finally come to peace. Here is my story.

Some background about me is needed. I am an Indian male that was born in America in 2004 to 2 first generation immigrants. My early childhood was completely normal and definitely above average. My family has a high income and to be completely honest, I have been extremely spoiled my whole life.
My mother sometimes tells me I was a very happy kid. Hearing this now brings a smile to my face, but between 10th to 12th grade hearing that statement only brought sadness to me. Starting 9th I became very existential, and I would ponder day in and out about the purpose of life and the reason for everything.
Unsurprisingly, these thoughts over time changed my mindset and made me become very depressed. I felt hopeless and thought that everything was for nothing. I was too consumed by my thoughts to appreciate the value in everything. COVID amplified this by limiting my distractions and giving me more time to overthink in my own head alone. By 11th grade I was deep into these thoughts, and hearing my mother tell me I used to be a happy kid would upset me. I thought as though I failed as a person.
I truly believed that ignorance was bliss. I admired children for innocence and how they were not cynical due to exposure to this cruel world. Being reminded that I used to be one of those kids would make me bitter to the core. I was full of resentment towards everyone and everything that didn’t share my way of thinking.
This eventually led to self guilt. I felt as though that I shouldn’t be having these thoughts because I have an extremely blessed life. I was aware of the fact that I was taking my life for granted but I didn’t want to care about it because it would be contradictory and not embrace the “nothing matters” mindset. In the back of my mind this was slowly ruining me mentally and emotionally.
This led me to believe that I was a terrible person and that I did not deserve the life I had. This amplified a lot of my self esteem issues that I had in my life before the depression started and increased the downward spiral. These issues also manifested in anger, and I would have a lot of violent thoughts (don’t worry I wasn’t psycho). I had a lot of suicidal thoughts and used to cry myself to sleep every night praying to whatever forces were responsible for the universe that I would not wake up the next morning. Despite all my prayers, I always woke up the next day.
I kept waking up. The feeling felt worse and worse. The little bit of human emotion I had left in me didn't want to take my life. This was due to the damage I could cause to my loved ones. I didn’t care about myself at all, and honestly I didn’t care about how they felt that much either. I just felt that I owed them due to how much time and effort they put into me.
Over time, I got sick of feeling bad. It was not like a switch flipped into me, but I slowly realized I had to do something. I didn’t care about myself, but we all see the world through our eyes, and I realized that even if I feel like what I’m doing is useless, it’s all I have. There isn’t anything else you can do, so you might as well do it.
I slowly started taking care of myself. Skincare, losing weight, dressing better. Working on my confidence. At first I didn’t really understand why I was doing this. I know I looked better and was presented in a much better fashion than before, but I still felt as though it was pointless. I was simply doing it out of boredom.
It wasn’t a constant upward slope from that point. I would have my moments of plummet and would sometimes be extremely depressed. All my friends and family knew this but didn’t really talk to me about it too much. I was still much better than before though.
Entering college I was a brand new person, but I still had my baggage and people could tell. It wasn’t until I watched season 2 of Alice in Borderland that it clicked for me. It was never about how I felt, it was always about what I wanted. Despite being extremely depressed I did want to be happy, I just didn’t know how. In that show I constantly saw people beg for their lives, and all I could think to myself was how grateful they must be for their lives. Some characters didn’t always have great lives to go back to, and they have suffered a lot of loss. Despite that they still wanted to live. It amazed me how much they wanted to live and the lengths they were willing to go to survive.
It hit me. They didn’t want to live so they could be happy. They wanted to live so they could keep living. I realized that in order to appreciate life, you have to accept every single aspect of it.
I’m not talking about simple things, I’m talking about EVERYTHING. Unexpected events, growing as a person, pain/loss, the laws of physics, the ability to dwell on the past or have a hopeful future, the way the society is structured, the fact that you have to flip your pillow if it gets too hot. Every single little thing. I always viewed it all as a drag and that’s why I couldn’t see what was right in front me. It suddenly felt so clear.
Remove a single aspect from that and life as a whole is completely different. There isn’t anything specific needed to be done in life. Everyone's beginning and final destination is different, morals are subjective in nature, and no one truly knows why we actually exist. All we have is our life and nothing else. All you have to do is live it through. Our circumstances and past experiences shape who we are today. Life is nothing more than a process and you shouldn’t view it as anything else.
After watching Alice in Borderland, I started going to the gym, taking therapy, and working even harder on myself. The way I’m treated and how I treat other people is significantly different compared to before. I learned how to embrace every single aspect of life. No complaints. No if, ands, or buts. That’s it. Life is life. I truly believe that by coming to terms with every single thing, and understanding that it doesn’t have to go my way, it just has to go, that I was able to change my soul. I’m full of so much emotion now and I choose to be nice even if there is absolutely no reason to. If nothing matters and I just have to be, I might as well be feeling good about myself and make others feel good rather than doing the opposite. I realized I didn’t need to seek happiness, I just had to come to terms with everything so I wouldn’t be sad about it.
Life is a process. We grow and we change and our ability to do that is our greatest gift. We can choose to grow or dwell on the past. We can choose to be scared or look forward to the future. I made a full 180 degree turn in my life and I truly believe that if I could change, anybody could. Maybe this was a useless story and I’ll get criticism, even so, I chose to write it and whatever response I get from this is just part of the process. Human desire is the strongest emotion of all. As long as you want good for you and don’t let it fade away, nature will take its course and you will get better eventually. Every single one of you is just as important as each other, nobody is more and nobody is less. We all take up the same space in the universe and we’re all going through the process, whether it’s shorter or longer, happier or sadder, worse to bettebetter to worse, or any other discrepancy. The idea of someone being more valuable is created by society. I truly hope this reaches out to someone who is able to utilize it to help themselves. If you made it to the end I appreciate you taking time out of your progression to read this. Thank you all. <3
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2023.06.05 05:49 JLGoodwin1990 We broke into the Egyptian Theatre in Coos Bay to go ghost hunting. I wish we never had.

“I just had an idea pop into my head about something to do this coming weekend, and I wanted to bounce it off you two before it slips my mind” My friend Natasha said those words as the three of us sat on my couch one afternoon. I found myself sitting up slightly. Normally, Natasha was the last of our group to suggest things to do, letting Vinny, the third member of our group, or I come up with the plans to keep our free time occupied. The fact she was about to suggest something intrigued me. “What have you got in mind?” I asked her. A smile played over her face as her brown eyes seemed to flash. “How about a little ghost hunting?”
I felt Vinny sit straight up beside me. She had clearly grabbed both our attention now. The three of us were what you might call amateur ghost hunters, using very basic items we bought offline to visit some of the spookier places in the area and posting our adventures on YouTube, sort of like a crappier version of Ghost Adventures. “Now that’s one hell of a good idea” Vinny said, before a puzzled expression spread over his face. “But, I mean, where? We’ve already done most of the places around town. The Tioga building won’t let us in after that…well, what that one resident claims we stirred up in the old ballroom, and I’m not about to make the hours long drive to the Wolf Creek Inn” Natasha’s smile grew wider. “No, we don’t have to even go out of town for this one” she said, her voice dropping low, “What I’m suggesting, is we check out…” her voice trailed off, letting the suspense grow for a few seconds before finishing, “The Egyptian Theatre”
Instantly, Vinny let out a harsh bark of laughter. “HA! Now that’s a good one. You know damn good and well that the society that runs the theater won’t allow us in after hours to ghost hunt. As far as I know, they’ve never allowed any paranormal teams into the place” He pulled a face. “So, how exactly do you propose we get in there? You flutter your eyelashes for the night janitor and use your feminine charms to get us in?” Natasha still grinned, but rolled her eyes at our friend’s quip. “No, actually, I was thinking about using my lock picking skills to get us in” she declared. It was my turn to give her an incredulous look. “You’re joking, right?” I asked. She shook her head. “Nope, I’m dead serious” I let out an incredulous, almost baffled snort of laughter and pulled my glasses off my face, rubbing my eyes.
The country, and, to a large extent, the entire world, became gripped in an interest, sometimes bordering on obsession with all things Egyptian when King Tut’s tomb was discovered over a century ago. Many things came out of this, including the classic 1932 monster movie The Mummy. But, one thing that also came of this fever gripping the country was a desire to build many Egyptian style buildings. And one of the buildings which took this design and ran with it, were the movie theatres. A decade after the legendary discovery, over a hundred theatres had gone up all around the country, their interiors clad with fake temple columns, paintings of sphinxes and Egyptian gods such as Anubis decorating the walls, and hieroglyphs adorning the archways. People flocked in droves to them, both to watch movies, and live performances. But, like all trends, eventually, the interest began to wane, and as the late 20th Century approached, many began to shut down and be either remodeled, or straight up demolished. Today, there’s only between five and eight Egyptian style theatres left in the entire country.
And one just so happens to be right in the town I live in.
When I moved to Coos Bay, Oregon nine years ago, I immediately fell in love with the place. Even though it’s the largest coastal town on the Oregon coast, it’s a place which is more or less perpetually frozen in time, still looking pretty much as it did between thirty and seventy years ago. And, as someone who is not exactly into the modern world, it made a perfect place for me to live and escape away from the 21st Century. I began exploring right away, driving every street of it and the town neighboring it, North Bend, along with walking every alley and back road I could to learn the layout. That’s how I learned about the supernatural element to the town.
There are many places in town which people claim supernatural occurrences take place. From the remains of the old logging buildings on the estuary, to the old Tioga Hotel which has been remodeled into apartments, there is no shortage of ghostly tales. There was even the old McCauley Hospital, which had once been the focal point of the town’s annual ghost walks until it was demolished in 2018. As a side note, I heard a rumor that a couple people broke into that place right before it got torn down. Something sure spooked them, because a friend of mine on the police force told me they gave him a fright, bursting in the night before Easter and rambling about something. I always wondered what they saw in there.
But, for me, the place in town I always loved the most, and enjoyed the most hearing about the ghostly accounts told, was the Egyptian Theatre.
Originally built as a garage in 1922, it was renovated by a man named Charles Noble into a movie theatre in 1925, where it drew in droves of people from around the area to watch films, and enjoy live vaudeville performances. It continued to operate almost to the end of the 20th Century, when other theatres began to attract younger moviegoers, and for a while, it almost seemed as though the historic building might even be closed for good and gutted. But, thanks to the efforts of local preservation societies, it was saved, and now operates as a theatre once again. They mostly play only older movies, along with live performances.
And, of course, it draws curious people for the paranormal rumors surrounding it.
For years, people have reported strange occurrences happening inside the building, both when it’s open, and after hours. Patrons and employees alike have spoken about a pervasive feeling of being watched inside the building, but finding no one there when the place was searched. There have been reports of being touched by invisible hands, a few even pushed slightly. Beyond physical interaction, employees have reported the sounds of old film projectors playing and unseen audiences laughing after hours, along with the eerie playing of the theatre’s Wurlitzer pipe organ, along with a host of other occurrences. No ghost hunting team has ever gone in to try and document these events. And to Natasha, that was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Legal, or not.
“Are you freaking nuts?!” Vinny exclaimed, “Do you have any idea how much trouble we’d be in if we got caught breaking and entering? The cops around here are already a bit twitchy with the druggies and the homeless. You wanna give them a reason to throw us into jail alongside them?” Natasha held up a finger, flipping her black hair over her shoulder. “They won’t find out, because I have not one, but two aces in the hole here. The first is that thanks to being friends with Scott, I know the nighttime police sweeps, where they’re going to be and everything. There’ll be an hour long window where they’re not anywhere near the alley where the back door to the theatre is. We can get in and out with no threat of being spotted at all. And the second is, did you forget I’m dating Dylan now?” The realization washed over me like a wave; she had started dating the man who helped the preservation society run the theatre a month or so ago. Damn, she’s been planning this one for a while, I thought.
Vinny had a thoughtful look on his face, his green eyes darting around rapidly, but not seeing. “Hmm” he muttered, then looked at Natasha. “And you’re sure that there’s no chance of us getting caught?” he asked slowly. “Absolutely none” she said, then looked at both of us. “So, how about it?” For a few moments, there was silence, and then Vinny let out a chuckle. “What the hell, why not? The most exciting thing we’ve done the last few weeks is go down to the farmer’s market. This could shake things up a bit” I suddenly became aware that the two of them were looking at me, waiting for me to make my decision. I was always the most sensible of the three of us, doing all I could to keep us out of trouble with others as well as the law. But, I always had one nasty Achilles Heel ever since I had been a child, and that was peer pressure. So, despite the overwhelming feeling that I should tell them no, that I should say we should just find something else to do, I nodded. “Alright, let’s do it” I said simply, causing grins to break out on both of my friend’s faces.
I wish to God in retrospect that I’d just had the damn spine to stand up and say “No”
The rest of the week seemed to pass by faster than usual. Before I knew it, the weekend had arrived. We’d decided that late Saturday night would be the best time to do this, as most places downtown closed up between eleven and midnight, aside from the bars and strip club. To say I felt anxious about breaking the law, something I wasn’t used to doing at all, would be like calling a Megalodon a goldfish, but my worries about disappointing my friends ended up outweighing it. And so, at eleven-thirty, the three of us piled into my beat up Chevy Tahoe, and made our way towards downtown. As I drove us down Ocean Boulevard, which connected the two sides of town, something settled over me. I can’t exactly place it, even to this day. But it was the most uneasy feeling I’ve ever experienced. But I did my best to push it away. It’s nothing, Troy. It’s just because you’re, understandably, worried about this. Plus, the road being deserted isn’t helping much.
My mental chiding seemed to help center me a bit, which was a good thing. The road was now angling downward, and a moment later, we drove into downtown. The darkened shapes of the closed stores seemed to rise up higher on either side of us than they looked during the daytime. We’d decided to cruise by the front entrance first, just to see if anyone were still inside. As I turned the truck onto the main drag, the sign for the theatre rose high above us, a depiction of an Egyptian pharaoh next to the yellow and white letters which proclaimed its name to everyone who drove through town. I spared a glance as we passed it. The lit up marquee windows showed that The Blues Brothers and Jaws would be shown soon. For whatever reason, though, I couldn’t bring myself to look through the glass doors that showed the building’s darkened interior. The uneasy feeling had returned, and, for a moment, it felt as though if I did look, I would see someone, or something staring back out at me. And then we passed it, taking the next right and looping back around to Anderson Ave.
I turned the truck into the narrow alley drive which ran along the back of the theatre and neighboring buildings. Parking right next to the rear doors would be extremely conspicuous, so I pulled up a bit further and parked in a carport like area. Shutting off the engine, I turned to my two friends. “Well, this is it” I said, “Last chance to turn back if anyone’s having second thoughts” I’d hoped that either Vinny or Natasha would’ve gotten cold feet in the last few minutes, allowing us to go do something else. But there was no such luck. “Are you kidding me?” Natasha said from the passenger seat, “We are far too close to back out now!” Vinny grunted from behind me. Well, shit. Resigning myself to the fact they were determined to go through with this, I let a deep breath out through my nose and nodded. The others opened their doors and hopped out. A moment later, I followed.
The night air was cool and crisp on my skin as we slowly walked back down the alley to the rear of the yellow-ish, tan building. Three different sets of red double doors were built into the back of the theatre. Natasha pulled something out of her coat pocket, and I realized, with a small pang of surprise, that it was a lock pick set. A legitimate lock pick set. “Where the hell did you get that?” I whispered to her. She shrugged and smiled. “I have my ways of getting things” she said simply, then pointed to the far right set of doors. “We’ll have a bit of cover from that electrical box. You two keep an eye out while I deal with the lock” And with that, she scurried forward, bending down in front of the door handles. Vinny and I stood guard, each of us looking down both ends of the alley. As the soft sound of Natasha messing with the lock filtered over to me, I realized just how quiet it was. And how eerie hearing downtown so quiet was. Aside from a few distant booms and bangs, and the far off sound of a dog barking, all I could hear was the whistle of the wind as it whipped between the old buildings.
An involuntary shiver cascaded up my spine, and I tried again to reason myself back to a relative sense of calm. “Get a grip, dude, you’re gonna be fine” I whispered under my breath. But this time, it felt as though I weren’t able to entirely convince myself. I suddenly became aware of a creeping sensation, one which made me shoot a look around. Nothing moved in the stillness, no indication of anyone besides us being in the alley. And, yet…I was overcome with the distinct feeling of being watched. Not by either of my friends. But…by someone else. Before I had a chance to even think about it, I heard a rather loud click, and Natasha let out a soft laugh of triumph. “We’re in, ladies and gentleman!” she declared, standing up and pulling on the door. It opened silently, the streetlight in the alley casting a small shaft of light into the darkness beyond. Turning, she waved an arm at Vinny and I. “Come on, let’s get inside”
Before either of us could say anything, she turned and disappeared into the dark. I shot a look at Vinny, who simply shrugged. “After you, my man” he whispered. I let out a deep sigh, and then moved to the door. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the small flashlight, and then pulled on the heavy metal, slipping inside, Vinny right behind me. The darkness swallowed us as the door closed. For a moment, a small rush of panic from not being able to see flashed through me, before a light appeared beside me. It wasn’t from a flashlight, though; instead, a small, orange flame flickered beside me. “Don’t turn on your flashlights yet, just follow me” Natasha said, the flame making her face seem to dance and move behind it. She turned and headed away, leaving us no choice but to follow. I listened to her and didn’t turn on my flashlight. But every fiber of my being was screaming at me to. Because the feeling of being watched out in the alleyway? Had quintupled in here. The best way to describe it, was that we were angrily being stared at. And I didn’t like the sensation one bit.
Natasha led us up a flight of steps and pushed open another door. “We’re here” she said, still keeping her voice low, “You can turn on your flashlights now” Thank you, God, I silently said, snapping mine on and casting a bright white light into the room we’d entered. A moment later, so did my two friends’ lights. The beams played around, and I heard Vinny let out a bit of a gasp. “Ho-lyyyy shit” he muttered.
Natasha had guided us into the main theatre. The ceiling rose high above our heads, almost out of sight of even the flashlights. Rows upon rows of red movie seats stretched out and away from us, seeming almost unending in the shadows. The walls were all covered in hieroglyphs, all still original from the 1920s. To our left, the second story, which housed a smaller row of seats, along with the projection room rose about twenty feet above us. And to the right, was the stage itself. It was flanked by two huge columns, the screen rolled up and revealing a mosaic of an Egyptian building on the back wall, with two men clutching staffs sitting on either side. Directly in front of the stage sat the organ, its seating bench tucked beneath it.
“Okay, this is a trip to be in at night!” Natasha exclaimed excitedly, then pulled the backpack she’d been wearing off her shoulders. Dropping it into a seat, she unzipped it and began pulling items from it. “Guys, here” she said, holding them out. Vinny stepped forward and grabbed the camcorder from her; as someone who’d had a lifelong dream of being a filmmaker, he was our resident cameraman. I stepped forward and took two items from her: an infrared thermometer and an EVP recorder. The rest, she placed on the ground, and then faced Vinny. “Alright, tell me when you’re recording” He fumbled with the camcorder for a second, then shot her a thumbs up. Instantly, she took on a somber, eerie expression, giving an admittedly creepy look at the camera. “Well, well, welcome back to The Three Ghostkuteers, everyone. I hope you all have been well since our last trip. Tonight, you join us in a very, very special place, and one close to home for us. We are currently in the Egyptian Theatre in Coos Bay, Oregon, one of the last remaining in the country. It was built in the 1920s by a man named Charles Noble-“
I turned away, tuning her out as I did. The woman really, really enjoys being in front of the camera. Better her than me. Shining my light around, I looked up at the balcony. I could see the small hole in the projection booth where the movie projector would shine out onto the screen. Something caught the beam’s light, reflecting off it slightly, and I aimed the light at the wall. It was a wrought iron light fixture, one which had been shaped into the figure of a King Cobra, poised to strike. Gazing around, I saw they adorned much of the walls. I let out a small shudder at it. God, do I hate snakes. Thankfully, though, the feeling of being watched I’d had in the alley and the darkened back of the theatre had seemingly disappeared. Yeah, see, what’d I tell you, Troy? Nothing but your nerves.
Natasha had finished her opening monologue and moved to the edge of the stage, on which she placed the small, square spirit box. “And now, let’s see if anyone would like to speak with us” she said, flicking it on. Instantly, the silence of the theatre was shattered by the sound of static, intermittently interrupted by quick snippets of radio shows being picked up. “Is there anyone here who’d like to talk to us?” she called out into the huge room. The static and snippets were the only sound to answer her. After a minute, she tried again. “Are there any spirits who’d like to communicate with us?” There was still nothing. Vinny panned the camera from the box to Natasha as she paced back and forth for a few minutes. A small look of disappointment flooded over her face, but she instantly plastered it over with the same look she’d given the camera before. “Well, it looks like the spirit box isn’t gonna work tonight, so we’re gonna have to try something else” She pulled out an EVP recorder identical to mine and switched it on. “Let’s try this instead, shall we? Remember, by the way guys, if you’re new here and want to see more, to like and subscribe-“
I turned away again, feeling a small pang of irritation flow through me. This is freakin’ ridiculous, man. The longer we stay in here, the more chance we have of getting caught. Truth be told, as much as I enjoyed ghost hunting, I didn’t even really believe in the paranormal. In all the years the three of us had filmed together, not once had we caught anything, on tape or otherwise. In fact, many times we’d had to fake spooky occurrences in order to make sure our videos got any views at all. This is your own fault, man, I silently chided myself, you’re the one who couldn’t stand up to them and say no. You really, seriously need to grown a spine and learn how to say no. The mental self lecture was furthering my rotten mood, and I began to feel a wave of anger at my two friends, as well as myself boil up.
“Hell with this” I finally muttered, then turned and began walking up the aisle. “Troy, where the hell are you going?” I heard Natasha call out behind me. I stopped, not looking over my shoulder, but quietly aiming my voice behind me and allowing a hint of irritation to seep into it. “I’m gonna go check out the second floor balcony, okay? I don’t exactly like just standing here” For a moment, there was silence, and then her voice came, soft and almost apologetic. “Okay, go ahead” Before she could say anything more, I strode away, walking to the open doorway which led out of the theater and into the concession area. I hooded my flashlight beam with one hand to make sure it wouldn’t accidentally shine out of the glass entrance doors into the street and looked around. The lobby and concession stand took up most of the front area, the darkened shape of it stretching along the far wall.
Taking a few steps ahead, I turned and looked up at the wall above me. Large, blue letters stretched out from one side of it to the other. Through these doors pass the most wonderful people. I snorted softly. “Yeah, unfortunately, not tonight” I shook my head, then looked around. And nearly jumped out of my skin. Something also seemed to jump back. I felt my heartbeat begin to race in my chest and my breath quickened. “Shit…” I let out weakly, then slowly moved forward. After a few steps, I suddenly realized what I’d seen and let out a soft laugh of relief.
“Your own damn reflection, you fucking pussy” Shaking my head, I turned away from the glass wall and headed for the stairs to the second floor. At the base of them, I stopped and shone my flashlight up. “Ooh, boy” I said quietly. Sitting next to the stairway like a sentry, was a huge, golden statue of a pharaoh. It towered over me, and I estimated that, were it be standing straight up, it’d easily be between eight and ten feet tall. It stared straight ahead at the wall ahead of it, and I couldn’t help but let out a small shiver as I stared at it. It just seemed so damn eerie in the dark, and I quickly moved past it, heading up the stairs and stepping out onto the second story balcony.
I shone my light around. Red seats again surrounded me, though this time far fewer. Ahead of me, I could see the balcony’s edge and the hulking shape of the main stage beyond. I could also see the beams of my friends’ flashlights playing over it, and hear both of their voices speaking softly. Deciding while I was up here to at least check out the projection booth, I strode over to the door and tried to turn the handle. It was locked. Feeling my irritation bubble over into exasperation, I jiggled the handle in some stupid attempt to open it. But the door stayed shut. I turned away and rubbed my eyes, again hearing the voices of my friends softly filtering up to me from down below.
“Hey, if there really are any ghosts, or spooks, or specters, or whatever in here? If you’re actually real, could you appear to us, please?” I whispered to no one, “That way my friends can get what they want and I can go home” I received only silence in reply. I hadn’t really expected anything, anyways. You know what? Screw this, I’m going back down there and telling them I’m going home, with or without them. This is beyond stupid, I just broke the law for what? For nothing! For something dumb as hell. And with that, I turned to walk away. But I hadn’t even taken a single step when something crashed into me like a wave. The breath was driven from my lungs as I felt a massive chill shoot through me, as though I’d been doused with ice water. “What the fuck?!” I hissed through gritted teeth, then froze, my eyes going wide. The feeling of being watched had returned with a vengeance, and it had seemingly been ramped up in its intensity. I shot a look around, but saw nobody.
Still, the feeling remained, and with each passing second, it almost seemed to grow stronger. Chill after chill rolled up my spine, and even though I didn’t really believe, something deep inside me told me that it was time to get out. Okay, time to leave, I said in my head, and headed quickly for the stairs. As I reached the head, I turned to look back one final time. That’s when I saw something. It disappeared when I aimed my flashlight at it, but I swear a second earlier it had been the outline of a person, standing in the shadows and watching me. The split second sight catapulted me into motion, and I hurried down the steps, shining my light every which way but loose. Believer or not, I knew something wanted us out. I’d planned on jumping off the second to last stair and running for the main theatre floor. But as I reached the bottom, I froze.
For a moment, I couldn’t place why. And then, the realization fell over me like a tsunami. I let out an involuntary gasp, and fear like I’d never felt before surged through me. I didn’t want to turn around and look. I wanted to pretend I hadn’t seen it. I desperately wanted to. But, like a dumbass character in a horror movie, I couldn’t help it. I needed to look. I slowly turned, aiming my flashlight back up. And I couldn’t help but let out a strangled scream, falling backwards over my own feet as I began to backpedal rapidly.
The statue of the pharaoh still sat where it had. It still towered over me, looking as imposing and eerie as ever. But it’s carved and painted eyes were no longer staring straight ahead at the wall. Instead, they had somehow moved. And when I’d turned, I’d come to find they were staring directly at me.
I scrambled to my feet, snatching the flashlight from the floor where I’d dropped it and aiming it at the statue again. It stared straight out at nothing again. But I knew what I’d seen. It hadn’t been a trick of my mind, or the light. The freaking thing’s eyes had moved to watch me as I passed down by it. I began to stammer out as I backed away from it. “Okay, that’s it, no no no no, we’re done here, fuck this shit, I’m officially a believer, we’re leaving, right now” I kept backing towards the doorway to the theatre, never taking my eyes off the statue. I was terrified I’d seen it suddenly stand up and turn to lumber after me like Boris Karloff or something.
The blaring sound of the theatre’s organ slashed through the silence, causing me to let out another strangled scream and jump almost a foot off the ground. I whipped around, thinking I would see my moronic friends tinkering with the instrument. Instead, I froze again. The theatre was no longer dark. Both of my friends had seemingly vanished from the room, as I could no longer see them. The movie screen had somehow been pulled down, and above me, I heard the whir of the movie projector playing. An old, black and white movie, one which had no sound, played on the screen, occasionally changing to show dialogue being displayed in white letters.
It was also no longer empty.
The entire theatre was packed. I saw people sitting at almost every single seat in the huge room. I could only see the backs of their heads as they watched the movie playing. At the edge of the stage, what looked like a man now sat at the organ, playing it in time with the film. A slapstick moment came across the screen, and the audience began laughing. In any other situation, it would’ve been a comforting sound. But at that moment, it was the most spine chilling sound I’d ever heard. Especially as another wave of realization crashed into me. From the little I could see, everyone in the theatre looked to be dressed in long passed fashions.
That’s when the voice, low and quiet, came from behind me. “Good evening, sir” it said. It sounded like a man’s voice, one rather low and deep pitched, but something about it paralyzed me on the spot. The voice continued, putting on an air of pleasant politeness. “We’re so glad you could make it, it’s been so long since we’ve had new patrons arrive at a showing. If I could just see your ticket, please?”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Then, I managed to squeak out two words. “Uh, ticket?” The tone of the voice seemed to change somewhat. “Yes, your ticket. That’s the only way you could’ve gotten in. Please, let me verify it and show you to your seat” Ohhh, shit. Whoever, or whatever the voice belonged to, thought I had shown up like a regular moviegoer. The voice’s tone became less polite. “You do have a ticket, right, sir?” I was beyond terrified to answer, but I was more terrified to remain silent. For a moment, I considered lying. But I feared what might happen if I did. So I told the truth.
“I….uh, I, uh….I don’t have a ticket, sir” I stammered out, my voice barely above a whisper. Instantly, all sound stopped in the room like someone had flipped a switch. “You…don’t have a ticket?” the voice said, all pretense of manners vanishing from it, “Then how did you get in here for the late night showing?” Oh, god. I forced myself to speak, still unable to say anything except the truth. “My…my friends and I….broke in…through the back door…to…ghost hunt…” There was silence for a few moments, and then a heavy hand dropped onto my shoulder. My head swiveled to look at it. Oh, fuck me sideways. It wasn’t a regular hand. It was a fucking claw. One with black skin, tipped with what looked like razor sharp nails. It sat there for a moment, then tightened; almost painfully so, making me let out a small whimper of pain.
That’s when I looked up. Everyone in the theatre had turned to look at me. My initial thought had been correct; they all wore clothing from almost a century ago, and not the stuff cosplayers wear, either. They also had very angry expressions on their faces, as if they’d just noticed the intruder among their midst. The voice finally came again, almost directly behind me. Its tone lowered, almost sounding guttural and animal, making my legs almost melt into jelly from the fear. “Then, might I make a suggestion to you and your trespassing little friends?” My breath came in rapid, ragged gasps, and I barely managed to force out the one word. “Yes?”
At the single word reply, which now more closely resembled a growl than a word, I did something I will forever wish I hadn’t. I finally turned and looked up at who was addressing me. The only way I can describe what happened is, my mind shattered. The next thing I remember, I was crashing into the back doors of the theatre into the night.
And I was screaming.
That was a month or so ago. When I’d stumbled back into the alley, I’d turned and, in what I can only call blind fear and panic, bolted for my truck. I hadn’t even heard my friends chasing after me. Not until Vinny caught up to me as I scrambled with my keys, grabbing me from behind and turning me to face him. He said the look I’d had on my face scared him and Natasha more than anything ever had before. I’d been pale as a sheet, my eyes wider than they ever thought a human’s could be. I'd been babbling softly. I’d been saying the words “They want us to leave” over and over. They didn’t ask me what had happened. They just pushed me into the backseat of my truck and drove away from there. It was clear, as I found out later on, that both of them hadn’t seen anything. As far as they were concerned before seeing me dash to the rear doors, it was just an empty theatre. Neither one of them ever asked me what I saw that night. And for that, I’m thankful. Because I could never utter from my lips what I did see.
But I’ve had nightmares since then. Horrible ones. Ones that’ve been so bad, I had to let out what happened to me, deciding to just post it here, regardless of whether people believe me or not.
Nightmares about being back in that theatre after hours. About seeing that pharaoh statue’s eyes flick in its painted sockets to look at me. About seeing all those people, people long since dead, sitting and watching the films they did when they were alive. About seeing that hand fall on my shoulder, hearing that voice, telling me not to come back until I have a ticket.
And about turning to see who the hand and voice belonged to.
The Egyptian Theatre will be celebrating its centennial this year. People are planning to show up in 1920s cars, dressed in period clothing. They’re even going to show an old, silent film as part of the festivities. But I won’t be attending it. I won’t ever go anywhere near it again. The one time I tried, a week or so ago, I started trembling with fear. And the mental image played over and over in my head.
The image of turning to see that horrible canine head attached to the human-like body, red, glowing eyes glaring down at me as it’s sharp teeth glinted in the light.
I pray to god I never will end up with a ticket to one of its late night showings.
But I can't help but fear that, like those packed into the theatre, sooner or later, we all will.
submitted by JLGoodwin1990 to nosleep [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 05:49 Ford9863 [Asteria] Part 27

The gas poured from the hole and hung in the air, falling slightly as more poured through behind it. Thomas had no guesses as to what the substance could be. Chemistry was never his strong suit. But he knew enough to be afraid of it.
He was the first to spring forward, cutting the corner and turning left at the first junction before reaching the gas. His foot slid as he turned, moving a small piece of paper on the ground beneath him. That wasn’t important. What mattered most was getting to the end of the chem lab and to the shaft that would take them where they needed to go.
With a quick turn of his head, he confirmed the others followed behind. He could almost hear his own feet slapping against the floor, though the ringing was still far too loud in his ears to attempt communication. He knew he’d have to try and keep track of their whereabouts on his own. They’d turned left; the gaseous room was now on the right, and they needed to get past it.
He tried to envision the room from above. It wasn’t a perfect grid, which made things difficult—but if he could keep the relative location of the gas in his mind, they might be able to take a wide path around it and pass on the other side. Or so he hoped, anyway.
They approached another junction and he stopped for a brief second, shining his light to the right. The path in that direction appeared straight, and he saw no sign of the gas reaching this far as of yet—so that’s where he went. Again, he craned his neck and confirmed Layna and Mark were close behind. Neither made any attempt at objecting to his path.
Straight ahead they went. Thomas counted his steps as he ran—at twenty paces, he figured they must be about even with the toxic room. Both paths thus far had been straight, so the danger remained to his right. The next junction was only twenty more strides ahead; a junction which had one single sheet of paper, pointing to the right. That must have been the way they went the first time. If they went that way now, they’d run right back into the room.
So he passed it and continued straight. Ten paces, twenty, thirty. He cursed whoever designed this section of the ship for making this stretch of rooms so oblong.
Another junction finally arrived after nearly eighty steps. By that time his pace had slowed; he wondered if his stride had shortened now that his run had become more of a jog. He leaned against a glass wall and took a couple of long, deep breaths, shining his light down the three paths in front of him.
The goal was to the right. He knew that. They hadn’t strayed so far that he’d lost his way already. So he turned to look at the others and gestured in that direction while lifting his brow. Layna and Mark both nodded in agreement.
After twenty or so paces, the hall began to curve to the left. Thomas once again tried to picture the room’s layout. From that point, the gaseous room would be to the right and a bit ahead of them. If the hall had just continued straight, they would have moved past the danger with ease. The curve complicated things.
He tried to keep a clear picture in his mind of the curve, tried to account for exactly how much it moved them away from their path. When they hit the next junction, he expected the proper path to be to the right—but a single sheet of paper on the ground showed that they’d previously gone that direction.
“Is that right?” he called out, pointing to the paper. He could hear his voice now; the ringing had calmed to a dull, persistent tone.
“I don’t remember,” Layna said, her voice muffled by his damaged ears. Still, he could hear her, and that was enough.
Mark shook his head. “That’s got to be the right way. Maybe we just did something else wrong the first time.” His words were clear—his neck strained with each one he spoke, clearly forcing his voice louder than Layna had.
“Right it is, then,” Thomas said and started in that direction.
The hall curved again, this time back to the right. Thomas was certain this was still the right way; the curve had to have been just enough to counteract the other. If he was right, this would put them back on track to avoid the cloud and get them to the safety of the maintenance shaft.
But he was wrong. After following the curve for quite some time, they ran into a dark green cloud floating over the next junction. He had no idea how far it had spread in the time since they’d run, or how close they were to being able to sneak past it—but running into it now meant they were going to lose even more ground.
They turned back and chose another path at the junction. Whereas they’d turned right the first time, they now chose the straight path. Thomas tried to picture it in his head, but it came out as a jumbled mess. He wasn’t sure he could even backtrack to where they’d started at this point.
Once again, they moved through a gently curving corridor. The next split was left without one of their paper arrows; Thomas hoped it was a good sign, but didn’t voice that to the others. Right seemed like the logical way to go, so that’s where they went. After that, the rooms became smaller and the junctions more frequent.
After the third intersection, they stopped. Each path looked the same: dark. They didn’t see any toxic cloud of chemicals in their way, but they didn’t see any sign of their destination, either. Thomas pulled the pad of paper from his pocket and opened it to one of the few remaining pages. Then he drew an ‘X’ in the middle, and held the pad where the others could see.
Layna shined her light on it. “What’s that?”
“This is the gas,” Thomas said. “We started here”—he drew a line down from the ‘X’—“and moved this way. Then this way at the first split. The hall curved here—”
“That’s too much,” Mark said. “It was less of a curve than that.”
Thomas lifted his gaze to Mark, then flicked to Layna. “Do you agree?”
She pressed her lips tight. “I’m… not sure. It’s hard to gauge.”
“Alright,” Thomas said, drawing over the line with a less curvy one. “We’ll say it was less. Then we turned right, and that hall curved—”
“No, that one was straight,” Mark said. “It was the one after that curved.”
Layna shook her head. “No, I think we were straight for a while and turned a couple of times before—”
Thomas flipped the book shut. They were getting nowhere. Somewhere around them the cloud was creeping through the halls, slowly whittling down their options, and he wasn’t about to sit in one spot and wait for it to reach them.
“We need to just pick a direction,” he said. “I don’t care which. Let’s just keep moving.”
Layna nodded, then gestured to their left. “I vote this way.”
Mark pointed to the right. “I say there.”
Thomas turned to the right and said, “I’m with Layna.”
Mark grumbled something under his breath but followed all the same.
They made a few turns as they moved deeper through the halls, eventually finding a wall that wasn’t made of the lab’s familiar glass. Thomas wasn’t sure which side they’d popped out on, but it certainly wasn’t where they’d expected to be. A single airtight door with a circular handle stood in front of them. In bright yellow letters across its face, it said, ‘Cloning Room’.
“Didn’t know this was back here,” Mark said. Thomas thought he heard a hint of shakiness in the man’s tone. It could have still been the shock from the gunshot wearing off, but he couldn’t be sure.
Layna pulled the radio from her hip. “Neyland, come in.”
It crackled to life without hesitation. “Yes?”
“Chem lab is fucked. Something is leaking and we got turned around. Not sure if we can get back through to the shaft we were heading toward. Is there a way through the cloning room?”
The line remained silent for a moment. “You should find another way to reach the maintenance shaft, as planned.”
She shook her head. “You didn’t answer my question. Is there a way through there or not? Time is short here, so if you want us to help you out instead of suffocating in some sort of toxic cloud, you might want to give a damned answer.”
He answered with a short, “Yes.” The line was silent for a moment, so Layna returned the radio to her hip.
“In we go,” she said. As she reached for the handle, Neyland’s voice sounded once more.
“Be sure to move quickly through the area, you don’t want to—”
Layna clicked the knob of the radio off. “Don’t give a shit,” she said. Then she turned to glance at the others. “Do you?”
Mark and Thomas both shook their heads. At least they could agree on something.
submitted by Ford9863 to Ford9863 [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 05:49 Ford9863 Horrors of the Asteria - Part 26

As they exited the elevator shaft into the chem labs, a strong metallic scent filled the air. Thomas instinctively held his breath but couldn’t keep it in for long.
“Probably best not to touch anything while we’re here,” Layna said, waving a hand in front of her nose. “We don’t know what kind of nasty stuff has been spilled all over the place with these shifts.”
Thomas nodded, scanning the landing with his flashlight. On the wall opposite the elevator was a painting of Earth’s silhouette. The Asteria’s insignia was painted within that, reversed as white. At the top were the words, “Taking Humanity to the Next Level”.
Below those words was one word: ‘Lies’. Written in red, the substance had dried as it dripped down the rest of the wall. It made it look like the surface itself was bleeding. Thomas questioned if it was blood but wasn’t sure he wanted to know for sure. It wouldn’t have surprised him at this point.
“What do you suppose that’s about?” He asked, his light lingering on the image.
Mark shrugged, turning his attention to the hall on the right. “This mission was always full of shit,” he said. “Probably about that.”
“Just because things went sideways doesn’t mean the mission was shit,” Layna said.
He turned to face her with a skeptical look on his face. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you believed their over-the-top slogans and propaganda.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t mean that. I just—” she pressed her lips together, considering her words. “I think most of the people on board had good intentions. They really wanted to believe in this thing.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter much now, does it,” Mark said, stepping down the hall.
“No, I guess not,” Layna said, following behind.
Thomas lingered at the wall for a moment, feeling a strange sensation in his gut. It had never been about the mission for him, either. In truth, he never took the time to fully understand what the ship set out to do. He just knew how it would help the people he wanted to help. That was enough.
He wondered what became of them after he left.
“Tommy boy, you coming or what?” Mark called back, shining his light in Thomas’s eyes.
Thomas nodded and moved to catch up with them.
The chem labs were set up similarly to the bio labs on the opposite side of the deck. Each room was made of glass, though it appeared a bit thicker on this side. Cabinets lined most rooms, each with various symbols. Many of them held plain warnings about the caustic chemicals held within. Most appeared to be fully intact—they were properly secured for the event of turbulence.
One room they passed looked like it had been abandoned mid-experiment. Glass littered the tile floor, no doubt the remnants of beakers that once stood on the black table in the center. The floor itself was streaked with deep, slashing burns—whatever chemical had spilled during the shifts had tried to eat its way right through the floor. Beneath the tile was a layer of some dull gray, pitted substance. The chemicals didn’t penetrate it.
A dense green fog filled another small room. Thomas stepped close and pressed his light against the glass, trying to see through. But the fog was too thick. Even at ground level, he couldn’t see more than an inch of the floor. The toxic cloud moved slowly, almost swirling.
“Are these things airtight?” Layna asked, shining her light on the door’s edge.
“Well it’s not leaking out anywhere that I can see,” Mark said. He scanned the ceiling where it met the glass wall. The cloud moved slowly against the corner but appeared contained.
“What about vents?” Layna asked. “They had to be able to breathe working in there.”
“I’m sure there are safeguards,” Mark said. “Things like this usually have their own ventilation systems, and beyond that, if something like this happens there are sensors to detect and seal it off.”
Thomas nodded. “Yeah, but I’m not sure I trust the safeguards on this ship,” he said, taking a step back. “Best not to push out luck and linger around this thing, I think.”
They turned and continued working their way through the lab, finding the path harder to follow than expected. Unlike the bio labs, the chem labs were not laid out in a perfect grid. Some rooms were much larger than others, some were oddly shaped. The result was a mix of long and short corridors, some curving, some ending abruptly. If they had the ship’s lights, they’d probably be able to see through enough rooms to keep their bearings. But with the dim light of their flashlights, the space was a maze.
“That’s the way we came,” Mark said, stopping as Layna tried to turn left at a junction.
She shook her head. “No, we came from that way. See? There’s that orange box in the corner of the room.” Her light settled on a bright orange case inside the nearest room, a black biohazard symbol painted on its lid.
“That’s a different box,” Mark said. “The other one was open.”
Layna furrowed her brow. “Was it?” She looked to Thomas for confirmation, but he only shrugged. Keeping track was becoming a bit of a nightmare.
“Alright, maybe we should find a way to mark our paths,” Layna said. “Leave something behind at these junctions.”
Thomas felt at his pockets. After a moment, he found the pencil and notepad he’d had earlier.
“How about this?” he said, showing it to the others. He scratched a large, bold arrow into one of the pages and tore it from the book. “We can mark down which way we went.”
“Perfect,” Layna said. “Let’s go right. If we end up circling back around, we’ll know we were wrong.”
Thomas knelt and placed the paper on the ground pointing to the right. He returned the pad and pencil to his pocket. As long as they didn’t experience another shift, the paper arrows would work.
They found themselves walking in circles a few times before they’d laid enough arrows to feel like they were finally progressing. Thomas had torn at least a dozen pages from the book before they reached consecutive junctions without markings. It was working, though. That was all that mattered.
As they worked their way forward, a faint sound became audible. At first Thomas dismissed it as one of the other’s breathing, but as they moved forward, it became clear that wasn’t the case. With the power out, he knew it wasn’t anything the ship itself was doing. It was something in the labs.
It grew louder as they moved deeper through the corridors. It was rhythmic and soft, almost like a wheeze or a growl. They all exchanged a glance, understanding it was likely they were about to find another infected crew member.
They turned a corner and finally saw it. The man stood in the center of a nearby lab, facing the opposite direction. Bone stuck through the flesh of his right arm, no doubt broken during one of the gravity shifts. Blood streaked across the glass windows.
Their silence wasn’t enough to keep from drawing the thing’s attention. When the light from all three flashlights fell on it, it turned. Blood ran down the man’s face, a large gash running across his forehead. He let out a long, piercing shriek, and then ran for the door or the lab.
It wasn’t locked.
The trio turned to run, knowing they had to be close to the next elevator shaft. Thomas imagined how it might go—they make it to the shaft, tear open the latch, and shove the infected man through. It wouldn’t be the prettiest way to deal with it, but it would work.
They turned a corner, a loose notebook paper crunching beneath Thomas’s feet. With each stride, he felt a sharp stab in his side. He couldn’t keep this up for long. As it was, just catching his breath was going to be immeasurably painful.
Then they found themselves approaching a dead end, having not paid enough attention to the arrows they’d left along the ground. The infected barreled toward them, his broken arm swinging at his side. He growled and wheezed as he ran.
“Fuck this,” Mark said, pulling his pistol from his belt.
Thomas’s eyes went wide. “No, Mark, you can’t—”
The first shot rang out. Thomas clenched his eyes and raised his palms to the sides of his head. The sound alone felt like someone had clapped their hands against his ears. He no longer heard the man’s wheezing or uneven steps—just a loud, persistent ringing.
Another shot rang out, this one muffled by his already wounded hearing. He felt the force of it in his chest, though, and hoped Mark had at least hit his target. Thomas opened his eyes and looked forward, eyeing the man twitching on the ground.
He retrieved the flashlight he’d dropped when Mark first fired, then flicked his eyes between Mark and Layna. They appeared to be yelling at each other, but their voices were nothing but subtle tones hidden behind the screeching in Thomas’s head.
Then he saw something much more worrisome. He opened his mouth to speak. He could feel his vocal cords vibrate as he tried to make the words, but that screeching in his head was too much. The others must have been experiencing the same because neither turned to look at him. But he needed to get their attention.
So he shoved both of them on the shoulder. They turned and glared at him, confused and angry, waiting for some sort of explanation.
He simply pointed down the hall in the direction Mark had shot. To the glass room at the far end. And to the thin stream of green gas pouring through a neat little hole near the top.
submitted by Ford9863 to HFY [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 05:48 satiricalquip Hello. Does anyone want to hear my X files fanfic idea? I just be high and pondering aliens. It’s not the whole story just a lengthy idea. If not that’s cool it’s a lot of words man.

Fun x files fanfic idea: The typical depiction of aliens that we know with the big head and big black oblong eyes 👽 are just us from the future because of millions/billions of years of evolution. The massive big eyes are from evolution because now we all use screens so much and use our eyes until they ache and dry out that they eventually we evolved to be big ol wet hardly blinking eyes. Hands loose digits and end up being three long creepy fingers because we don’t use our hands as much and don’t need detailed digits because telepathy evolves to be a real thing hence that big ol head for big ol brains. The grey skin could be from adapting to lack of vitamin D or whatever because it’s dark there cuz the sun don’t hit anymore idk.
So aliens are not aliens they’re us evolved billions of years in the future, okay cool right. So Mulder be searching for aliens his whole life like he do and he starts to learn conspiracy theories about how lots of people are starting to believe aliens are just us fork the future. Maybe the one of the lone gunmen guys finds super compelling proof of it and tries to tell Mulder but he’s in denial but it’s becoming a community on Reddit and a movement in conspiracy groups. Many people are on board to believe aliens are just future us based on sightings or some shit maybe. But Mulder eventual meets with the aliens and it’s kind like huge for him like meeting god but he’s angry because he feels his wholes life’s work was bullshit But they tell him that since aliens is us we really be alone in this universe and their science found the end of the universe so it’s a big ol box or something like we’re just gods fucked up terrarium blah blah I won’t get into that so we’re the only planet with human/human esque life or any life at all. Like maybe there was many rad liveable planets that we eventually found that were ripe with life but some human bullshit happened and everyone is gone and we’re the last remaining life on the planet. Idk. That seems like it hits more because I think that is totally plausible in reality. But all that makes Mulder spiral into this fuck everything depression like my whole life I’ve just been searching for alien life and we’re alone (or sad it’s all gone idk) and he’s like “its nothing Scully! this is nothing and we’re it! So that really don’t hit fit him but after a while Mulder gets his shit together and stops drinking or whatever he be doing and he realizes he can try to work with the aliens to help the future and help other dead planets idk. But all that being said he starts to think covid or some covid like panini was done by the future aliens now to try to kill some of our worlds worst people or kill masses because their future population is insane and they gotta cull masses because everyone is starving (them long gray skinny bodies bro, they ain’t got no nutrition) and he has to deal with the ethical dilemma that helping future us could hurt innocent people now and that whole back and forth and he is down for the death because he is like this is the only “us” in the universe and we gotta save future us but Scully is like as a medical professional this is unethical I won’t stand for it we can’t let it happen and that whole back and forth. But like maybe a shitty alien that has to save his future kid or some shit leaks the virus out anyways or commits some wild atrocity in history for the same reason. And like some missed assassinations can be blamed on aliens with bad sir or some shit, and like all/if any the attempted tries on sHitlers life were future aliens that really fucked up.
But it’s a super creative idea to think that alien sightings ate just future humans sightings because we learned time travel.
Thanks for reading ✌🏻
submitted by satiricalquip to highdeas [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 05:48 SatinsLittlePrincess Tips for allies during Pride

Clearly a lot of folks in this forum are queer, and this post is largely not for them, though I (bi- cis woman) will specifically talk about my experience as a bi-woman. Most of the folks in the forum who aren’t queer, though, generally support Pride. A number of people in this forum have talked about not feeling entirely comfortable attending Pride for various reasons, some of which come down to understanding what it means to be an ally. The linked article also has some really good advice.
1) Know why you’re there. The reason to attend an event like Pride as an ally is to show your support for the LGBTIQ+ community. To support that community means showing solidarity - like really, just pumping up the numbers can help make politicians a little more concerned when they want to use a sub-group in the LGBTIQ+ community as a punching bag to rally their allies. Spending a little money or volunteering or otherwise demonstrating support can also benefit the community. Something that really doesn’t help? Critiquing the community, or nit picking. I don’t care if you don’t like leather daddies, or drag queens, or trans people who don’t “pass”, this is their event, so put on your big adult pants and cope.
2) Sometimes it’s OK to be uncomfortable. Any time one is a member of the generally dominant group and one finds oneself in a situation where one is in a group where that dominance is not given the usual preference, it can be uncomfortable. As a white person, the first time I went to a civil rights rally was a huge eye opening experience. Everything around me growing up gave preference to white people - until that event. And then there I was, a teenage white girl in a place where I was a small racial minority, and Black people were being very explicitly being given the prominent positions - as they should given their role in the event and their far greater expertise in the subject matter. But did that make me feel comfortable? No. I was rewiring my brain to deal with a whole bunch of internalised racism and there was a lot of it. And holy kittens I learned a lot that day. The same is going to be true for a lot of straight folks.
3) Don’t make yourself someone else’s problem. It’s fine to be uncomfortable, but you need to deal with that yourself. It’s fine to not want to date someone of your sex, but it’s not OK to treat every gay person like they are going to force themselves on you because they’re not.
4) Other occasions also matter. For any number of reasons, Pride is not going to be the perfect event for everyone. Some folks don’t like crowds or noise. Some have other fears that may make the event more difficult. And, just showing up at pride doesn’t mean you’ve done your official “not a homo/trans phobe annual duty” so you don’t have to pay attention when people say or do awful things. You still need to speak up when people are shitty. And for some of you that speaking up might be a more comfortable way to show your support. And of course there is also voting.
And now the bi-part
This bit is more personal and very much does not reflect every bi-person’s experience. I easily pass as a cis straight woman. My first visits to Pride, I felt like such a poser, because I was dealing with the reality of not fully accepting my sexuality at an event where everyone around me was celebrating theirs. I felt like a poser because… I was a poser. That wasn’t anyone doing anything to me to make me feel uncomfortable, it was me making me feel uncomfortable. Recognising who to blame was key for me to feel a whole lot safer. And attending while I was coming to terms with what being bi- meant to me? That really helped me define it without hurting anyone else.
Now I’m a lot more comfortable, and… I also know that if my bi- boyfriend and I go to Pride this year, we’re going to look like a straight couple. And that is going to effect how other people see us. In the past when I’ve attended with a male partner, my partner and I have had straights tell us how awful various queer people and events are because they think we will be the right audience for that. I’ve also seen any number of straight people be openly rude to queer people at Pride. I’ve witnessed anti-Pride protesters at Pride events. And I’ve witnessed more than one bashing.
Because of that, I know that the vague mistrust some folks view me at pride has some justification. It’s not about me - it’s about the reality of being an obviously queer person in a world that isn’t set up to support queer people. Trust is earned. Demanding trust without earning it is not allyship. And not every straight presenting bi-person is actually an ally, much less queer. And yeah, some bi-people hide behind the hetero- part of their sexuality for cover. I know I did for a while…
And I suspect, all of that, and more, plays a role in how bi-people experience Pride. But that doesn’t mean bi-people aren’t welcome at Pride anymore than it means any other queer person who sometimes feels awkward- like some of the older gay men I know feel judged by young hot men during Pride - isn’t welcome at Pride. It just means the dynamics can play out differently for each individual person.
Now I gotta go get me another shadowy rainbow trinket from a queer run business, damnit.
submitted by SatinsLittlePrincess to polyamory [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 05:47 EzekialX Vulturebeard: Bad Roomies Part 3

Part 1: Part 2:
Hi again, it’s the bunny. I’ve just barely stepped into Reddx’s discord, but Ezekial is still posting this saga for me so thank you, Z.
Trigger warning: This will deal with a lot of aspects relating to child neglect (and possible abuse) and Kid being ignored or taking the brunt of Vulture’s anger. Sorry for the spoiler as well, but I think we saw this coming, too (especially if you’ve seen Z talk in the discord). Don’t push yourself to read if you’re not okay with these concepts.
The Cast List
Bunny (author): 33, female. Recovering lifelong doormat slowly building a spine. Neuro spicy gym rat with major depressive disorder, general anxiety disorder, and most recently diagnosed with ADHD. Unfortunately, very familiar with surviving trauma.
Z (poster): My partner. 31, nonbinary (they/them), also neuro spicy with depression, anxiety, OCD, BPD, autism, and also familiar with lifelong trauma.
One Liner Beard (OLB): 33, male, neuro spicy with ADHD and depression. His nickname here comes from the fact that in messenger, he usually has one-word replies like “oof” or “mmm” as an acknowledgement he had seen the message but has nothing further to contribute.
VultureBeard (Vulture): 30, female, neuro spicy and disabled with multiple conditions. She has Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, POTs (postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome), autism, depression, anxiety, chronic migraines, but also possibly a list of things that may or may not be real. The star of this unfortunate circus. Her name comes from how she always pops up when I’m cooking food, complaining about how hungry is and how she’s unable to cook.
Kid: 3. Female. OLB and Vulture’s child. Likely neuro spicy like we all are, but she’s also only 3 years old. Slightly speech delayed and not potty trained yet.
Take a deep breath. Now take another one. This chapter will likely make you mad.

Chapter Three: “Do You Want Bologna?” Or, Vulture as a Parent
Imagine this: it’s eight in the morning and you’re cozy in bed. The blankets are warm, and you hit snooze on your early alarm so you can sleep in before you have to get up.
Your peace is shattered by a toddler crying, followed by the screech of, “WHAT!” or “GET DOWN FROM THERE!”
Yeah, welcome to The Life.
Vulture has a messed-up sleep schedule. It’s partially because Kid doesn’t sleep soundly through the night, but it’s also because Vulture’s sleep schedule is essentially flipped backwards to where she stays up all night and wants to sleep during the day. Vulture says it’s “insomnia” but sometimes she’s up late gaming with Discord friends or watching anime. I couldn’t tell you which issue it was day by day. Sometimes if I go to sleep late, I hear Kid crying from her room because she had night terrors or had potty troubles. Sometimes I hear OLB and Vulture awake shuffling between rooms in the hallway.
Because of this, Vulture and mornings don’t mesh well. Kid is usually put in her room for bedtime around 7 PM, usually with her tablet to keep her company and either give her something to watch, or to play white noises for sleeping. Kid does not have a real sleep routine as well. She’s just kind of shut in her room. Sometimes there’s a bit of a routine like winding her down with chocolate milk and giving her a countdown of “okay, ten more minutes and then bedtime,” but for the most part she just does not want to go to bed. Bedtimes are met with a lot of crying, and the beardy parents telling us that she will be upset for a bit.
Kid has an attempted daily schedule, if Vulture is awake enough. Theoretically:
But a lot of times, that schedule gets thrown out of whack depending on if Vulture gets up on time. When she sleeps in, Kid is in her room from 7 PM to 1 PM. Sometimes Kid will make a fuss to make Vulture get up earlier than 1 PM, and Vulture will be grouchy because she “went to bed at four in the morning” because she either had “insomnia” (read: gaming or watching anime) or because Kid wouldn’t sleep. Or Vulture will be up to take care of Kid and make sure she is in a clean pull up and has eaten. Then she shuts her into her room and goes back to sleep. Sometimes if Kid is too much of a handful, Vulture will say, “It’s 12:45. That’s close enough to 1.” And put Kid in the room because that’s close enough to nap time.
Sometimes because Kid won’t go to sleep, she’ll still be up at 9 PM and that breaks her schedule too. A lot of times, it works out that OLB is the “fun” parent while he’s home, because he’s up at 4 AM to leave for work by 6 and doesn’t come home until between 4 or 5 PM. Then she spends time with him while he’s home.
There’s also a child lock on the inside of Kid’s bedroom door, those doorknob covers that you have to push and turn, so she can’t open the door and wander around unsupervised. I was originally the one who suggested the child lock, back when she was younger, and they didn’t have the secondary child gate they currently do now that’s stored in the garage. Since then, with her potty training and Vulture’s likewise awful sleep schedule, I’ve suggested more than once that they take the door handle blocker off and put up the second kiddy gate they have to block the living room and kitchen off, so she can get up if she needs to, but the child lock still remains. At most, she would have access to their room, since it doesn’t have a kiddy lock on it. Me and Z’s bedroom has a child lock on it, as well as the bathroom door. She could freely wander between her room and her parents’ room that way.
I hear Kid playing in her room by herself a lot, squealing and having fun and playing pretend. Or moving her furniture around. And no, the furniture is not secured to the wall, so she can move her bed around the room. I’ve also told OLB and Vulture they needed to make sure she can’t topple it and chain it to the wall but, yeah, that hasn’t been dealt with.
When Kid really needs attention, she will cry and wail. And I mean wail. The two beardy parents don’t have baby monitors or anything that can hear into her bedroom, so she has to wail loudly enough to be heard through the walls. Luckily, the house has thin walls. Because of her early bedtime, she’s often awake early in the morning. Sometimes Vulture will respond, sometimes Vulture won’t wake up until around noon.
Yes, that means Kid is by herself a lot.
Kid is a bubbly three-year-old. She loves it when Z and I give her attention, which admittingly isn’t as often as I would like to give her. With my own Depression™, I spend so much time fighting to just gather enough mental energy to be a productive human. Despite me wandering in a mental fog, Kid remains a bright spot in my day. I met her when she was a fresh baby bean just barely out of the hospital, and I immediately fell in love. Since then, I’ve seen her grow almost her whole life, except for when they were all in north Texas. She has blue eyes and brown hair that will curl on its own. She loves dinosaurs, Baby Shark, Octonauts, and occasionally whatever anime the parents are watching. Don’t ask me how many times I’ve heard the Baby Shark song. I don’t want it stuck in my head for another solid week.
She used to watch a lot of Ms. Rachel’s Songs For Little videos, because originally Vulture wanted Kid to learn sign language to help communicate. I’ve rarely seen Vulture attempt to upkeep the sign language lessons. She did at one point. I think after Kid started becoming more vocal, the idea was dropped. I have heard some of the familiar videos so often that even I learned the kid’s songs, but I guess that’s also part of the collateral when dealing with kid’s media.
Kid usually exists in a half-dressed state, usually just wearing a pull up and that’s it. Unfortunately, because Vulture is so hard on her tangles when she tries to brush her hair, Kid doesn’t like hair care and will fight being brushed. Her hair used to exist in a perpetual state of being matted with at least one major knot, until Vulture’s mom ended up giving her a bath and getting her to stay still enough to endure the brushing, even with the wailing of a protesting Kid going strong. Her hair was then cut to make it more manageable, and strangely, that fixed a lot of the matting problems.
Kid is let out of her room when Vulture wakes up, usually needing a diaper change. At three years old, Kid is not potty trained yet. Just from what I’ve heard from my bedroom, it sounds like OLB and Vulture are finally starting to step up on potty training, but it’s been an uphill fight. I know a few of my other parent friends have had an extremely hard time potty training their kid. I’m not a parent, so I don’t actually know how challenging it can be. I do know though that it shouldn’t sound like the toilet is some kind of punishment for peeing in her cloth panties that they’re trying to switch her to. Or, that they try to get her to sit on the toilet when she has no interest in it and she ends up throwing a tantrum. Unfortunately, without much context, that’s how some bathroom trips sound.
Kid wears pull-ups to bed and the cloth underwear during the day, or sometimes just pull-ups. They’re trying to teach her how to recognize when her body has the potty urge, which she still doesn’t quite get right now. She has literally peed on the tile floor through her cloth undies. Vulture messaged the house chat once saying, “Kid just lifted her leg while in the rolling chair and peed all over the floor.
You know. Like a dog.
With the potty-training trouble and Kid only sometimes in pull-ups that can contain her mess, Z and I don’t let her into our room as often as we’d like to, because she doesn’t recognize when she has to go. It sucks, because Kid adores spending time with us and our room has cool animals, like my retired psychiatric service dog and our three ferrets. She loves the ferrets. But if we spend time out in the living room with everyone, Z’s patience tends to have a shorter fuse because they can’t stand Vulture (that’s also another tale I have). We’re also stuck out in the general mess of the living room if we are out there with her. It’s either the general mess that toddlers make, spilled food, and general filth. The best times we’ve had spending time with Kid is just chilling in our room as she ooh’s and ahh’s over the ferrets or watches TV with us. Z and I quote SpongeBob line by line daily, and she has watched some of the show with us.
I feel awful about shutting Kid out so much, when I see the way Vulture interacts with her. On Vulture’s bad days (if you read the previous post, that’s almost every day), she acts like Kid is a chore. She will snap at Kid, act like Kid is choosing to act out of maliciousness and make “tired mom” jokes that sound like she just flat out doesn’t like Kid. When I had liquor in the fridge, Vulture would ask if she could take a shot because, “I need it. She’s trying me today.
Some choice quotes talking down about the kid:
I’m being hard on her because she’s not using her words. Like I know she can. She just doesn’t want to.” This was what Vulture said to me after Kid kept trying to get her attention and wouldn’t explain what she wanted. Kid was just making noises at her and getting frustrated. Vulture full on shouted, “WHAT!” at her, then turned to me to try and explain why she shouted.
This is the bad part about being a mom. She’s not letting me do anything right now.” This was said after Vulture cleaned her desk and was attempting to watch YouTube videos and play her Switch.
On her good days, Vulture will be that kind of smiling parent that does some art activities and engages with Kid in a way that’s more than just screaming. They color together. She offers Kid choices so Kid can have some control over what happens in her day, like, “Do you want bologna or fruit?” It has helped Kid become more vocal and even though she’s still speech delayed, she talks more and has a bigger vocabulary.
The house has a different atmosphere when OLB is home, compared to when Vulture is just watching Kid by herself. I’ve told OLB that I think Vulture is burned out. Her entire life is her disabilities and being a mom. She only has friends on Discord really, and OLB had to push her to start talking to them again just so she had someone to socialize with.
Old Doormat me pitied her at the beginning of our friendship. I tried being her friend. I tried to include her and Kid in a lot of things. My own mental health, my daily obligations, my gym schedule, and just me changing rapidly since 2020 altered my life, exhausted me, and left me unable to deal with Vulture talking a million miles a minute, info dumping about whatever she’s currently doing every single time I run into her. And as I shed my doormat self, I started seeing her clearly.
I told OLB once that if Vulture is truly burned out or if her health problems are causing that much trouble, Kid might need daycare or another caregiver to help. OLB is aware but can’t afford other care. He’s working for bottom of the barrel pay at a full-time job. Most days after work, he just wants to zone out to his own games in front of his computer but has to step in and parent both Vulture and Kid, because Vulture often needs help organizing through executive dysfunction to do something. Or, because she will call for his help.
There was one time where Kid climbed on top of her, and Vulture called for OLB – who was in the same room – to pull Kid off her. There are quite a few times where Vulture calls for OLB for help with Kid, and I’ve heard him say that he’s also busy too. One time he asked, “Why are you asking for my help when you’re closer?
Z has offered to look after Kid at times because they don’t mind Kid being in our room or just hanging out. She has hung out with us when I also have the mental energy and the room is clean enough to accommodate a toddler crawling on everything. The problem that we both see is that our stepping in isn’t a full solution. She can spend a few hours with us, but ultimately after, she goes right back to Vulture and OLB. Vulture is the one who acts like being a parent is a chore.
There are times that OLB has snapped at Vulture for the way she gets on to Kid, emphasizing, “She’s just a child.” Their parenting styles are like looking at two entirely different planets and trying to find similarities. OLB is very much into the gentle parenting side of Tik Tok. He talks about breaking generational trauma. He’s usually gentle with Kid, explaining why she’s not allowed to do things like stand on top of her highchair or why I’m too busy to play with her as I’m zooming around the house in and out repeatedly some days. He has talked her down from meltdowns and keeps his voice even to where she can’t bounce off him to amplify her tantrums. He spanks her, but as a last resort, and then also talks to her about why the punishment happened. She will wail through everything and likely isn’t fully listening, but ultimately, I see him trying to work with her. He very rarely loses his actual temper with her.
Vulture is the total opposite. She yells at Kid, spanks with no hesitation and doesn’t explain why. One of Kid’s favorite games to play is “Block the door” when I’m trying to get through the house. She will block my bedroom door, cling to me, then circle around me as Vulture or OLB tries to distract her or lure her away by asking “do you want chocolate” or some other treat. Sometimes Kid just likes to play ring-around-the-rosie around my legs, as her parents try to grab her. I try to make it fun and seem like I’m not mad at her, because I’m never actually mad at her for blocking my way. Usually, I’m just in the middle of some arbitrary task or running an errand or coming back from the gym with my one remaining brain cell barely hanging on for dear life. I try to engage with her and play it off as a game because she’s not actually doing anything wrong.
Vulture has lured her away with chocolate and treats, with offers of food, with trying to get her to pick a show to watch. If that fails, she will come and fetch Kid by hand. One time involved yanking her physically off me and spanking her on the bare bottom because Kid was happy playing a game instead of listening.
The bare bottom is a thing, too. Because Kid used to live in soiled diapers for much longer than she was supposed to, she had constant diaper rash that she had to see the doctor for sometimes. She also didn’t want OLB or Vulture to change her diapers and would scream when it was diaper change time. I don’t blame her. The diaper rash hurt, and Vulture wasn’t exactly gentle with changing. Kid bled sometimes with the changings. So now, sometimes Kid will be dressed like Donald Duck in only a top to air out her bottom. Or because now, with the cloth undies, she will pee straight through them, and they just let her air out after.
Kid always smells a bit like pee. So does her room. And her bedding. After I pointed out that her bedding straight out of the dryer smelled like urine, OLB went about cleaning the washing machine with a machine cleaner, and bought scent beads to help cut the smell, after I told him that a little vinegar in the wash load will cut the smells down. Now her bedding doesn’t smell so much like urine, but it’s still there.
Her bedroom frequently smells like a public bathroom. It always looks like her bedroom has been turned upside down, with toys everywhere, her bed pushed to the middle of the room, the mattress on the floor. Books she was given were shredded, even the cardboard ones. There was straight up garbage left in her room because she was given food to eat there that had wrappers. It usually takes Vulture a full day of cleaning to get the room organized when she had the energy to do it, but she usually sanitizes with just a baby wipe, if she does at all. Maybe a pet cleaner sometimes.
There was one time where I was letting the dogs outside and I stepped in a puddle on the tile floor. That was when I realized that it was a pee puddle and Kid’s cloth underwear was dripping. I asked Vulture to clean the puddle up. When she asked to use my steam mop, she didn’t clean the cloth pad after, so when I turned the mop on next, it smelled like hot, steamed urine. I had to clean the mop pad off myself and rinse the pee out of it. When Kid again peed in front of the TV in her cloth undies, I told OLB that if they’re going to use my steam mop to make sure that the mop pad is rinsed off or it will smell like pee the next time it’s used, but he said he was just going to use his mop and bucket. Thankfully.
Because of the diet that OLB and Vulture has, Kid also eats like them. She gets a lot of macaroni, a lot of random odds and ends like pieces of bread, baggies of cheerios, sometimes fruit and vegetables. Lots of chicken nuggets and frozen instant food. Occasionally, Kid will have an interest in vegetables she sees us cook with or that she’s never had. Like once she insisted that she wanted to eat canned peas, until she tasted them. She chewed on a lettuce leaf and put it down, then asked for another one because she wanted to eat something, and it looked tasty to her.
The two halves of the household make separate foods now and keep out of each other’s food, but sometimes Vulture will give Kid some of the food I cooked because Kid saw my spaghetti noodles in a bowl and insisted on having them by way of tantrum. Instead of asking me if it’s okay (which obviously, I’d say yes, Kid can have some), Vulture just gave her my food and then told me after. Maybe I’m just projecting my own frustration, but it feels like Vulture uses Kid as a shield sometimes, to get food. Unless I have a specific purpose for food like what I put in my meal prep containers, I wouldn’t say no to Kid.
Kid’s diet makes me worried for her as she grows up. OLB is big and tall, over 6 feet tall and over 300lbs. They aren’t an active family at all. Kid drinks soda when they get fast food. She eats as much processed food as Vulture. Right now, she’s growing like a weed and is tall and actually has some power in her tiny limbs, which is most noticeable when she climbs you like a ladder, but her parents are gamers that just sit around. Her own screen time is almost as lengthy as theirs is.
I worry about Kid, constantly. Z does too. We have theorized calling CPS, or trying to adopt her, or just getting her away from Vulture. We have thrown around ideas about talking to OLB and convincing him that Vulture isn’t a good person for Kid. A lot of it has stayed in theory because the anxious part of me is still afraid to make life-altering waves like that. I second-guess and gaslight myself into realizing how bad things are, but then telling myself, maybe I’m just blowing it out of proportion. Maybe it's just something they have to handle. Maybe it’s something a first-time parent needs to learn. Maybe Vulture just isn’t feeling good that day. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
It’s a leftover of the doormat I used to be, and I know that. The tiny fragment of anxiety that tells me I’m blowing things up into too big a deal. The tiny fragment that escaped a toxic marriage and just wants peace after arguing every single day. The side that hates confrontation.
Maybe I’m just a plain ol’ coward. I don’t know yet. I just know my patience is running thinner with every passing day.
I don’t think I could convince OLB to dump Vulture. From what I’ve seen on the surface, they’re not openly affectionate. Vulture complains all the time that OLB doesn’t give her any physical affection, and she (unfortunately) tells me when they’re intimate, which doesn’t sound often. They almost look like they could be friends that are co-parenting. She calls him her husband when they’re out in public, and OLB has stated that he doesn’t want anything to happen to her, because he doesn’t want a single parent. I assume at the very least that he does love her, even though he sounds exhausted all the time. Z and I wonder if maybe he feels trapped.
OLB is good at asking for help if he needs it, although he hates being a burden to others. He will speak up if Vulture needs a ride to a doctor’s office, and he forgot to leave the car seat at home. I’ve driven to his work to pick it up after he messaged me asking if I could. They ask his family to babysit Kid if they want to go out and just have a good date or see a movie together. They are clearly capable of asking for help.
This is just an acceptable standard for both, or at least that’s the way it seems to me. Sometimes, I don’t truly know if OLB is aware of what Vulture does while he’s at work. He didn’t know that she used his 11-year-old dog as a vacuum cleaner to clean up spilled table scraps until I pointed it out and then he pieced together why his dog wasn’t losing weight on a reduced kibble diet. Sometimes I have pointed out things to him that he might not notice in the house chat.
I started keeping a log in Google Docs about things I notice, and Z and I talk about it in discord, so it’s not heard by ears that are too close to our bedroom. The log started helping me see that I’m not just blowing out of proportion and that in turn helped me come here to reddit. As a former doormat in recovery, I still have to tell myself that it’s okay to realize that something is wrong, and that I may need help getting my voice to speak up.
I haven’t worked since 2017, when my mental health took a sharp nosedive. Z is currently looking for work. Both of us are home all day exposed to Vulture and how she treats Kid. With my own daily tasks, errands, struggling with mental health, there’s still a side of me that berates me that I need to be taking care of Kid. Getting her up, making sure she eats. Pestering Vulture to get up. This is also where I tangle with the former doormat that still lives in me, because one, I don’t want to enable Vulture to get even worse. With someone taking the burden off of her, that gives her more free time to just sit back and game. It isn’t my job to make sure that Vulture is a good parent, yet somehow, I feel like it’s also my fault that she’s as bad as she is while I sit by the wayside and just talk about her behind her back. There are times where I have pestered OLB through discord about Kid crying, or how Kid is trying to beat the door down, or asking if Vulture is up for the day because I haven’t seen her up at three in the afternoon.
I started speaking up when I noticed something that’s off. I call this the “cheese incident.” We had a block of cheese that was cut in the wrapper and not in anything else, so the exposed end got all hard and inedible. I cut it off and threw it away. Vulture made her way into the kitchen because Kid saw me cutting cheese and wanted some.
Vulture: Who threw away that cheese?
Me: Yeah, it’s got that hard bit
Vulture: So? I know someone who will eat it.
(She calls Kid over)
Me: But it was in the trash.
Vulture: It’s okay, I cut off the part that was touching the trash.
Me: Dude, that’s fucked up.
Vulture: (hesitating now) Should I not?
Me: That’s probably going to make her sick again.
(Kid has been sick back-to-back at this point)
Vulture: Okay, then I won’t.
(To this day, I don’t know if she threw the cheese away or ate it herself, and I’m afraid to ask)
That was the point where I started pointing out that what she’s doing is problematic. It’s a slow process, but it’s helped me put the doormat side of me away again. I’ve explained to Vulture that Kid isn’t crying to be malicious, she just can’t express what she wants. Especially with Kid’s speech delay! Kid gets frustrated fast when adults don’t understand her, and the wailing begins. There’s no maliciousness behind it, just frustration. Or how Kid doesn’t like being told “no” because she doesn’t always understand why. Strangely, every time I call something out, she doesn’t really have much of a fight against it.
But why am I having to say it in the first place?
There’s little things that just rub me the wrong way in how they interact. Sometimes Vulture will call Kid over in the same way you’d call a dog. Repeatedly. Sometimes Vulture, in a state of migraine or other illness-related grouchiness will scream at her “Leave me alone!” and OLB will have to fetch Kid. One time, Z told me that Vulture outright mocked her crying by making her own crying noise.
What’s awful to watch in person is that when Vulture’s mom or siblings are over, Vulture is suddenly a doting mom who isn’t perpetually exhausted or loudly complaining about how her “everything” hurts. She talks in an overly sweet voice to Kid. It unsettles me with how two-faced it seems. OLB, Vulture, and Kid go have dinner with OLB’s family every Sunday evening, and I can’t help but wonder how two-faced she is there, as well. Some of OLB’s family doesn’t like Vulture to begin with.
Slowly, I am losing patience at how Vulture behaves, especially with the Kid. I had to un-gaslight myself, start logging her behavior, and talk to other people to really see it for what it was. I told multiple friends about it and we all generally have the same consensus that Vulture is just an unfit parent. If her chronic illnesses are truly interfering with her life that much, she shouldn’t be the majority caregiver through the day. But it’s not like OLB would be able to work from home or be the stay-at-home parent. In a perfect world, I would be able to help more as well, but I’m barely the “fun” aunt. I’m barely equipped to help care for a three-year-old. Hell, most days I’m barely an actual person.
Kid deserves better.
Bottom line, Kid deserves better than what this house can give. I am upset with myself over my lack of action, but the logs have only been growing bigger. Every day, the doormat dies a little more.
Vulture herself though, will likely always be a side show. One thing that Z pointed out to me was that, as the doormat I used to be, I would give everything to help someone even when I was mentally exhausted. I enmeshed myself too much into the lives of my friends because I loved making them happy and making their lives easier. It’s gotten me into some awkward territory with Vulture, because some things were interpreted as more than friendship.
You ready to cringe more? Because the next part is going to deal with polyamory, the desire for open relationships, and the main reason why Z despises her – and that’s putting it mildly.
Take a moment to un-cringe yourself. It ain’t over yet.
submitted by EzekialX to ReddXReads [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 05:47 GrantTheGreat15 Long Distance Matchmaking Working?

In a large group (50+ members) of like-minded individuals and one of the girls and I have sort of hit it off. I dm'd her and talked for a little bit (30ish messages) just kind've learning about each other. Once it reached a stopping point, i left it on open; but we still talk in the large group.
Here's the thing, she's 26 and i'm 22. She's not the type to go younger (she had stated in the group). Here's another part, she's across the country (USA).
I want to make my intentions clear, but at the same time make it known that I recognize the absurdity of the situation.
Is it a bad idea to basically reach out again and make it known i'm interested in her seriously. She's a very traditional woman (in terms of relationships).
What is the best way to go about this if i want to make it known I'm interested to gauge her interest level? I have nothing to lose really, but there are better ways to go about it than other ways.
submitted by GrantTheGreat15 to Advice [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 05:47 BornChef3439 Employer won't respond to my texts.

I work part time for an employer who hasn't responded to my texts in days.My job mostly involves shooting English videos for an ESL company. Since its part time I don't expect to be working everyday however I have sent them 4 texts over the last few days asking when they expect me to be availible. I have emphasized the importance of needing to at least know if they expect us to shoot this week but I have gotten nothing.
Getting really annoyed and I feel like this is really unproffesional. Am I overeacting? How should I respond?
submitted by BornChef3439 to work [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 05:47 Nicmanedigital technical experience

Hello all, I just completed an undergraduate degree in history at the university of Vermont. I am doing a fellowship at a historic site this summer and I am very interested in the field of HP. Im looking at masters programs in HP that will offer legal and practical education on the subject. Before that I plan to take a year off from school and was wondering what suggestions people might have about useful ways to spend that time in between. Do folks recommend trying to get technical experience by working for a contractor that does historic restoration? What about an internship related to the field? (e.g. archives or museum work)
P.S. I will be in the NYC area and would love to know if there are any HP opportunities specific to that city that people could point me towards. General advice for recent graduate trying to get more involved in the field HP would also be greatly appreciated. Thanks in advance for any feedback.
submitted by Nicmanedigital to HistoricPreservation [link] [comments]