College station milledgeville photos

I’ve been talking to this guy for about 7-8 months. We’re both graduating college and found out 2-3 weeks ago we’re moving to the same state. We both went out the country for spring break. His friend group intertwines with his exes so she was on his trip. I know she’s been trying to get back with him since things ended but I trust him and assumed nothing would happen or change on the trip. I saw his exes friends post photos of them coupled up and screenshotted one and sent it to him with the caption “bet.” This is the first time I’ve ever texted him and he didn’t respond.
UNTIL today. I sent this text one week ago and he messaged me today saying “Laurel idk what to say :/ we were just on spring break together I didn’t plan on any of that I’m so sorry.” I didn’t respond.
I was upset because we’ve been moving towards a relationship. We discuss our exclusivity and often tells me I’m the only girl he is interested and entertaining. We were also supposed to take a trip together in 2 weeks (which I’m obviously not going on now). It’s annoying the second he was without me, he could fold and get with his ex. I also would’ve never found out if it wasn’t for her friends photos.
As of right now, I’m not mad because this isn’t worth my energy. I am just done with my relations with him. I can forgive, but will not be returning to any relations with him. I’m here seeking advice on what we think he’s feeling? Do we think he feels bad and thinks he messed up? Do we think he feels like he fumbled? Let me know. Appreciate you all for reading.

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A rule breaking truck driver takes a forbidden detour.
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Don't Feed the Pumpkins
I'm typing this as a record of what has happened to me. If someone should find me out here, where ever here is, this is what happened and who is responsible. Also, out of the dozens of vehicles bogged down in this field, mine is the Blue Jay 2013 Freight Liner. If I should die and it is recoverable, it should go to my son, John Grainger in Antioch, Illinois.
I left Litchfield Illinois around 2pm on Halloween with a last-minute load of pumpkins destined for the Antioch Walmart. Despite the fact I was once that told Illinois is the #1 pumpkin producer in the country the itself state appears to be in the midst of a shortage. I was due in about 8pm, but I was trying get in by 6pm and after unloading, I was going to visit my wife Carly and my son for Halloween. It was going to be the first Halloween in my son's life that I was going to be there for trick o treating. My wife was making a big deal out of it and John was 10 now, so, she said he would be “scarred with disappointment” if I didn't show now. So, I probably should have gotten better sleep the night before and sue me, I was gear jamming and popping go-pills like popcorn. Don't look down on me, don't be fooled, this is just the nature of the trucking industry. Everyone does it and I'm not afraid to tell it like it is.
Just after Normal on 39 I hit a wall of traffic. I could hear on the CB that there is a hazmat incident up ahead and they require special teams to clear it off. I, like the other truckers, get to gabbing on the radio, looking for shortcuts. To my surprise, after scrutinizing this route several times before, I was informed about a “gutshot” shortcut just ahead that could get in me into my destination at least an hour earlier, even with the fact I had sat in the backup for at least 45 minutes at this point. A second comrade in gears piped in and stated that the shortcut was closed. The first driver contradicted him and stated, he had used it two weeks ago, it was wide open country land you could go 70 the whole way, and the only town along the way had burned down in an industrial accident 30 years ago. The second trucker chimed in again. He said it was closed for tonight and only tonight and not to use it. I disregarded the second trucker, exited the interstate and followed the directions of the first trucker.
Well, Carly, you always said it would be this way. You always said, I needed to learn how to follow directions to not cut so many damn corners all the time. You always told me didn't put in the work, and the funny thing is, for the first time, on this drive, get there, I did. Sure, I cut all the corners, but I wanted to to put in the work. But you're right, I never put a second of effort in, and if this is how it ends, I suppose you're right, I never will. But I guess, one way or another, you're getting what you've wanted, what you text me, what you don't tell me about, and what I didn't care about. I was coming home for him and damn it, I know it won't hold up in court but I want my boy to get the damn truck!
Anyway, I found the road, 2 lanes clear to the sky, surrounded by corn and then pumpkin fields forever. My straight shot, I pushed 80 the whole way flying on cracked asphalt, diesel, and go-pills. Ahead, there were barricades and I applied the brakes and barely stopped in time. I got out and saw they were chained up with a padlock to concrete posts in the ground. In theory, I could blast through them but I would sustain serious damage. The ground was a bit wet so I didn't think I could cross the ditch and field and not get stuck either. The barricades were not official in the least. They had a sign on them made out of it mailbox stick-on letters which said: “Do Not Feed The Pumpkins”. As far as I could see from my cab and binoculars, there was absolutely nothing wrong with the damn road. I said hell and I knew it would take hours to reverse course and get back in time – in time to even unload much less make it in time to go trick o treating.
And I said it wasn't worth it. I didn't bother to call. I'd just show up now. Because it wasn't my fault. So I started back, turning around with great difficulty. I traveled back 2 miles and saw small signs for a rest area. I must have missed it the first time, too deep into the zone I suppose now. I needed to pee and probably eat a bit before starting a roundabout way back, so I stopped. It was a little old 2 story joint with a small dinner on the 1st level and looked like 4 or 5 small motel rooms on top and oddly an outhouse for a restroom. I want to emphasize the outhouse because that is how you'll find and catch this guy, the guy who did this to me. It was Bill Shaw of Shaw's Shack, who did this to me. It had a sign with the building, it too was made of stick-on letters and vaguely resembled a huge ransom note. It read “Yes! We are open! We are the only rest area for 67 miles and 1 of 2 “tombstones” for the late great town of Pumpkin Grove Illinois – the former pumpkin capital of Illinois. Ask Your host, Bill Shaw about the Pumpkin-beef-bean stew!
The parking lot had three vehicles in it, not including my own, a silver Prius, a grand cheeroke with wood panels, and an older model chevy pick up truck. I went inside. The dinner was small, set in a rustic décor with old license plates nailed to the walls. The cafe had eight counter seats and two smaller tables near the two windows. There were two witnesses to what happened that night, to what Bill Shaw did – at least partial witnesses. There was the older man with stringy white hair and octagonal glasses – unfortunately, I didn't get his name. There was that irritating millennial – All I remember is the metal crap in her ears and lip. Hell, if I die and John starts ever pulling that crap, I'll come back and haunt the crap out of both of you. Anyway, now, I wish I could remember their names or something else about them to put here. I didn't care about either one of them enough to remember.
I guess that goes for Shaw too. He was a bit taller as sometimes I couldn't see his face while sitting at the counter because of the low lights in the ceiling blocking his face. He had gray hair. Hell. That's it. Anyway, the old man said he was part of a historical society, said he spent the better part of his past two years tracking down anyone or anything about Pumpkin Grove. The college student – of course – it was college student said she was from the school newspaper, looking for a spooky story. When she asked me where I was from, I didn't respond.
Shaw came from the kitchen with two big bowls of the famous Pumpkin-beef-bean stew for first two. He seemed taken back by my presence for a bit before saying “howdy” and trying to get real friendly with me. He asked what media I was from. I told him I wasn't from no media and I was trying to get through the barricade up ahead. Neither of the other two seemed to know about the barricade. Shaw said he didn't know anything about it either. I was suspicious of him then because of the lettering on the signs. But I didn't push it. I wanted to eat and he said my choice was the stew or stew. So the stew seemed fine. He said he wished he had more time to chat with me but he promised to tell the story of Pumpkin Grove to the two others but I was welcome to listen and ask questions. I didn't say it but I couldn't care less, I was going no where fast and I needed to eat.
He started off by saying he and his wife are among a handful of survivors of the fire that consumed the town of Pumpkin Grove some 30 years ago on Halloween night. Then his story descended into a cross between a rambling fading nightmare and a ghost story. He said, without hesitation, fear of consequence or remorse that he was accessory to a murder in his childhood. Specifically, some 40 years ago, again on Halloween, he was friends with a small group of young men including one named Donnie, who was a little slow and had a slightly misshaped head. He was picked on a lot by the Gerst Brothers, notorious town bullies and teenage thugs of a bad seed thanks to their neglectful alcoholic single father. Long story short, he said, the Gerst Brothers lured Donnie, himself and another 2 boys out to a pumpkin field where they gave back Donnie's missing dog. Apparently they kidnapped the dog and wrapped every inch of it in duct tape a few days ago. They watched us try to peel and pull the duct tape off while the weakened, hungry, and thirsty dog whimpered away its last in the field. Unbeknownst to any of us, Donnie had a pocket knife and he lost it as the Gerst Brothers cackled around him and the dead dog. He leaped up as they laughed and sliced the vein on their necks. One of the Brothers died quickly while Donnie and the two others fought the other to death. Shaw said he just stood there, covered in arterial blood splatters, watching Donnie and the others finish off the Gersts.
Much of the town was shockingly grateful to hear the Gerst Brothers were dead and everyone was all too happy to sweep it under the rug rather than have 4 of their sons incarcerated for decades when they were needed to help with the town's bread and butter – the Pumpkins. So, they buried the Gerst Brothers in that field and grew pumpkins on their corpses and no one really talked about it. The town paid off their father, who was too inebriated most of the time to care and he gleefully drank himself to death on the payoff only about a year later.
I didn't have much of a reaction to the story. The historian on the other hand, was hesitant to stay and keep writing and he made a brief protest concerning whether or not the story was true and whether or not he could legally listen to it. Shaw said it was both true and legal. After all, there was nothing left of the town and the remains were long gone and he himself, would not bare witness to himself. The college student's dumb metal encrusted mouth was agape in a mix of horror and disbelief.
I was waiting, patiently, might I add, for my stew. Shaw promised it would be up soon. He continued the story, stating that the fields produced abnormally well afterwards and 10 years later he was visiting his parents with his girlfriend for the annual Pumpkin fest. It was just that the pumpkins weren't just more numerous and larger, or more resistant to the rains and the fungus, they were alive and nothing could keep them tame or from spreading wider and wider. And everyone thought this was great at first, the profits were never higher but then weird things began to happen. Equipment went missing and two farm hands were crushed by a wagon full of pumpkins tipping over onto them in what was at first called a freak accident. Shaw recounted how he took his girlfriend through one of the patches and the vines seem to wind and grapple her legs, of course, Shaw's folks passed it off as her not being used to the mud but Shaw said he knew better.
Shaw continued to describe that over the days that led up to Halloween, the Jack O Lanterns on people's porches and elsewhere began to do some unusual things. Things like seemingly move by themselves from dusk to dawn, changing the carvings of their faces slightly, or appearing to “jump” off a table onto the porch without damage or apparent cause. On the morning of Halloween, Shaw said that he found his black cat, Lucky, incinerated in front of a jack o lantern as if it had breathed fire on to it from its mouth though they had long ago blown out the candle inside.
After the cat burning, the elderly man from the historical society tossed his spoon in his bowl. Shaw asked if something was wrong. The elderly man got up to leave and he said it tasted like bitter cold bull and his story was bull and thanked him for nothing. After checking the remaining contents of his bowl of stew, Shaw chased him out of the door, to his car, asking him what direction he planned to go home. When he peeled out of the parking lot he was headed southwest. Shaw came back in and threw up his hands.
I tell nothing but the truth, he said, most people can't handle it. Part of me wanted to go, but I was cozy there, it was warm and the story, while bull to me at the time, was entertaining enough. The SJW sitting down the way looked exhausted, barely keeping her eyes open as Shaw finished out the story. In short he said, Donnie approached him at dusk on Halloween while he and his family sat on the porch eagerly awaiting trick o treaters. Donnie said the Gerst Brothers are alive in the pumpkins and that they planned to burn the whole town down tonight. Donnie said, he had to tell Shaw because Shaw wasn't supposed to die, he was supposed to watch.
I rudely stopped him and demanded more stew. I was still hungry and the stew was somehow unsatisfying. When he returned, he finished the story, stating the town was suddenly engulfed in flames and their house in particular with Donnie on the porch, flash burned to the ground like napalm from an exploding pumpkin. He escaped with his family and his future wife in the pick up truck sitting outside now.
The college student said she felt like she needed to lay down, that she didn't think she could make back to the campus to the north. Shaw attended to getting her one of the rooms upstairs. I stayed down stairs and went to the back for more stew. I rubbed my eyes intensely and felt as if I too should stay for the night. But in the tug of war between fatigue and dexrine, the dexrine was slowly coming out ahead.
Next to the stew was a cutting board and a knife and on it was some bluish whitish powder which I found peculiar. On floor was a bottle of medication. It was Insomnex – a sleeping pill I use when I'm coming off of dexrine. The stew was dosed.
I ran to my truck and pulled out my dexrine and my revolver. As I climbed out of the driver's side, I could see Shaw running out of the dinner with a huge kitchen knife. I ducked under the trailer and back out on his side and pointed the gun at him.
What the hell I asked as I slowly advanced on him with my snub nose pointed at his head. He dropped the knife. He said, I just wanted to puncture your tires, I had to do something to stop you. I know you want to go north and I know you might be crazy enough and your truck tough enough to smash the barricades but I can't let you. I can't let anyone else go through, he said hysterically. I asked the dumb question about whether or not he set the barricades and just as I previously suspected, he did.
I'm supposed to watch, Shaw cried. No one can get through tonight, no can be allowed to. I told him to shut up as he rambled on about how he and his wife took it upon themselves to ward off travelers on Halloween Night. Its a cursed road tonight, he said, we're cursed to stay here and this is the best we can do to stop it from spreading. Its been calling us for 30 years, he went on, we tried to walk away but it kept on spreading, the pumpkins, he said gritting his teeth in anguish.
Maybe it was the dexrine and the insomnex working together, hell maybe it was the stew by itself but I just started to laugh as I guided Shaw back into the dinner and proceeded to duct tape him down to the dinner chair to make sure he could not cause anymore harm to anyone else until the police arrived. I had some cash on me, I wasn't a criminal, I wasn't going to make it seem like I tied him up and dinned and dashed, I was in the right, I was doing the lawful thing. So I left him exact change, no tip for the food. In the process of making change for myself, I found the padlock key in the cash drawer, I was certain of it at the time as I waved it in front of Shaw and he gasped and thrashed behind the duct tape the hardest.
I got into my truck and gunned it north towards the barricades, which, as I suspected was easily opened with the key I confiscated from Shaw. I got on my CB and started making emergency calls to the State Police, I gave them my name, the location of the diner, and Shaw's name. I was in the middle of nowhere so it didn't surprise me when I got static and no acknowledgment. I had no bars on my cell phone either but that is typical of central Illinois.
I was going along about 70. The sun was almost down but I hadn't seen the moon yet. I turned on the radio and found a classic rock station. The song was Born on the Bayou from CCR. The opening riff perked me up and reassured me that I had done everything all well and all good. If things held, there was a chance, I could get my freight unloaded and see John tonight. I was eagerly tapping the steering wheel waiting to bust into “When I was just a little boy...” But just as the lyrics should have entered, the radio station seemed to have accidentally reset the song, it just started over.
The sun faded away entirely and yet no moon came up. The sky was so dark but I didn't remember seeing any clouds or expecting any for that matter. The song continued restarting itself, the same opening again and again. I flipped through the other stations and all of them had it playing. Eventually, the digital clock on my dash began to spin wildly like the LCD numbers on the tuner while in scan mode. The truck buffeted and shook side to side despite my headlights showing no cause for it.
To my shock, ahead, in the distance was single traffic light. It was went from green, to yellow, and red, as any other traffic light but there were no lights or towns on this road. I slowed to 40, then 35 then to 30 as I entered an unnamed densely populated area with small buildings, stores, and houses and one traffic light. I came to a stop at the light and I looked around, locked my doors and tried to glimpse where I was. Where ever I was, I felt, I felt like I shouldn't be there. There were dim orange lights in some of the rooms of the houses at the edge of the intersection.
I looked up at one of the windows and I saw a figure with large head in the window. I couldn't believe my eyes at least not until the figure turned to face outward. It was a jack o lantern, a classic one with a black glow where the eyes, nose, and mouth sat. It was held up right by a thin vine structure that seemed to grow and stretch as it stuck its head out of the window and let out a barely audible shrill whistle and stared directly at me.
I gunned it. I blew the red light as the town seemed to collapse into nothing by dark green swelling pumpkin vine and a sea of glowing jack o lanterns in my side view mirrors. I hit the radio off because all I could hear on it was that whistle filtering through. I drove and the mass of jack o lanterns grew in the mirrors. I glimpsed the left and right windows and the plains were glowing black with more pumpkins rolling and creeping towards the road.
The road began to warp and bend as I started to red line my truck. The buffeting side to side became difficult to control as the engine groaned. I couldn't explain how the road began to shift nor how the moon, blood orange began to circle around me from horizon to horizon. Aside from the moon, I thought I was making progress as I couldn't see the vines nor the hundreds of blacklight pumpkins swirling after me.
The moon slowed and dipped down and I started climbing a hill. As I crested, the moon filled the entire windshield and more. It spun and then settled on a black light pumpkin face and bore down on the cab.
I don't know what happened next but I woke up in my cab. The was engine smoking. All I could see was mud and putrid rotten pumpkins as far as I could see. My Blue Jay was sunk up to the cab down in mud, vines and rot. It wasn't going anywhere in it without some serious assistance. To my right and left I saw dozens of other vehicles, most of them at least ten years old, also up their doors in mud and rot. Swarms of flies were visible all around in the boiling midday sun. I'm not really sure how long it has been or what time it really was because the clock on my phone is broken and simply reads as 99:99. I don't know what day it is. I have no cell signal and no radio.
Carly, I need to be honest with you. I cheated on you. Maybe a dozen times. I did it before I thought, before I knew you were doing it to me. I can't live by the rules of trucking, or marriage or anything. It is the road and you command it and that is the only rule. But now, I'm worried I've broken my last rule. I have no food and no water. There is no road here. There is only rule of a blazing sun with jack o lantern face that never sets. I fear that in time, unless I find help or help finds me, I will be feeding the pumpkins.
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Theo Plesha

I've been thinking about Bob Ross's place in conversation of art and art history.
As far as I can sense, Bob Ross is deeply well liked among most people (myself included) for his kindheartedness and gentle voice as he teaches his painting techniques on his PBS show, The Joy of Painting. I've also gotten the sense that there's a large part of the (fine) art community that completely disregards him as an artist, his work, or his techniques.
I've heard arguments that he is more of a teacher than an artist (which, some college professors might slightly also feel the sting of that statement), but I personally think his artistic ability shouldn't be understated.
He was stationed in Alaska when he was in the military and fell in love with the beauty of nature and the mountains he saw. To capture this beauty he was moved to paint them and, by all accounts, taught himself how to oil paint. By necessity, he learned to paint quickly he said, as he wanted to complete paintings during his short lunch break.
I've heard his art categorized as 'Kitchy' or 'motel art', which is fair. Landscapes a lot of time fall into that realm, and most don't hold any deaper meaning beyond "oh, pretty scenery". But, I feel like the artist's passion should be taken into account. He wasn't so much painting landscapes because they were the art he liked, categorically. He painted landscapes because of the joy he found in nature and he wanted to capture that joy in both his painting and the process of painting. As you watch him paint any piece, he's quite literally beaming with describing mountains, clouds, trees, etc. I've seen art in museums that are modern and/or abstract art that half of the relevance of the work was the emotion the artist had while making it or the emotion they put into it. Bob Ross has a similar way of putting emotion into his art to convey feelings, it's just that it is put into landscapes. Plus, landscape painting are plentiful in museums. In fact, there was a time where still life's were a big subject of paintings in Art History, a subject of which I completely find little to no excitement in.
Another criticism I have heard was how some serious painters don't think Bob Ross's technique is all that great or that nothing of artistic importance can be gleaned from his videos. But, I humbly disagree with such statements. By all accounts, he developed his own style, which is more painting than drawing, which is a good thing, in my opinion, when it comes to painting.
His techniques actually show a somewhat deep understanding of form, visualization, spacing, lighting, and color. For example: it is not always the best idea to paint/draw EXACTLY what the eye is seeing. Sometimes you have to lie about lighting, etc to make it look correct visually. Bob Ross frequently did this. He would, more often than not, know where the trees would look best, the height of the tree that would best compositionally, where the peaks of the mountains looked best at, where the highlighted ridges of the mountains should cut, etc. And when he did a 'happy accident's, he was able to reimagine and bring that mistake back into the composition.
His control of the medium should be recognized to. He was great at mixing his paints to bring out the correct colors he was looking for (and quickly, on the spot during his shows). He also had great control of his tools, being able to paint with a brush and pallette knife, achieving good results. He knew how to use the pallette knife to make a mountain side or cabin and the brush to make trees by dabbing his brush and pond reflections of those trees with just a couple strokes. Some elements of his techniques could fall under Impressionism.
And, one of his most important contributions is his show. Through his show, his easy to comprehend teaching style and his calm instructions, he introduced many people to art. Art can feel snobby and pretentious sometimes, and a lot of people see the art community as that, as well as some art as brooding/angst/angry or very high class, pious, and sophisticated. Bob Ross brought the process of making art (and oil paintings no less, one of the more historically high class mediums) to the masses, showing people that painting can be fun and joyous and that anyone can do it. Sure, not everyone will make art that is museum quality, but I don't believe that's the purpose of art, and it never was. Art is an expression of the artist. And even if some folks out there are painting some mountains and happy little trees and expressing themselves through art and enjoying themselves while doing it, than that's plenty good enough.

The SD Reader's "Picks of the week"
Also: "The SD Readers list of "Fun Things to Do"
As well as, the "Best of List"
If you're visiting on certain dates You can plug in your dates at the San Diego Reader and see what pops for events that might be of interest to your family.
Another "cheap or free" page from the local news station
For those that are thinking of going down to Tijuana Mexico
A list of 69 things to do in Tijuana
Thank You, u/Matingas for this link <_ Brother Moderator of Tijuana :)
Of course, there's the regular weekly stuff:
Saturday's u/ thedaymayne organizes a semi-regularly about a flag football game Saturday at 11a at Jefferson Elementary (turf field). There's a solid core of 6-8 people and were always looking for new people to join. No ones D-1 athletes and we don't allow blocking to keep it clean and injury free. PM for more info.
u/lightwolv Suggests:
https://www.meetup.com/Casual-Socce Heads up for soccer players. We run a free meet-up every Tuesday and Thursday from 5 - 7. It's outdoor with big goals, cones and co-ed. If you wanna get outside and active, sign up. All skil All skill levels welcome, for those who played in college and stuff, it's competitive and it's a good work out.
Every Sunday at 2pm-3pm, free organ concert at Spreckles Organ Pavilion in Balboa Park.
Every Sunday Farmers Market at the Hillcrest DMV
Free yoga classes All around San Diego (Coastal) :
A good list of classes all over the city, Solana Beach
Sunset Cliffs, USS Midway Museum
Yoga on the Bay Every Saturday 10:30 am
There's a Sunday live video streaming of the classes in PB 10-11:30 am
u/YmcaAdultSports suggests: If you are interested in joining an Adult Sports League, come check out what the Dan McKinney Family YMCA has to offer (La Jolla)
IF there's something that you think is important or needs to have tickets purchased in advance... please post in the comments. IF there's a link that's needed, please try to not make it part of some text but the full URL string So I can just copy and paste it. (It'll make things easier) I'll try to retain these in the following week until the date of the event.
Please don't post events that are several months in advance. Try to limit it to 30 days or so - unless there's a real need for advance notice well in advance for ticket purchases.
Stuff from Last Weeks post: N/A
u/SD_TMI has suggested the following events
Monthly Yoga class at the South Embarcadero Rady Shell
The MsMargo activity section (welcome back!)
Free Guitar-Based Classic Rock Jam
Mondays, 6:50 pm-9:00 pm Our Savior's Lutheran Church 4011 Ohio Street San Diego, 92104 Age Limit: 18+ All levels welcome. Bring your own guitar, mandolin, flute, etc. or just sing along. Song chords and words are displayed via projector to a large screen. No practice required.
Gilbert Castellanos Presents: Young Lions And The Wednesday Jam Session - FREE!
Wednesdays
Panama 66 restaurant, Balboa Park
"Every Wednesday Panama 66 at The San Diego Museum of Art comes to life with the sounds of jazz. San Diego jazz hero Gilbert Castellanos showcases young music prodigies with The Young Lions Series (7:00–7:50 p.m.) followed by the Wednesday Jazz Jam (8:00–10:30 p.m.) that transforms the James S. Copley Auditorium into a swinging speak-easy. Order a craft cocktail or draft beer, take in the view of the Museum’s Sculpture Court and Garden, and enjoy an evening of music from San Diego’s finest jazz musicians.
Visit the Panama 66 Instagram page for updates on performances, closures, and schedule changes.
FREE event. Drinks and food available for purchase."
https://www.panama66.com/livemusic
IF there's something you think others will want to be know about please include it in the comments, reoccurring events can be added to the weekly post.

Urban planning is an interest of mine, and perhaps the number one area where I think China could do better. The dominant design philosophy of Chinese cities seems to run counter to what are considered best practices by most urban planners, both Chinese and foreign. For those unaware, new developments in Chinese cities often follow a "super block" layout, with large, sometimes gated communities of slender high-rise buildings and greenspace, plazas, and courtyards, separated by large arterial roads. It seems to be a fusion of traditional Chinese design philosophies and Le Corbusier's radiant city and towers-in-the-park. If you ignore the liberal slant, this is a pretty good overview.
There are benefits of the layout, for sure. The main benefit is the sheer speed at which they can be built. The city simply hands large parcels of land to developers, who plop down some copy-paste towers while a grid of roads is built around. They are also usually closed to car traffic, which allows for easy walking and reduces noise, and often (but not always) there are shops and restaurants in the complexes which means you don't have to travel far for daily needs.
But there are major drawbacks as well. The self-contained nature means that non-residents do not get to enjoy the amenities within or walk through the complexes, and creates a less vibrant street life. The arterial roads surrounding the complexes are extremely wide, unpleasant to cross, and are often congested. Cities, especially near the peripheries, feel more like disjointed villages than a cohesive whole.
From what I understand, the central government recognizes the issues, and released some guidlines recommending more open, integrated, and walkable designs, but they received pushback from local governments, private citizens, and developers, who are largely set in their ways. In particular, citizens value privacy over openness, and natural sunlight and space for cars over density. As such, the guidelines are basically unenforced.
I think China could learn a lot from other countries in this regard. Chinese cities are way better than anything in countries like the US, Canada, and Australia, but that's an extremely low bar. Cities like Istanbul, Tokyo, Amsterdam, and Helsinki are routinely praised by urban planners for their high modal share of walking, cycling, and transit, vibrant street life, and high yet manageable density. In contrast, some typical Chinese streets might look more like this or this. Do Chinese people really strongly prefer the latter? Imagine the design philosophies of the former combined with China's prowess in construction, public transit, and technology - they would probably be the best cities in the world.
And it's not like China doesn't have amazing neighborhoods, either, like these areas in Shenzhen, Beijing, Shanghai, and Xi'an. But these tend to be specific shopping, commercial, and/or tourism districts, not where most people actually live and work, or they're old areas that are due for redevelopment. In contrast, in a city like Tokyo, unless you're way out in the outskirts, you can expect to step outside your door and be greeted by shops, restaurants, vibrant street life, feel connected to the city as a whole, and be only a short walk to the nearest metro station. Again, not that China doesn't have those things either, but you can expect more of a trek, especially in more spread out cities like Beijing.
Is there any hope of things changing? I've seen some new developments that look really good, such as this area in Shanghai, but it seems like for every development like that, there are 50 that looks more like this. If you ask me, China should redevelop and expand areas like this with modern building materials, wider sidewalks, street cars, underground parking, greenery, etc. rather than build places like this
I'd love to read some sources on what's happening on the ground, particularly with the Xiong'an new area and the megacity drive. I have no trouble finding academic articles from Chinese urban planners, but it seems like there's a large disconnect between what they recommend and what's actually implemented, which is disappointing for a society that's as meritocratic and technocratic as China. I'd also love to hear your thoughts, especially from people who live in China.

"I wanted to talk to you about what we found on the station, your hunch was right, it was the creed that attacked it" Jake says furrowing his brow.
"How recent was the attack?" Houston asks.
"Very, most of the station still had power, they probably just got done looting it or are coming back to finish the job" Jake responds.
"They must be getting bolder, the creed would have never tried attacking this far in before." Houston says, his face hardening, "thought I saw enough of those bolt brains when I left the military. The fact this particular pocket of Creed is strong enough to launch an assault on a small station is a big concern. I thought most of the forces that could do any real damage got destroyed in the AI war."
"Well, we can talk about this later. Welcome to the armory, if we're going on any dangerous excursions or the ship gets boarded this is where you can find weapons to defend yourself. It also houses my collection" Jake says gesturing to the wall filled with firearms of various calibers. "These ones here are my favorites." Jake motions to a section of the wall with antique looking firearms.
"So, who is that in the photo?" L3-0N says pointing at the back wall.
"That is the greatest man in the galaxy; John Moses Browning, the father of modern firearms" Jake says with a grin. "I have some of his creations in my collection: the Auto 5, BAR, and of course my sidearm; the M1911." Pointing out each weapon as he says its name. "We, of course, have more modern armaments for you to use. You do know how to fire a gun, right?"
"No, I was never trained on how to use a gun." L3-0N says.
"Well I would be happy to teach you when we find somewhere with a range." Jake says.
"Well, that can wait. I would like to get us out of here, especially if The Creed is in the area," Houston says, "I'll show you the cockpit as I get us out of here."
Houston and L3-0N move to the front of the ship where the cockpit lies. Inside are seats for a pilot and co-pilot surrounded with various flight instruments, a 3D radar sits between the seats showing other objects relative to the ship’s position. The radar shows that the Cicatrix is docked to a station named ParkStation.
Houston takes a seat in the pilot’s chair and begins pressing the various instruments in the cockpit. “Releasing docking clamps” a harsh “beep” is heard as the Cicatrix begins drifting away from ParkStation. “Alright! Now to get to a safe distance before we start the long journey back to Mars” Houston says.
An object appears on the edge of the 3D radar below the ship, beginning its approach to the station. “Oh shit, if that is what I think it is you may want to go make sure the engine doesn't explode L3.” Houston says gripping the controls.
“On it captain” L3-0N says rushing out of the cockpit.
“Jake we have potential hostiles, get up here and help me” Houston says through the intercom. The object on the radar is still making its steady approach, finally getting within visual range.
“I’m here, what’s the situation?” Jake says, rushing into the co-pilot's seat.
Houston pulls up the visual feed of the approaching object, its brick looking ship with holes for boarding pods, point defense turrets run along its hull, and bearing the insignia of the iron creed: a ring of 14 gears around a picture of a large red mechanical eye.
Finally have faces to names, er insignia to names. The creed rear their cybernetic heads to attack our protagonists.

[Previous] [First] [Next]
"I wanted to talk to you about what we found on the station, your hunch was right, it was the creed that attacked it" Jake says furrowing his brow.
"How recent was the attack?" Houston asks.
"Very, most of the station still had power, they probably just got done looting it or are coming back to finish the job" Jake responds.
"They must be getting bolder, the creed would have never tried attacking this far in before." Houston says, his face hardening, "thought I saw enough of those bolt brains when I left the military. The fact this particular pocket of Creed is strong enough to launch an assault on a small station is a big concern. I thought most of the forces that could do any real damage got destroyed in the AI war."
"Well, we can talk about this later. Welcome to the armory, if we're going on any dangerous excursions or the ship gets boarded, this is where you can find weapons to defend yourself. It also houses my collection" Jake says, gesturing to the wall filled with firearms of various calibers. "These ones here are my favorites." Jake motions to a section of the wall with antique looking firearms.
"So, who is that in the photo?" L3-0N says pointing at the back wall.
"That is the greatest man in the galaxy; John Moses Browning, the father of modern firearms" Jake says with a grin. "I have some of his creations in my collection: the Auto 5, BAR, and of course my sidearm; the M1911." Pointing out each weapon as he says its name. "We, of course, have more modern armaments for you to use. You do know how to fire a gun, right?"
"No, I was never trained on how to use a gun." L3-0N says.
"Well I would be happy to teach you when we find somewhere with a range." Jake says.
"Well, that can wait. I would like to get us out of here, especially if The Creed is in the area," Houston says, "I'll show you the cockpit as I get us out of here."
Houston and L3-0N move to the front of the ship where the cockpit lies. Inside are seats for a pilot and co-pilot surrounded with various flight instruments, a 3D radar sits between the seats showing other objects relative to the ship’s position. The radar shows that the Cicatrix is docked to a station named ParkStation.
Houston takes a seat in the pilot’s chair and begins pressing the various instruments in the cockpit. “Releasing docking clamps” a harsh “beep” is heard as the Cicatrix begins drifting away from ParkStation. “Alright! Now to get to a safe distance before we start the long journey back to Mars” Houston says.
An object appears on the edge of the 3D radar below the ship, beginning its approach to the station. “Oh shit, if that is what I think it is you may want to go make sure the engine doesn't explode L3.” Houston says gripping the controls.
“On it captain” L3-0N says rushing out of the cockpit.
“Jake we have potential hostiles, get up here and help me” Houston says through the intercom. The object on the radar is still making its steady approach, finally getting within visual range.
“I’m here, what’s the situation?” Jake says, rushing into the co-pilot's seat.
Houston pulls up the visual feed of the approaching object, its brick looking ship with holes for boarding pods, point defense turrets run along its hull, and bearing the insignia of the iron creed: a ring of 14 gears around a picture of a large red mechanical eye.
Finally have faces to names, er insignia to names. The creed rear their cybernetic heads to attack our protagonists.
[Previous] [First] [Next]

LINK: t.me/megaspremium
JOIN FAST AF, CLOSING SOON (ALL MODELS ARE 18+)

A year ago, I took a black & white photography class as an elective. In this class we used old cameras to shoot black and white photos, then developed the film with water and chemicals in a special room called the dark room.
It was actually a pretty cool class. I felt like I did decent.
Now, the reason I bring this up is because I found something. While cleaning out a deceased hoarder's possessions, I stumbled across some rolls of film. See, my close friend Felix bought a house recently and asked me to help clean it up. He explained that this house belonged to a 91-year-old man who kept mountains of garbage and stuff in his house. Now that he passed away, his daughter put the house on the market and left the cleanup to the next idiot that wanted to buy the house.
That idiot was my friend Felix.
Felix asked me if I could help him clean and throw all this guy's sh*t away. Payment included of course. I said yes since I've been low on cash and needed anything to keep me afloat, including emptying a house of its earlier residents' garbage.
Felix and I were discussing the situation and I thought, "well, who knows? Maybe we'll find a box of gold. Or some authentic jewelry. Or a never before opened Nintendo game. First edition Pokémon cards?" Only one way to find out, I guess.
So, there I was, in the basement, sorting through the boxes and choosing what's trash and what's treasure. By that point, we have already cleared the living room and bedroom upstairs. Unfortunately for us, there wasn't much treasure.
The guy was a massive hoarder. He kept some of the weirdest things for whatever reason. Stacks of newspapers from 2002, old broken toys, board games from the 80's with missing pieces and cards, old dirty cassettes and records from the 70's and so much more. I've even seen some real nasty stuff like old diapers and dirty napkins. Felix nearly threw up.
Not gonna lie, even though clearing the house of the stuff was a huge pain in the ass, I found some of it oddly fascinating. There's something about going through old stuff that isn't yours that's so intriguing. It's like a time machine especially when the stuff dates back to before you were born.
Felix wasn't as interested as I was. Taking out all the stuff in bulk was heavy work. He just wanted the job to be done so he could move in, but occasionally, if he found something strange or cool, he'd hand it to me.
We made it to the boiler room of the basement which had stuff in there too. Felix sighed, "is there a single room in this house that DOESN'T have sh*t in it?" In the boiler room, there was this rack full of boxes nearest to the door and we began there.
I pulled a box from the top rack. There was so much dust on the lid, and it blew into the air as I removed it. At the top of the box there was an old disposable camera. After I had examined it and set it aside, I dug deeper. Past all the papers and junk, I found two tiny yellow canisters. Film. "Woah", I thought, "I haven't seen one of these in a while".
I rotated each film roll in amazement. Then, I shook one roll and heard a rattle. Then I shook the other and heard it again. I thought, "wow, they haven't been developed yet". I looked over at the disposable camera sitting only a foot away from me. Looks like the old man did some photography.
"What pictures are on these film rolls?"
Suddenly, I hear, "the trash containers' almost full can you believe that?" Felix walks in as I'm holding the film. "What's that?"
I look at him and say, "these are rolls of film. Found them in this box". I held the camera up to him, "Here's the old camera the guy probably used. This is really cool! Like, what could these pictures be of?"
Felix's reaction was kind of the opposite of mine, "I mean, they're just pictures, man. Everybody takes pictures. But I guess if you want to keep it then that's fine". He turned and walked out to continue throwing more stuff out.
I guess I'm not too surprised at his reaction. Taking that photography class taught me to appreciate how people used cameras before smart phones existed. If I hadn't taken that class, I would've thrown the camera and rolls into the garbage bag.
I'm just so curious. I want to know what these pictures are of. It reminds me of this guy named John Maloof who became a millionaire after finding photos taken by Vivian Maier. Vivian had died in 2009 and her stuff was being sold at an auction. Fortunately, John Maloof bought her photos and negatives and showed the world some of the best photographs we've ever seen.
...
Later that night when I came home, I took the film rolls out of my pocket and just looked at them. I knew what I had to do. I had to go back to my university and use their dark room just one more time. I decided to do it the day after, right before work.
Developing film can be quite a long process, especially if you haven't done it in over a year like I had. I had to look over my old notes to get a refresher on it.
...
As soon as I walked into the dark room, I searched for the light switch using my phone's flash as a light source. It's incredibly hard to see in there even with a light.
See, the purpose of a dark room is to develop film in complete darkness. Film cannot be exposed to any light whatsoever when being developed. If even a tiny bit of light exposes the film, then the entire roll could be ruined. Phones and smart watches should be set aside in case it lights up from a call or notification.
I flipped the lights on and began setting up at once. At my station, I had everything that I needed for the first step, which was to unroll the films and put them into these special canisters to be developed.
The thing is, I had to do the first step in complete darkness.
I always hated this step because it gets so dark that you can't even see your hand in front of your face. So, imagine trying to grab stuff and put it in places while you can't see.
I was hesitant to turn the lights off again. I got the chills whenever it got completely dark. It’s not so bad when there’s someone else with you, but this time I was all alone.
Then I figured, "let's just get this over with" and then turned off the lights. In the dark, I walked over to my station while feeling around for stuff to not bump into. Once I knew I was at my station, I quickly found the film rolls and then got to work.
So far, it was going smoothly, and I was starting to calm down. Until it happened.
I was just about to finish. I had the canister with the film inside in my left hand, and my other hand was feeling around for the lid. I swear, as soon as I touched and grabbed onto the lid, I had the most unnerving sensation on my skin.
Something cold was making contact on my neck and I winced. I slapped my neck where I felt it and yet nothing was there. My hair stood on ends, and I had no idea what was happening. I was almost too afraid to move and continue, but I was so close. I didn't want to turn the light on yet because the film would get exposed.
Then, a few seconds later, I heard a *HUFF* and felt a huge gust of air hit the back of my head. It sounded like a horse when it blows air out of its nostrils. The wind blow was so strong it pushed me forward and I dropped my canister and film on the floor.
I quickly dropped to the floor to try to grab the film and canister but then another gust hit me from above.
*HUFF*
Now I was motionless in a fetal position unable to see what the f*ck was happening. But then, I heard something rolling on the floor and then felt it hit my elbow. I waved my hands along the floor and grasped the object with my left hand. It was the canister with the film still inside. Thank God. I just need to put the lid on and then I can turn on the lights. I got up slowly.
As I was pulling myself up, I bumped my shoulder on the counter and then it happened once more. *HUFF*. I instantly dropped back down. And then again. *HUFF*. Then again and again. *HUFF *HUFF* *HUFF* *HUFF* *HUFF*.
It was happening even faster and just wouldn't stop. I didn’t know what to do. I was sitting on the floor holding onto myself and just waiting for something to happen. If I was going to be attacked, I just wanted it to happen already.
After about a minute of me just sitting there, I felt the floor shake in a rhythm with a boom. Each time the floor shook, it was less intense and quieter than the last. The rhythm got faint until I couldn’t feel it anymore. It was as if the beast thing walked away from me on two legs.
It took me about a minute to regain my composure and I didn’t want to sit there for a minute longer. At that point, I didn’t care about the film, I just needed to turn those lights on and get out of there. Whatever that thing was, I did not want it to come back.
“Where’s my phone? I need my flashlight”, I thought, but I remembered that it was still on the counter. I had to get up.
I started with positioning my legs forward. My palms were on the floor as I pushed myself up while making no noise whatsoever. When I was half way up I placed my hand on the counter for balance. Then I placed the other but felt something round. The lid.
“There you are”, I thought. I now had the lid, but not the canister. It was still on the floor but at least I knew where it was. I reached down and picked it up. I thought, “Finally. I have them both”. Unfortunately, when I tried to put the lid on, I did not account for the noise it would make.
*POP*
Not even a second after, I felt something under my feet. Vibrations. It started off faint but got more noticeable as it started to make the floor shake. It got so violent I felt like it was going to knock me off my balance.
I walked towards where I thought the light switch was but as soon as I heard those huffs, my walk turned into a full on leap. As I leaped, my hand was stretched in front of me, hoping to find that damn light switch. My hand collided with the cold flat wall and nothing else.
I started to panic and frantically glided my hand against the wall for the switch. Right as I could feel the wind of the *HUFF* right on me, my ring finger caught a bump on the wall, and I violently pushed against it.
*CLICK*
*Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz*
My eyes were closed but I saw the light piercing through my eyelids. I heard the buzz of the fluorescent lights. I opened my eyes slowly. I was sitting on the floor with my arm raised above my head and my other arm gripping the canister against my chest.
I looked around the room. It looked the same as before I turned the lights off the first time. What the hell happened?? I swear I wasn’t the only one in this room when the lights were off. Who or what was with me in the dark?
The film is ready to be developed. I still don’t know what’s inside and I don’t know if I’m supposed to. Should I continue?

LINK: t.me/megaspremium
JOIN FAST AF, CLOSING SOON (ALL MODELS ARE 18+)

LINK: t.me/megaspremium
JOIN FAST AF, CLOSING SOON (ALL MODELS ARE 18+)

My partner (28) and I (26) have been privately engaged for 4 years and together for 6, but announced to their family yesterday due to us feeling more financially secure and being ready to share the news (just got our rings this month). FMIL is a taurus and a very big personality who loves facebook and taking pictures of everything - almost to the point of being a stereotypical facebook mom who has everyone groaning while she’s like “ wait! let’s take another picture!” on vacations or at family gatherings etc.
When we told their family at a restaurant, I was watching her face and there wasn’t even a hint of a smile and she was very quiet. The only people who reacted positively were my partners sister’s. I’m not sure if it’s cuz she just discovered she might have shingles earlier that day (but kept insisting she was fine and still wanted to eat dinner out) We were considering postponing announcing cuz of that, but fiancé’s grandma is unexpectedly leaving the country today so it was our only chance to tell them while she was still here.
She eventually said congratulations and said she liked my ring but her voice was so dry and her expression was very indifferent, it felt like she was holding something back. She asked some questions about where/when the wedding would be, but in a matter of fact voice. I also dressed nice for the occasion and got my nails done bc I knew she‘s the type of person who would want to take pictures - and not one photo or family photo was taken. Again, not sure if it may be the shingles but she didn’t even take pics of me and my fiancé, the ring, etc. So there were no pics from this announcement except for one snapchat selfie with fiancé’s sister lol.
I feel a bit bummed because I was hoping for more excitement or something. My partner talked to her privately after asking what was up with her reaction and she said it was cuz she thought I was pregnant. But we def confirmed we weren’t. I’m not sure if she feels a type of way about me joining the family. Or if she feels left out of the “proposal” process or that we were secretly engaged for much longer than they knew. This just isn’t how I imagined this big day would go and am looking for some advice/reassurance. Did anyone have similar experiences?
Edit: Adding in some more context about our dynamic - I’m worried FMIL will be JNMIL. She didn’t invite me to to their annual family vacations until last year after my fiancé confronted her. Partner opted out of the vacation before that due to covid and the years before that we were in college so I understood not being included then a bit more because we were younger. But she is very territorial about family and doesn’t consider me family because we’re not married (she’s catholic fyi) She has been working on it a bit though after that confrontation, but definitely still sense that dynamic. She and FFIL do fancy restaurant dinners as tradition for their wedding anniversary and they asked my fiancé if it could just be family and that I didn’t come to their most recent one. Of course it’s their decision and their celebration so we couldn’t say anything but this dynamic of exclusion has been annoying. This is also one of the reasons we publicly announced our engagement since marriage is such a big deal to her.

WARNING: SMOKING AND DRINKING ARE INJURIOUS TO HEALTH. POGA THAGUTA MADHYAM SEVINCHUTA AAROGYANIKI HAANIKARAM.
College days. Nenu maa prends tho kalisi flat lo unde vadini as our college was in a different city. Oka weekend sitting pettam. Beer, whisky, gin, stuff...antha manchiga undi. Proper sollu vagudu jarguthondi and as the night progressed, we got shit drunk. Drunk ainappudu chese silly stuff chesam for some time. After some time teliyakundane we slept off.
Next morning first nene lecha. Phone teesi WhatsApp open chesa. Ma family group (immediate family) lo message undi. Open chesi chuste amma nannu mention chesi "What is this?" ani image pampindi. Image download chesi chuste... nenu straight ga hero laga nilabadi, beer bottle ni 90 degrees invert chesi paiki etti motham beer ni dinchutunna pose undi. Na mind block aindi. Pakkane pandi la padukunna na drunkard friend ni lepi adiga ee photo ekkadidi ani. Nene teesanu bro ninna night, nee phone thone teesa annadu. Photo aithe evvariki pampinchinattu chats lo ledu. Etla ellindi vallaki mari?
Then I realised that my mother was using my old phone, and I did an extreme dumb mistake of forgetting to logout from my google drive account when I gave it to her. Motham camera images anni automatic ga google account lo backup avuthunnayi, so the photo was shown in google photos in her device (my old device).
My parents are a bit religious so thaagadam chala pedda paapam jargipoindi. Veellaki em cheppala ani 3 hours alochincha. Poni Appy Fizz thaguthunna (aa bottle kuda koncham beer bottle shape lo untadi kada) ani chepdam anukunte daani meeda Kingfisher ani clear ga kanipistondi. Inka labham ledani cheppesa. Adi just na second time ani, na drunkard friends nannu force chesaru ani...evevo kahanilu cheppa. Obviously they weren't convinced and lectured me. Next time nunchi I won't drink anna. Kaani tharvatha na friends almost every weekend nannu force chesaru and I couldn't do anything but drink 😭😭😭
Last weekend I met my college dosthlu after a gap of few years. I drank alcohol after a year. I realised I was never really interested in drinking alcohol - I just drank to fully enjoy their company.
Ippudu mee alcohol stories emaina unte cheppandi prends...