Nyc to grenada flight time

I share a car with my partner and she has access to it Monday through Friday up until late Friday night. She is the breadwinner at the moment and I'm kind of a house husband with my job taking care of stuff here at the house during the week.
I'm looking to try to make some extra cash to save up to get a car but I only have access to my shared vehicle on the weekends. I thought that it would be really easy to find something, so I started with grocery stores and they all want a 30 hour commitment a week, basically stopping at the idea of a weekend only employee and some ways even low-key insulting me and calling me lazy for wanting to just work two days a week.
I moved on to fast food places and I'm kind of getting the same feedback that they're more looking for dedicated 30 hour a week type of workers. Essentially they're looking for people to put in a bunch of time but still not pay them any benefits (lame).
It's infuriating to hear business owners in the news trashing younger generation saying they don't want to work, get here I am able body and looking for work and nobody wants to hire somebody to just work 16 hours a week.
Whatever happened to weekend jobs? I swear in the late 1990s and the early 2000s you could get a weekend job pretty easily. I haven't been in the weekend job market for a while and I'm very confused here and could use some advice.

Like how did the materials around us which were just rocks and trees get modified so much that they become a computer or a mobile phone? Like isn’t that crazy??? Like could you imagine what a 10000BC man would think now like this is literally unimaginable this is equivalent to our generation finding out we solve time travel in the future or something like that???
So I hope y’all get my question. I want to know how humanity invented computers from a literally rock?

Had the thought that naruto at any time could've just mixed sage Chakra in his rasengan to deal with jigen absorbing his jutsu. We seen kashin kojin use natural fire to battle isshiki so wouldn't nature energy give naruto a fair fight. He could force jigen to turn into stone without him finding out why

Chatting about fear — If your abuser is not prosecuted, do you believe your story is still credible?
Seldom are crimes against children prosecuted. If they are prosecuted, not all pedophiles or abusers are convicted. This leaves an incredible burden in the life of the victim.
“I told my story and nothing happened.”
I see it all the time. My heart seeks a higher justice because I, too, need a peace from the lack of confrontation and accountability that these abusers are not held to. They destroy the life of a child and life on like nothing happened. They buy cars, and houses, go on vacations and mock their victims by receiving no accountability — let alone some kind of punitive sentence.
Do you know why there are so many victims of these crimes? Because our justice system does very little to stop them. Incest and all childhood sexual assaults — police departments hate. These crimes lack evidence. It all becomes a hearsay story — or does it?
Do not let the fear of man stop you in your pursuit of justice. Justice does exist here on earth. I am living proof!
May the God of all comfort be with you today!

I have a reverse-osmosis (RO) system and I’d like to reclaim the waste water to flush my toilets or water the garden. I’m having a hard time figuring out the right overflow and diversion valves.
Has anyone tried to reintroduce this low-pressure water back into a high-pressure system?

Hi,
Working on my standard fantasy skirmish game and wanted to add standard undead here, brainstorming ideas for some unique rules or mechanichs to make them interesting. Because, most of the time, undead in games are just your regular "bandits" with reskin (and maybe bleed immunity for skeletons). I'm here to ask for your ideas, what common rule for all "undead" (zombies, skeletons, ghouls) would you add to make them interesting?
They've got interesting mechanic in Warhammer universe, as they don't feel "fear" and could not run from the enemy, but insted, could "crumble" if they lose their link with summoner.
Also one good example is Divinity, where healing/poisoning on undead works in reverse.
My current approach is that when undead character takes "lethal" damage, he instead left alive with a single hp. Idea was to make them feel, that they are hard to kill, but, instead, it feels more frustrating than anything, when fighting zombie hordes.
Anyway, what's your thoughts? Appreciate your help, as always.

I am a lifelong theater goer and will be in NYC with my sister for the first time this summer and we would love Broadway recommendations! Thanks u/musicaltheaterboy for the beginners guide, I am following that guide by writing this post asking for help. Here are some specs:. -We love musicals. Faves are Kinky Boots, Little shop of horrors, Joseph, West Side Story, DEH. -Hated Phantom, Sundays in the Park w/George, Miss Saigon -Would rather not do a revival, jukebox or anything currently touring. -something with Tony award buzz would be great! -celebs are not a priority Other: -Will follow previous guides on saving $$ but don’t want to get shut out completely, given this is a weekend in June there may be nada for last-minute purchases? -We arrive Wednesday 31st and can do shows anytime Thurs eve-Saturday night. Thanks in advance!

AUDITIONS
THE 2023 DALLAS COWBOYS CHEERLEADERS AUDITIONS ARE JUST AROUND THE CORNER AND WE ARE EXCITED ABOUT ANOTHER TALENTED GROUP OF APPLICANTS! BELOW IS AN OVERVIEW OF WHAT TO EXPECT THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE DCC AUDITION PROCESS.
FIRST ROUND
May 2-12 – Online Applications Accepted
REGISTRATION WILL OPEN AT 10:00 AM ON MAY 2, 2023 AND CLOSE ON MAY 12, 2023 AT 10PM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME.
Application: You may begin your application and save it to continue later
Recent Headshot: Clothing of your choice and preferably from the shoulders up.
Recent Full Length Shot: Fitted workout attire.
Videos: Record horizontally and check carefully that your space is adequate for the safe execution of your dance performance. Most phone cameras produce a quality recording. Depending on your phone, for best results, go to: Settings>Camera>Record Video and choose 1080p/30fps (default on most phones) or 4K at 60 fps. Please note, you are not being judged on media capabilities.
Introduction: 20 seconds or less stating your first name, age, hometown and something notable about yourself, wearing clothing of your choice.
Dance Performance: 60 seconds showcasing your dance abilities, set to upbeat music of your choice. We suggest using an app to add/overlay music for best sound quality. Wear hair down, dance crop top & dance shorts and footwear allowing for dance performance.
Friday, May 19 – Notifications for Second Round/Choreography
SECOND ROUND
Friday, May 19 – Choreography sent to those advancing
Pom Combo & Kickline
Monday, May 22 – Second Round videos due
Friday, May 26 – Invitations to Judge’s Showcase in Dallas
You will receive additional DCC Choreography to learn prior to Dallas Arrival
JUDGE’S SHOWCASE
Saturday, June 17 – All Day Event
Check-in at Judge’s Showcase June 17th with a driver’s license + passport or proof of application for passport. (All candidates are expected to have a passport by July 1st )
Solos – 90 Second Costumed Dance Performance (genre of your choosing)
DCC Choreo & Kickline – Rebel Two Piece Attire provided
Some advancing to Training Camp may have accommodations through family, friends, or other connections in the DFW area. Others may choose a complimentary option to stay with a DCC Alum host or at The Gaylord Texan.
TRAINING CAMP
Monday, June 19
First Meeting at The Star in Frisco
Tuesday, June 20
First Rehearsal of Training Camp in DCC Studio

 Rehearsal activities are in the evening hours from approximately 6:30-10:30PM 

Mid-July – Close of Training Camp
YOU STILL HAVE A LITTLE OVER ONE MONTH TO PREPARE FOR THE FIRST ROUND. START PLANNING YOUR TWO PIECE AUDITION ATTIRE, VIDEO INTRO AND FREE STYLE CHOREOGRAPHY. WITH AN EXCITING SEASON OF TRAVEL PLANS, PERFORMANCES AND EVENTS, WE ARE REQUIRING THAT APPLICANTS HAVE A VALID PASSPORT IF THEY ARE INVITED TO JUDGE’S SHOWCASE ON JUNE 17, 2023. IF YOU DO NOT HAVE A PASSPORT, PLEASE VISIT HTTPS://TRAVEL.STATE.GOV/CONTENT/TRAVEL/EN/PASSPORTS/NEED-PASSPORT/APPLY-IN-PERSON.HTML TO SEE ALL THE REQUIREMENTS, FEES AND PROCESSING TIMES. OTHER FEE BASED EXPEDITED SERVICES ARE AVAILABLE TO SECURe

Yeah, ive looked literally everywhere and I guess its impossible but, maybe someone knows?
I want to input parameter modulation (not automation!) into a clip in real time, vs having to draw it on the clip.
Thanks!

Hello everyone, hope you are doing good. I`m an IT student in Vilnius (Vilnius Tech uni.), currently in my 6th semester rn. I was wondering what kind of part time or full time jobs I can do in Vilnius to cover my expense? and how to find those. I`m decent in Coding (web development), my native languae is English and I`m strong in Communication and Administration as well. Tried applying to some jobs through linkedin but no response yet.
Any advise will be highly appreaciated!
Ačiū :)

Hey y'all,
I'll be graduating with my Bachelors in May and have yet to land a job. I've been applying pretty consistently for the last 2 months and here and there before that. I've only had a few interviews, and with it getting closer to the summer I'm getting a little worried I won't land anything. For context I don't have any internships, but I do have an officer position in an interesting club, a number of projects that I helped lead, three years at my schools IT department, and a 3.75 GPA.
I'm on the second round of the Dev 10 interviews, it seems like a nice enough program, the pay is kinda low and not knowing where I'll end up sucks, but at least I would have a job. My other option is to not do Dev 10 and to continue working at my current job this summer while I apply.
I guess my questions are:
To those who have experience with Dev 10, is it a waste of time for a CS grad? Are there a lot of CS people in the program? It seems they have a data science track and a software development track, I'm leaning towards data science since I think I'd learn more there.
To everyone else, do companies even hire junior devs during the summer? Or are they all hiring for start dates in January and June? If I decided against Dev 10 how likely would it be for me to get a job before next year?
Thanks for your help!

Hi there, I’m having an issue with astronomy wallpapers since updating to iOS 16.4. The thing is that before the update I was using this wallpaper with location turned off with no issues, and the world map changed from daylight to sunset during the day/night. Now after the latest update, it doesn’t change anymore. The only way to get that back is turning on location for astronomy under location services/astronomy but it uses more battery and every time I download the notifications panel I see the location icon (that white little arrow) appear for a few seconds (10 seconds approximately) and it really bothers me, first they took off the light/dark wallpapers with iOS 16 and now this? Does anyone experience the same issue with astronomy wallpapers or have a way to fix it without turning on location? Thanks in advance!

I never thought I'd say this but Chris Cote needs to be EP. Yesterday's show was incredible. Dan's vulnerabilities about trying to start a company and actually detailing what it's been like in the therapeutic-like SBS released today, where Dominique ends up interviewing Dan for most of the time in the same candid but prying manner that Dan usually interviews his subjects has been A+ content. Mike Ryan can stay in LA forever. I'll hang up and listen.

Yeah we got our ass kicked. Yeah it could cost us the 1 seed. Yeah it really sucks. That's an entirely valid take.
What is not valid is some kind of referendum on how this team actually sucks, how Jrue is trash, or how we have no chance against the Celtics in a playoff series. How Horst's attempt at getting depth is already a failure, how Pat is trash now, Crowder is garbage, Brook is overrated, Khris is washed etc.
We can, and should still finish as the best team in the NBA. We have the best player on the planet, and the best team around him we've ever had, INCLUDING the championship team.
It's time to buckle down, fear the deer, Bucks in 6. Fuck Mike Dunleavy.

Vagrancy and Vanity
Our protagonist, an emotional vagrant named Charles, suffered from a condition familiar to his generation.
“That's valid.” A phrase that might be accompanied by “King” or “Queen” sounds deceivingly positive. The vainest of the youth have weighted validity with a considerable portion of their being. Most of these people became exceptionally sensitive and courteous, yet the sensitivity and courtesy weren’t intentional. Anxious uncertainty compelled such considerations as nobody knew what else to do. That is the condition: anxious uncertainty. Every human being has experienced such a condition, but only our youth have endured these normal trifles under new social stressors.
Our vagrant, from intuition or rebelliousness, rejected it all. “I don’t care if you think I’m valid, and I’m no king!” He’d say. “Why should you know what is and isn’t valid!” He’d think, but even in rejecting the language, he remained just as, if not more of a vagrant than his peers. In this tale, Charles wrote, and he wrote until he rid himself of any residing resentment.
If everyone must be validated, then where is true validity? Such concepts manifest themselves in a new language and in a new culture, of seeking approval. How can a person of our generation find anything of substance when their conception of value relies solely on what others might approve? All we do is walk someone else’s dog, and we think we like it. I don’t want to walk your damn dog!
Heaven forbid such criticism. The only acceptable criticism is the silence of uncertainty. In this silence, they, or rather we, look at our peers in desperation. Everyone is terrified to break it. For fear of what? Being imperfect? Being human? It has become taboo for a person of our generation to criticize unless their criticism is “valid”. Someone, reading this very passage, might even think to themselves, “This is so valid!”. How do you know? What exactly makes it valid? Maybe it's not valid. Might you consider that?
Without criticism, we grow disillusioned and egotistical. It's as if we’re all famous celebrities who cannot take no for an answer. We tread on the thin ice of validity which has melted down from the dense truths that once were. Every complaint and excuse for laziness, under the guise of mental health, was approved for them.
I’ve met students who are proud of their diagnosis! “I have trauma, and I suffer.” They say in their validated victimhood. “You are a person, and a person is not their diagnosis!” I want to yell at them as they are the worst of us. I know mental illness is real, but something that is true needs no validation. Who has the worst trauma? Who suffers more? We exist in a shared state of unparalleled vanity, and due to our condition, anyone who attempts to help us will appear malicious. We don’t know to love anymore.
Charles saw how spoiled the youth had become. He saw it in himself and knew his only escape was through hard work. “I’ll become what I’ve pretended to be.” He grew excited in his scheme. It impassioned him, and he wrote without satisfaction. Perhaps he grew too excited because he forgot something. “Aaah, all this school is getting in the way. None of it will matter when I’m rich. I’ll spend my nights drinking and writing alone. Nobody can tell me what to do then!” That final phrase echoed in his head.
Charles’s warmly colored and cozy bedroom had no air conditioning. It was small and nearly cramped. Sweat traced down the side of his cheek, and he hunched over his black folding table. Worries subsided. His fingers became one with the laptop, and so he wrote on.
I have deep lakes of jealousy, fear, anger, and sadness in my mind. I’m ok with the sadness. I dislike the fear. I fear the anger, and the jealousy controls me. I’m not sure if jealousy is the right word because there is nothing in particular and no one in particular of whom I am jealous. My identity spills into places of my life where it does not belong. I need to contain myself.
Mania is becoming more probable as my vast collection of ideas continues to flop like dominoes. I simply cannot stop. I feel as though my chest might physically burst from an inundation of swirling and euphoric agitation. A martial artist, a drawer and painter, a writer, a philosopher, a fool, a lover, a friend, an enemy, a genius, a degenerate, a comic, a nerd. I’m the whole of many parts, but not one of them defines me. Is there even a self?
These ponderings are ok to be left unanswered. Even if the self is an illusion, it's there to stay. It’s there to be developed, but it can be abused and twisted. I’m abused. Maybe I’m twisted too, but I simply cannot be stopped!
Charles grimaced. His muscles strained while his fingers danced across the keyboard. The boy lost himself in ecstatic agitation as he wrote on.
I have an itch somewhere deep inside. Scratching this itch is impossible because I’m not sure where it is or how to scratch it. Nagging and nagging and still nagging. It never stops. The more I try and scratch the itch, the harder it is to find. I want so desperately to scratch it bloody, scratch it with shameful pleasure, but I cannot find it. Oh my god! What even am I talking about?
I numb my mind with goodies and treats. In those moments, my itch is harder to notice. Perhaps that is how I am scratching. But as you know, when you scratch an itch, it gets a little bit itchier. I scratch a bit more. I scratch harder and harder until I’m left bloody and mangled. So caught up in all my scratching, I couldn’t see the damage I’d already done. Bloody and mangled I need to heal, but now my itch is not just an itch. It's grown into an insatiable angst! If I scratch it now, I’ll never be healed again. If don’t scratch it now, I will suffer until I’m healed. I absolutely must not fiend into my cravings. But just this once, it’ll be ok. After all, it never stops.
“What never stops?” you may ask. This is difficult to articulate. “It” simply never stops. Catching a break might be possible, but still, it never stops.
“Well ok, but seriously, what never stops?” you continue to prod. My answer is: “you’ll see.” It never stops for anyone.
Charles groaned with dissatisfaction. He went to use the bathroom and intentionally didn’t lock the door. The bathroom connected his and his roommate’s room, and a particular pettiness habituated in the boy’s mind. He felt some edge by leaving himself vulnerable to nakedness, and every time he heard the door lock on his side, a noticeable satisfaction swirled in his chest. He finished his business and returned to his layer.
“I’d sell my own soul to get published!” In his chair, spinning in circles, with a furrowed brow and eyes all awry, he simply couldn’t be stopped. Life can be heavy and slow for years, but those who lift their burdens will float over what once felt impossible. Charles arose with a near-violent urge. It was an urge so violent, it didn’t seem like an urge, but rather a genuine burst of energy. He danced with nimble ferocity to his closet, and the knob felt warm. Then it felt hot. He yanked it in pain, and the door crashed into the wall.
Charles froze. Behind the dingy closet door stood a steaming devil. The beast peered down at him with a daunting intensity, and it stunk of death and embers. Its eyes glowed viciously. With skin black and scaly, its horns twisted then swirled from its brow! There was a pause before it spoke.
“Hello, Charles.” The demon spat with candid charisma.
“Uhh,” Charles choked on his atheism and coughed up his drug use. The beast radiated an unmistakable heft.
“Call me Satan. Don’t worry, I’m here to help.” Satan’s voice ran smoothly through the room, and Charles’s curiosity tried to shine through.
“The - Satan?” Charles shook his head, “What brings you to my closet?” He asked with a cheerful tremble in his voice.
“Charles, I’m here to help. Come inside, I know what you seek.” Satan gestured.
“There’s no way in hell I step inside that closet. I don’t swing that way!”
“No way in hell?”
“Yeah, and give me that! ‘What I seek’ is a drink!” The boy spat. Satan’s eyes flashed red at the brash response, and he handed the boy his rum. Charles gulped greedily.
“Thank you sir!” He glanced over his shoulder and shivered.
The monster hadn’t left. “The mania, it's certain now! I’ve got to strike while the iron's hot!” He thought as the warm liquor tickled his guts. He stumbled to his desk.
“Satan… you… you…” He slumped in his chair, and Satan stole him away. Wheeled into the closet, he sank through the dark floorboards with the weight of evil. Charles had been floating over things he had no business floating over. He needed to look underneath the floorboards before trusting their sturdiness.
The boy awoke, all folded up, with a crick in his neck; he cracked the closet. “Am I in hell?”. He peered out holding a novel fear of God. Charles was not in hell, but he was close enough to it. The crack revealed a somewhat large, vile, low, and most putrid crawl space. It was as if nobody had bothered to look at it for ten years. If they did, they’d see something so terrible, it could not be worth fixing. Charles's eyes tracked across the chilly room toward the sound of a grimy little Russian scratching his pen. He sat with the abyss of clutter, blending with it all and thriving in the chaos. Clearly, writing took precedence over all else, even the rats.
Each sentence, one after another, appearing terribly touched by his own eloquence, the man whispered. The spite spewed plentifully,
“Yes, but here I come to a stop! Gentlemen, you must excuse me for being over-philosophical; it's the result of forty years underground!” (Dostoyevsky 21). He spoke, with beautiful and sophisticated insolence, as if the gentlemen sat in his presence.
Charles wondered how he understood the Russian. Feeling an unusually warm breath down the back of his neck, he flinched,
“Hush Charlie boy, you shan't disturb him yet!” Satan cackled.
“Your breath smells!” The boy sneered.
The demon’s claws dropped a smoldering copy of Notes From Underground. It burned the mortal’s calloused palms, and he dropped it.
The boy leaned on the door. He wanted to ask where his favorite author was. Too late. Satan vanished with the book, and the closet burst open, banging against the wall with violence. Charles fell on a pile of wet books while the man whipped his head around. The door no longer belonged to a closet. Flat on his butt, he peered up at an ascending staircase which led outside to the gloomy St. Petersburg streets. Flurries danced in the wind, and the cold blew dusty snow underground.
Charles dodged the man as he hastened to slam the door. Shadowed in candlelight, the man under the floorboards showed no face. They stared at each other through rays of light creeping in from above. Silence. The underground man turned back to his pen.
“What’s your name?” Charles asked.
No reply. Charles walked behind him and tapped his left shoulder only to remain unnoticed. The man kept muttering,
“Men, men, men are not piano keys! They’ll see how intelligent I really am.” He tried to formulate some thought. Towering above the underground man, Satan appeared again.
“Glad to see you two are getting along!” His yellow teeth twisted up some demented smile.
“What is this?”
“Just watch Charlie boy!”
The demon whispered a phrase from the scolding pages, “The very word sticks in one's throat,” (Dostoyevsky 20). The beast’s voice read crisp and deep.
The underground man wrote with unchecked greed as Satan kept reading, “And, indeed, this is the odd thing that is continually happening: there are continually turning up in life moral and rational persons, sages and lovers of humanity who make it their object to live all their lives as morally and rationally as possible, to be, so to speak, a light to their neighbours simply in order to show them that it is possible to live morally and rationally in this world,” (Dostoyevsky 20). The man scribbled away, and Charles saw terrible sin.
Reminiscing on his first encounter with this passage, he could no longer admire Satan’s wicked words,
“And yet we all know that those very people sooner or later have been false to themselves, playing some queer trick, often a most unseemly one. Now I ask you: what can be expected of man since he is a being endowed with strange qualities? Shower upon him every earthly blessing, drown him in a sea of happiness, so that nothing but bubbles of bliss can be seen on the surface; give him economic prosperity, such that he should have nothing else to do but sleep, eat cakes and busy himself with the continuation of his species, and even then out of sheer ingratitude, sheer spite, man would play you some nasty trick,” (Dostoyevsky 21). Charles took a deep breath, and he watched the faceless man contort.
“Stop!” Charles yelled, and he sounded upset.
“I thought you liked this book. Do you not like it anymore?” The beast taunted.
“This doesn’t feel right coming from you.” The boy faced him.
“Where else should it come from?” Satan snarled.
“This isn’t our book! Fyodor Dostoyevsky wrote this!” He cried.
“Charlie boy! Where do you think we are!” Satan boomed, still smiling.
“I know where this book should come from! I won’t let you have it.” Charles snatched the scolding book. It absolutely had to be finished.
The boy read furiously as his skin melted on the smoldering leather, “He would even risk his cakes and would deliberately desire the most fatal rubbish, the most uneconomical absurdity, simply to introduce into all this positive good sense his fatal fantastic element,” (Dostoyevsky 21). In a fit, overriding any hesitation, something took over the boy’s mental faculties.
“Yes, Charles! Yes! Keep going my boy! Keep going!” Satan cried mockingly.
Charles began to raise his voice, maniacally spewing the text, “It is just his fantastic dreams, his vulgar folly that he will desire to retain, simply in order to prove to himself--as though that were so necessary-- that men still are men and not the keys of a piano, which the laws of nature threaten to control so completely that soon one will be able to desire nothing but by the calendar. And that is not all: even if man really were nothing but a piano-key, even if this were proved to him by natural science and mathematics, even then he would not become reasonable, but would purposely do something perverse out of simple ingratitude, simply to gain his point,” (Dostoyevsky 21). Charles heaved for air, and the underground man shook his sore fingers.
“Here it is Charles. The best part! The genius of it all! Why is the ego concerned with proving? Proving worth, proving freedom. You humans, you’re all so pathetic. Is this your precious self-interest?” Satan’s yellow teeth shined, and his nostrils smoked.
“This is the best part!” Charles yelled in agony, “But you don’t know why! You’re too arrogant!” He grew ravenous, even bloodthirsty with his voice.
“What did you say?” Satan boomed and flames spread about under the floorboards.
Charles couldn’t be stopped, “And if he does not find means he will contrive destruction and chaos, will contrive sufferings of all sorts, only to gain his point! He will launch a curse upon the world, and as only man can curse (it is his privilege, the primary distinction between him and other animals), may be by his curse alone he will attain his object--that is, convince himself that he is a man and not a piano-key! If you say that all this, too, can be calculated and tabulated--chaos and darkness and curses, so that the mere possibility of calculating it all beforehand would stop it all, and reason would reassert itself, then man would purposely go mad in order to be rid of reason and gain his point! I believe in it, I answer for it, for the whole work of man really seems to consist in nothing but proving to himself every minute that he is a man and not a piano-key! It may be at the cost of his skin, it may be by cannibalism! And this being so, can one help being tempted to rejoice that it has not yet come off, and that desire still depends on something we don't know?” (Dostoyevsky 21). Charles shut up as if surprised by something. He blankly stared about the flaming crawl space. The book stuck to his melted skin, and his burnt eyebrows wisped away. Flames danced in a circle around the underground man. He kept writing.
“Stop writing, we’ve got to leave!” Charles yelled as he ran to the door with the flames growing about the cluttered space.
“It’s too late Charles. You’ve killed the man.” Satan’s cackle boomed with insolence.
“Maybe this place is better off burning,” Charles said, and with a swift stomp, he kicked the book from his palms. His skin became the cover, and his blood became the ink.
“Where do you think you’re going, boy? Give me back my book!” The beast approached with an army of fire as the boy’s raw hands slipped all over the doorknob.
“This book is mine now! You don’t even understand it anyway!” Charles kicked the door down. He grabbed his book and ran up the stairs. The snowy streets blinded him. The ground shook, and the building collapsed behind him in flames. He stared at the rubble and began to weep.
“Dostoyevsky, I know now. Men are not piano keys, but that isn’t the point.” The boy smiled through his tears. Blood pooled from his hands in the snow, and he seized in the streets.
Charles dreamed of a Russian library. It was haunted, and he navigated it with friends. For some reason, he knew if they touched the books, something terrible would happen. Despite his warning, one at a time, they touched the books, and their hearts grew corrupted until he was the only one left.
When he awoke, it was morning though he knew the underground was no dream. His experience seemed too clear to be insanity. Besides, a person is not their diagnosis. He gazed at trees and clouds on the way to class feeling light, as if he were floating, from perplexity. He didn’t even care that his eyebrows were missing.
“Though men are not piano keys, maybe I should be. Then I could play a beautiful song.” He smiled. “I shouldn’t take myself so seriously. Then might it stop?” Charles finally remembered himself. He studied diligently and moved with intention. When he returned to his apartment, he opened his closet. The knob felt cool this time, but his mangled hands remembered the pain. Inside, he stared at the faint burn marks in the shape of the devil. Satan was gone, but Charles knew, without love and without truth, he’d have to face the demon again. He returned to his writing with a sensitive air of redemption.
It can feel like I’m floating between worlds. One moment, my thoughts are clear and decisive. The next, it seems like there is a new me, and this person wants nothing that I do. I feel almost concerned about writing this, but instead, I laugh. I laugh because I’m blind. I’ve known this other me for my whole life, but he’s ugly so I don’t look at him. He’s mean too, so I definitely don’t wanna talk to him. Instead, I shove him under the floorboards where he accumulates filth and makes friends with the devil.
Though I won’t listen, he speaks. His words find a way into my life. Without my attention, they control me. He drinks too much, and is lazy, and doesn’t care for his body. He tries to show off, and he hurts people. In ignoring these parts of myself they’ve grown irritable and they seek attention. Attention is what I lack because I’d rather not pay the world more than I have to. This is a stupid attitude because I owe everything I have to the world, yet it owes me nothing. That is why I’m irritable. I’m just a little bit dumb, and I’m dumb on purpose. I’ve known this for so long, so what lies under the floorboards pulls me down.
I waited too long to face these demons, so they burned my hands… and my eyebrows! It's ok though. They’re ash and dust now.
I asked, “Is there even a self?” Surely there isn’t. The ideas in my head are not my own. They’ve been heard a thousand times, so how could they be original? That is my itch. I want, and I want to be someone. How could I do that when I am full of different versions of myself? Nothing is aligned, and I suppose I’m lost in a sea of lies born out of egotism. “I deserve a break. My life sucks. That is so valid. You are worthless! I want to be somebody!” All this selfishness distracts from the only thing that really is. “I” is why it never stops. It's not from validation or whatever flaw our generation might be facing.
I hope I don’t spend my whole life itching because I was wrong. I somehow missed something so obvious. How could it not stop? It's as if I expected to live forever! Maybe if I wasn’t so itchy, I could enjoy a moment or two before it's all gone.
There is no room for me in Utopia
Work Cited
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor. 1864 Notes from the Underground. Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, Translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky. Published September 1994.

A swirling vortex of cloud and lighting sits in the sea between the two main landmasses in this part of the world. It was easily visible from the shore, the towering tornado there day and night since records began.
People had tried to explore, to see exactly what was in side this unusual weather phenomenon, but all ended the same way, with the boats being dragged underwater, never to be seen again. With this mystery, came legend.
Some spoke of gold growing from trees, some spoke of animals big enough to feed a family for a month, and some spoke of something much worse, of fire and brimstone, of demons killing everything in their path.
Of course all of this was unsubstantiated pish posh. There was no way of of this could be true.
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So for background, I have a story I have been working on, I was supposed to run this after my current group finishes Strahd, but based on how thats going its unlikely to ever happen.
I have been playing DND since 2nd ed and I am 37, I would prefer to play with other older people, but I am happy to run a game for anyone.
Game will be run on Fridays about 6:30 on Discord, hopefully for a few hours each time.
There are no entry conditions for players, just play nice and we should all get on fine.

First time poster, but I was wondering if anyone could tell me what is necessary to be replaced/realistic cost of those replacements/fixes. I'm not at all mechanically inclined, but I want to make sure this car is worth it before I buy it. I'll paste the description from Craiglist below (Keep in mind it is listed for $2,250):
MECHANICAL: GOT HOT (1) TIME AND POSSIBLY HAS BLOWN HEAD GASKET. An overall tuneup, fluid replacement, check of all hoses and belts, power washing, etc would probably be in order as it has not been driven much over the last 4 years. For sure needs new wiper blades, and a psg side headlight bulb. All other major engine components are present and appear to be in working order.
P.S. I don't care about power washing or windshield wipers as I'll be doing simple stuff myself, as well as trying to replace the headlight bulbs if simple enough. Thanks!