Brookside apartments greensburg pa

I'm 24 fresh graduate lang din. nakapag work na ako na umabot ng 6 months tapos nag resign ako at parang ayoko ng bumalik sa corpo.
For context kaya bakit ayoko na magtrabaho kase lately netong pandemic, naka jackpot ako sa crypto. ang ginawa ko sa pera ko pinangpatayo ko agad ng apartment para may passive income agad. tapos may natirang onti for savings nalang.
Nag trabaho ako for 6months kahit shit yun sahod (20k), pero para sakin di sya worth it, kase kumikita na ako ng 50k per month sa apartment ng walang ginagawa puro singil lang, tapos yun work ko sobrang hirap tas napakababa ng sahod.
Almost 6 months na ako walang trabaho. Nabubuhay naman ako tas nakakapag ipon pa din ng unti unti. ayoko ng bumalik sa corpo kasi para sakin di worth it saka grabe yun pagod sa commute, pero nasasayangan naman ako sa sarili ko na nandito lang sa bahay.
Di ko alam kung tama ba ginagawa ko, pero alam ko sa sarili ko pag nag start uli ako ng trabaho mawawalan uli ako ng gana kase alam ko may back-up ako. Alam ko na maswerte ako, pero right now stuck ako sa gitna kung ano ba talaga gusto ko na gawin, at ano ang tama na gawin.

I am just starting out playing live, and I might get my first gig, but I don’t have an amp yet. I live in an apartment, which would make it difficult to carry an amp up and down stairs, and in the subway. I’m not sure if a travel case with WHEELS would alleviate the difficulty enough for me to not hate owning a tube amp. It weighs about 50 pounds in total, with the wooden case included. It would get distributed to 25 pounds per arm since it has a handle on each side.
Now the thing I don’t get with a Floor Multi FX Unit, is that I have to depend on a PA system. What if a bar or whatever doesn’t have a PA? Then I also have to buy an FRFR amp. For practice too. Wouldn‘t it be better to just have a combo, than a FRFR + a Multi FX Unit? It costs almost the same and weighs the same. Actually, if I wanna be even more flexible, I could use a combo amp and simply plug a multi FX into the amp, or just use the line 6 alone when I have the chance. I’m kinda lost in all of this since i’m just starting out. (As an on call guitarist)

I'm afraid my boyfriends family hates me.
The other night I found some not so savory stuff on my boyfriends phone that I thought it was him being unfaithful to me based on the evidence I had. Due to a previous relationship and past trauma, I let him know I was leaving and then bolted out the door since I knew he would be upset if I just up and left.
I went back to my apartment and began drinking and crying feeling like an idiot for believing someone would actually be faithful to me for once. (We had just arrived from a 2day road trip as I have moved from IL -> PA) I felt like complete shit.
He told his family about it, me drinking, how he wasn't unfaithful, and he is very close with them. Complete opposite of me. His uncle dropped him off here and he coaxed me down and explained how it was all a misunderstanding with evidence of how it was. I believed him and we drove back.
Today for memorial day there was a cook out. I was supposed to go. But for fear that I was being judged or everyone hated me, I left early without a word and he seemed upset. He continued to try and tell me I'm not being judged but I know how much they love and care about him and how they most likely think I'm an unhealthy person now as his aunt even said that if this behavior is a pattern I'm unhealthy. I have my issues, I'm trying to cope through them. But if I falter again and he tells them about it I'm so afraid they'll tell him to leave me and I feel like he might because they're all so close. And I'm not used to that at all. I'm so scared and want to prove myself so badly but don't know how as I don't even have a relationship with my parents anymore due to how they treated me and I feel like I'm projecting how I know my parents would act and condemn me and the person I'm with and judge so harshly.
This anxiety is overwhelming and I don't know what to do. I'm isolating and he's tried to get me to come over but I feel this panic in my heart almost like I'm going to get scolded or silently judged by his family. Am I overreacting? Should I believe him? I feel like they love him so much they'll want me away from him and I can't blame them. I love him so much but I'm so scared they'll reject me as my own family has.

Over the past few years State College, PA and other college towns have had an increase of fraud schemes against college students. The top culprits of these scams are CARDINAL GROUP MANAGEMENT, CARDINAL GROUP COMPANIES and all their subsidiaries, GREYSTAR, and KEYSTONE. Across the nation, CARDINAL GROUP has carried out the same fraud scheme against college students.
Potential Tenants should avoid becoming a victim of these predatory corporations, who will only show a clean, beautiful Model, lie about the true conditions of the apartments, take your money, and only at the time of move-in will the Victims discover the uninhabitable apartments. The apartments are often infested with black mold, bugs, filth, and never cleaned between tenants. The appliances are old, almost 30 years old and non-working. Victims have gone sometimes 6 months or more without a stove to cook on, forcing them to eat out for every meal, at a considerable cost. Others have gone almost their entire fraudulent lease, with no working stove or other appliances.
There are remedies for this fraud. These are criminal acts, and not mere civil violations. If a private citizen were to carry out the same fraud scheme, they'd be arrested.
Currently, CARDINAL GROUP and GREYSTAR are being sued in multiple lawsuits in the US. CARDINAL GROUP is being sued also in Denver, Colorado and in Illinois. The Colorado case is Smith vs. Mint Urban Infinity and Cardinal Group. In Illinois, the case is Rossetti vs. Haim Saban, et al, 1:21-CV-04324. The other cases can be seen on the following, or with a quick Internet Search of CARIDINAL GROUP COMPANIES, CARDINAL GROUP MANAGEMENT, CARDINAL GROUP HOLDINGS:
https://www.businesswire.com/news/home/20221102006062/en/Hagens-Berman-College-Student-Renters-Take-on-Mega-Property-Management-Companies-in-New-Antitrust-Class-Action-Lawsuit
https://www.classaction.org/news/realpage-at-center-of-collusion-among-lessors-to-artificially-inflate-student-housing-prices-class-action-alleges
https://news.bloomberglaw.com/esg/realpage-landlords-now-face-collusion-claims-on-student-housing
https://www.propublica.org/article/realpage-accused-of-collusion-in-new-lawsuit
https://www.propublica.org/article/yieldstar-realpage-rent-doj-investigation-antitrust

Baka may alam kayong dorm or apartment around UST for solo occupant sana around 8k-9k budget pa suggest naman thank you!

>Author's Note: Been a while since I posted anything here, English is still my second language, apologies for any mistakes!
Story based and inspired by an event that happened in a long-running Role-Playing game I run for my friends.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Pa, what makes a warrior great? Fredrick said it's the length of his sword or how hard he can swing a hammer!" A Young boy asks his aging father, rocking in his chair by the fireplace while he was taking his knife to a poor block of wood in a way far gentler than he would have years ago.
The aged man chuckles. "Those are good qualities for a warrior, sure. But do you really want to know what makes a warrior great?" He ask, to the eager nodding of the young boy. "Well.. we just have to look to what All-mer Teaches us. Defeating your enemy in front of you is good, yes. But defeating the enemy because you're protecting those you love that's behind you? now that? That makes a warrior great."
It have been years since he had gotten his father's wisdom, and at the tender age of sixteen, Cedric found himself at the crossroads of his life. He was a peasant, born into a family of hardworking farmers who had tilled the fertile soil for generations.
Cedric's family was his everything. His father, Aldric, was a retired soldier who had fought many battles in his prime. Though his father had aged, his spirit remained unyielding. Over the years, he instilled in Cedric the virtues of courage, honor, and above all, love for one's family. His father's words echoed in Cedric's mind as he made a life-changing decision to join the village militia. Though he was a lowborn, he decided that it will not stop him from becoming a Great Warrior.
One fateful day, news reached his village that flaming ball had fallen from the sky, crashing in the nearby forest. The village elders were concerned, suspecting it to be an ill omen. Plausibly daemonic.. Determined to protect his loved ones, Cedric volunteered to investigate the crash site alongside his militant comrades.
With his heart racing, Cedric stood among his comrades in the darkened forest. The moonlight filtered through the thick canopy, casting eerie shadows on the ground. Anxiety mingled with excitement as the group advanced cautiously towards the crash site.
As they reached the clearing, Cedric's breath caught in his throat. There, amidst the wicked wreckage of twisted, jutting spikes and strange metal, stood a figure that seemed to defy description. It was a demon-like person, clad in dark, twisted armor. It's face were lacking features that one would call human. The air crackled with an otherworldly energy as the creature spoke in a guttural language unknown to Cedric.
Fear gripped his heart, but Cedric's resolve held firm. Brandishing his spear, he charged towards the creature, stabbing it with all his might. To his horror, the demon-like being remained unfazed, shrugging off the attack as if it were an inconvenience.
Panic ensued as the creature retaliated with thunder and lightning, One by one, Cedric's fellow militia members fell, their lives extinguished like candles in a gusty wind. Ulric was the first to go, the aged Miltia Captain having pushed him aside into the dirt before thunderous roars would rip him apart with invisible force, tearing the old man in half. Cedric's ears was ringing, he could see the many expressions on his fellow comrades, fear, panic, rage, Human. Then pain, so much pain, for a brief moment, before Timur's face was quite literally blown off of him by such daemonic force.
In the midst of the carnage, Cedric's mind raced. Thoughts of his family flooded his consciousness—the warm smiles of his mother, the playful laughter of his younger siblings, and the reassuring strength of his father. Their faces fueled his determination to protect them, even at the cost of his own life.
He spoke his prayer to All-Mer, calling upon his god, to please give him strength, for his soul, for all that he has of himself, please give him just one moment so he could protect those he love.
As if his prayers were being answered, he felt strength returning to him, power, courage and determination fills his veins as he let out a roaring cry that would make the man turned god proud, launching himself at the danger even as it's cutting down his comrades, and drive his spear right into it's face with all his might, the shaft shattered from the force delievered that managed to pierce the demon's faceplate, causing the spear tip to jut out the back of it's head, he even dared to feel relief, even for a fleeting moment.
Then a brief, thunderous crack, three times.
Cedric's efforts were in vain. The Daemon, despite it's mortal injury, does not at all seemed bothered by his hail mary. He felt such sharp, burning pain in his abdomen, then cold, so cold.. his body succumbed to the wounds inflicted upon him. As darkness claimed his vision, his last thoughts were of his family, a heartfelt plea for their safety lingering on his lips.
The valiant young boy turned man met his tragic end that day in the battle against an unknown foe. His sacrifice would forever be etched in the hearts of those who knew him when his remains were later found, a testament to the power of love and the lengths one would go to protect their cherished ones. Or so hyperbolic bards would have you believe.
Little did Cedric know, the crash site concealed a secret that would have altered his perception of the daemon-like figure had he known. For the shattered remnants of the fallen object were a vessel from a distant realm, travelled through the incomprehensible void above his world, and the demon-like person was merely a traveler, clad in advanced power armor, lost and seeking aid.
But that knowledge would remain hidden, forever shrouded in the annals of the forgotten, as Cedric's tale became one of sacrifice, love, and the indomitable spirit of a young man who fought not for hatred, but for the love he held for what was behind him.
He became what he had wanted to be in the end, A Great Warrior.
Another hero, never to return home.

Life's been so tough lately to the point na sa sobrang hirap, hindi ko maiyak. But this night, I got the reason to make my tears fall apart. My university finally released the list of latin honors, and I didn't make it.
I am a graduating college student, consistent honor student since junior high school. But everything changed pagtungtong ng college, totoo na it's a matter of survival na lang. Inexpect ko naman na unang taon pa lang, pero nilaban ko hanggang huli pero hindi pa rin talaga kinaya. And that mistake was not my fault, its the University and the Professor's pero ako yung nagsuffer.
I know that I can still be an honor student, other friends/classmates keep asking me kung pasok ba ako kasi kita talaga nila yung potential ko. Kaya dumadagdag tuloy yung pressure and disappointment na yun. I know I don't owe them any, pero yun talaga yung nafefeel ko. My family esp. my mom who is an OFW for 22 years never put a pressure on me, pero yun na lang kasi yung alam ko na maibibigay ko sana sa kanya na kaligayahan. Sorry ma, I failed this time. Sana sa totoong laban ng buhay, makabawi ako sayo/sa inyo.
Di ko mailabas yung nafefeel ko so dito ko na lang ira-rant, I'm keeping my image kasi na tanggap ko na nang maluwag but in reality, tatanggapin ko pa lang. I hope proud pa rin sila sa akin, kasi di ko maramdaman yun para sa sarili ko.

According to Amtrak's webside, eastbound Lakeshore Limited train #1448 leaves Chicago at the same time as LSL #48 and #448 bound for Boston. As I understand it, all three of these leave Chicago as a single consist. Trains #48 and #448 split apart at Albany/Rensselaer, with #48 going to New York Penn and #448 to Boston South.
After leaving Cleveland OH, train #1448 appears to run faster than trains #48 and #448, arriving at Erie PA three minutes ahead of the others, and by the time it gets to Boston South, it's scheduled an entire half hour ahead of #448. What is going on here?

I (31M) was catching up with the boys, it's the usual boys talk over bottles; life, work, hobbies, etc. One friend of mine, let's call him Josh, shared that he had been seeing a girl for almost half a year already. They are having dinner dates almost every week, the yewsh ligaw stage/situationship stage where nobody's trying to ask what's the deal.
So recently, napapadalas daw ang pag-yayaya ni girl sa mga mamahaling restau and nagsesend pa ng reels about food/travel/lifestyle. I asked Josh who pays for dinner dates, he said he is the one paying, which he said he doesn't mind. Mayaman si Josh and has a good job and a business at the side, so money really doesn't matter, napansin niya lang recently na napapadalas magyaya ng labas si girl at pamahal nang pamahal yung mga pinupuntahan nila. Josh asked us a question, is this an eatly warning sign na gold-digger yung girl, or it's just namihasa na lang din yung girl.
The response from most of the boys is a loud YES! Can't blame them, it's looking after a bro. I said that we should take a step back since we don't know the girl. So Josh told us a short background of the girl (27F), HR at a BPO company, family is from the middle-class, renting an apartment with a co-worker, and as Josh would say, a little bit irresponsible on her finances. Josh said he doesn't mind spending at all, especially if he's the one who brought up the idea, napapadalas lang talaga na si girl and nagyayaya at nagdedecide saan sila pupunta, to which he feels uncomfortable. We asked if there was a time she offered to pay for the bill or offered to split it, Josh said, there were only two occasions during their first 5 dates.
Hindi din naman lumaking mayaman si Josh, whatever he has right now, pinaghirapan niya. He then thought that it is just fair that if you are bringing up an idea for a date, you better be sure you can afford it or split the bill at least. Sabi nga ng isa naming barkada, "ilugar ang kaartehan kung san abot ang paycheck", to which I got a bit mindblown and agreed. I mean, I know for a fact that our ligaw culture is all about putting your best foot forward but I think healthy boundaries can be established early on. Josh said that this girl is trying to get him to agree to get a reservation somewhere serving caviar and sh*t, to which Josh tried bailed out by telling her he booked a solo trip somehwere to relax.
So.... Kami ba yung gago kung ibabase namin sa financial capacity ng kadate namin kung worth it ba or hindi yung date? HAHA!
TL;DR Nag-agree ako sa friend ko na kung if sa tingin niya na hindi naman afford nung kadate namin yung suggested nilang place/date, he better not go for it.

TLDR at the bottom
Recently purchased a second floor condo in a central PA neighborhood
Furnace is leaking exhaust into unit, AC is inoperable and summer is right around the corner and we’re renovating the whole thing (first time HO’s, first time renovators. So we will need the AC)
Sent an “architectural request” for us to upgrade our current HVAC unit from the current 80% efficient system using the duct work to a 96% efficient system which uses PVC piping to minimize loss of air
We thought this would be a worth upgrade between the additional incentives we’d get, the reduction in carbon foot print, and overall efficiency of the system for on going energy costs not to mention that this is the way things are going, and the system currently in place was built in 2007 with no upgrades since
Originally we had requested a side vented exhaust pipe (12” x 8”) that would go on the exterior of the home
The HOA asked if the HVAC company could do it on the roof
Hvac company said sure we do that often as well, but we prefer side vented as roof vented is just another area to leak
Sent that to the HOA
HOA didn’t respond
Followed up with another message as we’re dealing with install times and getting this up and running before our apartment lease is up
REQUEST DENIED
I asked what that meant, was the side vent denied? Or was the roof vent that they suggested also denied
They did not respond to my question but asked us to send them the updated plans once finalized
Hvac company was really surprised
I’m upset
Wife’s upset
We see tons of other units with way more pipes on their roof than ours
Is there anything we can possibly do?
TLDR: requested high efficiency hvac system which requires PVC venting on exterior wall. HOA requested it on roof instead. Told them we could do it on roof. Then was denied

Nalulungkot ako ngayong lunes, dala siguro ng monday blues? Anyways, please let me take this off.
May girlfriend ako, 21 years old and i'm 27, yes malaki age gap namin pero damn bro we have matured relationship and goods kami. Hindi ko alam actually paano ko uumpisahan to dahil sa bigat na nararamdaman ko. Ang fucked up ng buhay niya, pero tangina she's so strong as fuck. She stopped school last 2020 dahil sa mga priorities na kailangan ayusin, gumawa kase ng issue ang gago niyang tatay at kailangan nila magbayad sa mga damages na nagawa ng tatay niya. Everything's settled, pero yung tanginang tatay niya hanggang ngayon wala parin trabaho, ayaw maghanap at mapili pa sa gustong pagkakakitaan. My girlfriend supported them for already 2 fcking years, temporarily sacrificing her dreams na makapagtapos, knowing din na since high school sarili na din pala niya sumusupport sa sarili niyang mga bayarin, tapos ngayon for that 2 fucking years wala paring ginagawa ang tatay nya, ang alam lang nya ay maghintay at manghingi kahit panglunch or pangdinner hindi pa niya maibigay ang gago. Her mom does most of the work before, kaso nagkaroon ng sakit mentally nanay nya, she's suffering from bipolar disorder, isipin mo yon? She handles everything, therapy ng nanay nya and meds, food, bills sa bahay, siya lahat and yung tanginang tatay niya walang ginagawa, nakukuha pang humingi, kunwari panggrocery o pambili ng pagkain pero kinukupit lang ang binibigay sakanya tanginang yan.
Ang shitty, it breaks me apart tuwing makikita ko girlfriend ko na tulala at nalulungkot, lalo tuwing magsasabi na, "parang hindi ko na ata kaya", "gusto ko na umalis dito, please hanap mo ko ng apartment". Kung ako lang iaalis ko na talaga siya sa bahay nila, kukuha nalang ng apartment at mamuhay kami ng payapa, very reason lang kung bakit hindi pa nya magawang umalis dahil iniitindi pa niya nanay nya na currently nagrerecover pa sa mental state niya.
I'll cut the story here naiiyak na ko haha, i just wanna say proud na proud ako sakanya, despite of all the things she's going through, nakukuha parin niya lumaban and hindi tumitigil mangarap. Kaya ang precious para sakin every time I see her smile kahit hirap na hirap na siya. Sobrang nakakalungkot lang dahil she has to go through these hardships at a very young age, balak niya itry ulit bumalik ng school this year as a working student (student sa umaga, bpo sa gabi), sana matupad yon and sana kayanin. Sorry napahaba, hindi nalang talaga madala ng puso ko yung kalungkutan.
​
Edit : Pahabol pa, siya din pala nagpapaaral sa dalawa pa niyang kapatid, nagbibigay ng baon at mga needs sa school simula nung gumawa ng kagaguhan tatay niya. Imagine doing all those simula 19 siya? Napakabata, Fuck.

Apart from the new Fast and furious being the worst one of them all, it’s also full of triggering scenes
One scene has a montage of just girls tweaking and dancing in tiny bikinis.
There was also a scene where a girl had her nipples poking through her shirt and my bf looked away and asked if I wanted him to watch or not, which really triggered me because it was near the beginning and he didn’t ask for any of the other scenes with girls in it, so he clearly looked right down at them which is what made him ask, I’d be grateful he asked instead of just looking except he denied looking at all and said he just asked because a girl was on screen 🫠
Also a lot of choking scenes with girls making moaning sounds, if anyone else struggles with that due to what their PA was into
Overall, I don’t suggest watching it with your PA

Time for the rest of the Big 12 and the other three newcomers! The year in parenthesis is the date each team last played each other. As always if I missed any dates or mashups, please let me know!
​

1. Kansas

Army (0-1) (1922)
Auburn (0-2) (1988)
Bowling Green (0-1) (2002)
Coastal Carolina (0-3) (2021)
Louisville (0-3) (1990)
Miami (FL) (0-4) (1990)
Michigan (0-3) (1979)
Mississippi State (0-1) (1981)
North Carolina (0-2) (1986)
North Carolina State (0-2) (2003)
Northwestern (0-2) (2004)
Ohio (0-3) (2017)
Penn State (0-1) (1969)
Pittsburgh (0-3) (1980)
San Diego State (0-1) (1999)
Stanford (0-1) (1967)
Tennessee (0-2) (1974)
Virginia (0-2) (1991)
Washington (0-1) (1978)
Villanova (PA) (0-1) (1940)
Pennsylvania (0-1) (1930)
North Dakota St. (0-1) (2010)
Nicholls St. (LA) (0-1) (2018)
Marquette (WI) (0-4) (1945)
Knox (IL) (0-1) (1902)
Iowa Navy Pre-Flight (0-1) (1942)
Fort Riley (KS) (0-1) (1943)
​

1. Kansas State

Alabama (0-1) (2022)
Army (0-2) (1987)
Auburn (0-4) (2014)
Boston College (0-4) (1994)
Florida (0-2) (1973)
Florida State (0-3) (1977)
Fresno State (0-2) (2007)
Illinois (0-1) (1948)
Louisville (0-2) (2008)
Navy (0-1) (2019)
Northwestern (0-2) (1941)
Ohio State (0-1) (2004)
Oregon (0-1) (2013)
Penn State (0-2) (1969)
Purdue (0-3) (1998)
Rutgers (0-1) (2006)
Tulane (0-2) (2022)
Vanderbilt (0-2) (2017)
Wisconsin (0-2) (1982)
Olathe NAS (KS) (0-1-1) (1945)
San Francisco (CA) (0-1) (1946)
Northern Iowa (0-3) (1989)
Kansas City Medical (MO) (0-1) (1901)
Hardin-Simmons (TX) (0-1) (1946)
Colorado College (0-1) (1910)
Cal St.-Long Beach (0-1) (1983)
Austin Peay St. (TN) (0-1) (1987)
​

1. Iowa State

Alabama (0-1) (2001)
Arkansas (0-1) (1973)
Boise State (0-1) (2002)
Boston College (0-1) (1961)
California (0-1) (1963)
Clemson (0-1) (2021)
Georgia Tech (0-1) (1972)
Louisiana Lafayette (0-1) (2020)
LSU (0-1) (1971)
Michigan State (0-2) (1948)
New Mexico State (0-1) (1983)
North Carolina State (0-1) (1977)
Notre Dame (0-1) (2019)
Oregon State (0-1) (1962)
Rutgers (0-1) (2011)
South Carolina (0-1) (1967)
Syracuse (0-1-1) (1969)
Tennessee (0-1) (1982)
Washington (0-1) (1974)
Washington State (0-1) (2018)
Wisconsin (0-7) (1993)
Villanova (PA) (0-2) (1956)
Ottumwa NAS (IA) (0-1) (1943)
Loyola (LA) (0-1) (1930)
Iowa Navy Pre-Flight (0-1) (1943)
Central Oklahoma (0-1) (1922)
Butte AC (MT) (0-1) (1895)
​

1. West Virginia

Alabama (0-1) (2014)
Florida State (0-3) (2010)
LSU (0-2) (2011)
Michigan (0-1) (1904)
Michigan State (0-4)
Minnesota (0-1) (2021)
Nebraska (0-1) (1994)
Notre Dame (0-4) (2001)
Oregon (0-2) (1963)
Oregon State (0-2) (1962)
Rice (0-1) (1964)
Southern Cal (0-1) (1959)
Stanford (0-1) (1972)
Texas A&M (0-1) (2014)
Utah (0-2) (2017)
Wisconsin (0-4) (2003)
Bucknell (PA) (0-1-2) (1910)
Duquesne AC (PA) (0-1-1) (1896)
Dartmouth (NH) (0-1-1) (1917)
Yale (CT) (0-1) (1920)
Pennsylvania (0-5) (1916)
Manhattan (NY) (0-2) (1939)
Mahoning Cycle Club (OH) (0-1) (1896)
Greensburg AA (PA) (0-1) (1894)
Detroit (MI) (0-4) (1932)
Denison (OH) (0-2) (1912)
​

1. Cincinnati

Alabama (0-6) (2021)
Arkansas (0-1) (2022)
Auburn (0-2) (1986)
Air Force (0-1) (1961)
Bowling Green (0-4) (1994)
BYU (0-2) (2016)
Central Michigan (0-1) (1990)
Florida (0-2) (2010)
Florida State (0-6) (1990)
Georgia (0-3) (2021)
Iowa (0-1) (1990)
Maryland (0-2) (1976)
Michigan (0-1) (2017)
Nebraska (0-1) (1906)
Nevada (0-1) (1949)
North Carolina (0-3) (2013)
Northwestern (0-2) (1924)
Oklahoma (0-2) (2010)
South Carolina (0-2) (1982)
Wooster (OH) (0-3) (1924)
West Texas A&M (0-1) (1950)
Washington (MO) (0-1) (1903)
Washington & Jefferson (PA) (0-1) (1899)
Stumps (0-2) (1904)
Muskingum (OH) (0-1) (1931)
Morehead St. (KY) (0-2) (1989)
Haskell Indian Nations (KS) (0-1) (1900)
Georgetown (DC) (0-2) (1936)
Duquesne AC (PA) (0-1) (1895)
Cincinnati YMCA (OH) (0-1) (1893)
Chicago (IL) (0-1) (1893)
Carlisle Indian School (PA) (0-4) (1906)
​

1. BYU

Alabama (0-1) (1998)
Arkansas (0-1) (2022)
Coastal Carolina (0-1) (2020)
Florida State (0-4) (2010)
Georgia (0-1) (1982)
Indiana (0-1) (1979)
Iowa State (0-4)
Kansas (0-1) (1992)
LSU (0-1) (2017)
Louisville (0-1) (2001)
Marshall (0-1) (1999)
Memphis (0-1) (2014)
Northern Illinois (0-1) (2018)
Ohio State (0-3) (1993)
Oklahoma State (0-2) (1976)
Texas Tech (0-1) (1940)
UAB (0-1) (2021)
WVU (0-1) (2016)
Wichita St. (KS) (0-1) (1956)
West Texas A&M (0-1) (1961)
San Francisco (CA) (0-2) (1931)
San Diego Marines (CA) (0-1) (1933)
Portland (OR) (0-2) (1938)
Pacific Fleet (CA) (0-2) (1949)
George Washington (DC) (0-2) (1963)
Fort Douglas (UT) (0-1) (1942)
​

1. UCF

Arizona State (0-1) (2002)
Arkansas (0-1) (2001)
Clemson (0-1) (2001)
Duke (0-1) (2022)
Florida State (0-1) (1995)
Hawaii (0-1) (1985)
Kansas State (0-1) (2010)
LSU (0-1) (2019)
Miami (FL) (0-2) (2009)
Michigan (0-1) (2016)
Mississippi State (0-2) (2007)
Missouri (0-2) (2014)
Nebraska (0-1) (1997)
Nevada (0-1) (2005)
Ohio State (0-1) (2012)
Ole Miss (0-1) (1997)
Purdue (0-2) (1999)
South Carolina (0-5) (2015)
Syracuse (0-3) (2003)
Texas (0-2) (2009)
Texas State (0-2) (1985)
Utah State (0-1) (2001)
WVU (0-2) (2004)
Virginia Tech (0-3) (2003)
Wisconsin (0-1) (2004)
Wofford (SC) (0-1) (1986)
Wichita St. (KS) (0-1) (1986)
Stephen F. Austin (TX) (0-1) (1985)
SUNY-Albany (NY) (0-1) (1980)
Richmond (VA) (0-1) (1983)
Presbyterian (SC) (0-2) (1981)
New Haven (CT) (0-1) (1988)
Indiana St. (0-1) (1984)
Furman (SC) (0-2) (2015)
Alabama A&M (0-2) (1982)
​
https://espn960sports.com/byu/big-12-deregulation-vote/

Hi, I am planning to make a cross country move from a city in Pennsylvania to Salt Lake City. My future apartment is in downtown and I am planning to use UPack's Relocubes. I have a one bedroom apartment with less to medium stuffs. I am planning to do the loading at PA with my friends and thinking about hiring help for unloading at SLC.
I spoke to my new apartment leasing folks at SLC and they do have a loading/unloading dock but it can only be used from 12pm to 6am because the garbage truck comes everyday in the morning so they cannot let me keep the cubes overnight. I'm not sure what happens if there is any miscommunication between the ReloCube delivery vs the movers I hire to help me move. I cannot keep the cubes overnight so if any miscommunication happens, I'll be in a pickle. Anyone faced these kinda issues before?
Scenarios:

1. UPack drops off the cubes, and moving helpers cancels/reschedules
2. UPack drops off the cubes, movers are on time and moves my stuffs, but doesn't get picked up the same day!

I loved the UHauls container concept and if I get moving help from their list of movers then potentially they'll bring the container and unload and take it back with them. But one container might not suffice hence planning to go for UPack.

My name is Long, I'm 27 from PA and here is what I look like! I'm a homebody nerd (that occasionally travels) that is looking for his boo!
I'm a chill, positive, go with the flow guy that knows when to be serious...However I love making people smile and I'm usually joking around more often than not.
In my free time I like to play World of Warcraft, fighting games, work out, sing, and I LOVE watching crime scene / speed run documentaries and the occasional anime.
I have 2 cats, Sanji and Mojo. Sanji is a gray cat named after my favorite one piece character and has a permanent head tilt. Mojo is named after the Powerpuff girl villain and is cow printed. I would love to exchange pet pics for pet pics!
I have my own apartment, a full time career that I love, and I feel like I'm ready to share my life with someone who wants to do the same.
I'm not looking to have children and I am strictly monogamous. I'm also looking for people between 24-32. I'm completely fine with relocating if we end up clicking!
If any of this interests you, please send me a chat or message with one of your passions! It can be a hobby you adore, or a show/book that you're super fascinated by. Also, if possible, please send a picture! I think physical attraction does play a part, a minimal one, but one for sure.
Okay that's it for me! I appreciate everyone for reading and I hope yall have a great week. Hope you all find what you're looking for! :)

The whirring blades of my MD-902 throbbed against the warm evening air, and I smiled.
From 5,000 feet, the ground flew by in a carpet of dark forests and kelly-green fields. The sun hung low on the horizon in a picturesque array of dazzling orange and gold, and I could make out the narrow strip of the Ohio River to my left, glistening in the fading daylight. This time of year, the trees would be full of the sweet aroma of fresh blossoms, and the frequent rains kept small pockets of fluffy white mist hanging in the treetops. It was a beautiful view, one that reminded me of why being a helicopter pilot trumped flying in a jumbo jet far above the clouds every day of the week.
Fourteen more days, and I’m debt free.
That made me grin even more. I’d been working as a charter pilot ever since I obtained my license at age 19, and after years of keeping my nose to the grindstone, I was closing on the final payment for real-estate in western Pennsylvania. With no debt, a fixer-upper house on 30 rural acres all to myself, and a respectable wage for a 26-year-old pilot, I looked forward to the financial freedom I could now enjoy. Maybe I’d take a vacation, somewhere exotic like Venice Italy, or the Dominican Republic. Or perhaps I’d sock the money back for the day I started a family.
“Remember kleineun, a real man looks after his own.”
My elderly ouma’s voice came back from the depths of my memories, her proud, sun-tanned face rising from the darkness. She and my Rhodesian grandfather had emigrated to the US when they were newlyweds, as the violence against white Boer descendants in South Africa spiraled out of control. My mother and father both died in a car crash when I was six, and it had been my grandparents who raised me. Due to this, I’d grown up with a slight accent that many of my classmates found amusing, and I could speak both English, and Afrikaans, the Boer tongue of our former home.
I shifted in my seat, stretched my back muscles, and glanced at the picture taped to my console. Both my parents flanked a grinning, gap-toothed six-year-old me, at the last Christmas we’d spent together. My mother beamed, her dark hair and Italian features a sharp contrast to my father’s sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. Sometimes, I liked to imagine they were smiling at me with pride at how well I flew the old silver-colored bird my company had assigned to me, and that made the long, lonely flights easier to bear.
A flicker caught my eye, and I broke my gaze away from the photograph.
Perched in its small cradle above the controls, my little black Garmin fuzzed over for a few seconds, its screen shifting from brightly colored maps to a barrage of grey static.
Did the power chord come loose?
I checked, ensuring the power-cable for the unit’s battery was plugged into the port on the control panel. It was a brand-new GPS unit, and I’d used it a few times already, so I knew it wasn’t defective. Granted, I could fly and navigate without it, but the Garmin made my time as a pilot so much easier that the thought of going blind was dreadful.
My fuel gauge danced, clicked to empty, then to full, in a bizarre jolt.
More of the gauges began to stutter, the entire panel seeming to develop terrets all at once, and my pulse began to race. Something was wrong, very wrong, and the sludge inside my bowels churned with sour fear.
“Come on, come on.” I flicked switches, turned dials, punched buttons, but nothing seemed to fix the spasming electronics. Every gauge failed, and without warning, I found myself plunged into inky darkness.
Outside, the sun surrendered to the pull of night, the sky darker than usual. A distant rumble of thunder reverberated above the roar of my helicopter’s engine, and I thought I glimpsed a streak of yellowish lightning on the far horizon to my left.
Calm down Chris. We’re still flying, so it must just be a blown fuse. Stay in control and find a place to set her down.
My sweaty palm slid on the cyclic stick, and both feet weighed heavy on the yaw pedals. The collective stuck to my other hand with a nervous vibration, and I squinted against the abyss outside.
Beep.
I jumped despite myself, as the little Garmin on my panel flared back to life, the static pulling aside to reveal a twitching display. Each time the screen glitched, it showed the colorful map detailing my flight path over the ground below, but I noticed that some of the lines changed, the names shifting, as if the device couldn’t decide between two different versions of the world.
One name jutted out at me, slate gray like most of the major county names, appearing with ghostly flickers from between two neighboring ones.
Barron County.
I stared, confused. I’d flown over this section of southeastern Ohio plenty of times, and I knew the counties by heart. At this point, I should have been over the southern end of Noble County, and maybe dipping lower into Washington. There was no Barron County in Ohio. I was sure of it.
And yet it shown back at me from the digital landscape, a strange, almost cigar-shaped chunk of terrain carved from the surrounding counties like a tumor, sometimes there, sometimes not, as my little Garmin struggled to find the correct map. Rain began to patter against my cockpit window, and the entire aircraft rattled from a strong gust of wind. Thick clouds closed over my field of vision like a sea of gray cotton.
The blood in my veins turned to ice, and I sucked in a nervous breath.
Land. I had to land. There was nothing else to do, my flight controls weren’t responding, and only my Garmin had managed to come back to life. Perhaps I’d been hit by lightning, and the electronics had been fried? Either way, it was too dark to tell, but a storm seemed to be brewing, and if I didn’t get my feet on the ground soon, I could be in real trouble.
“Better safe than sorry.” I pushed down on the collective to start my slow descent and clicked the talking button for my headset. “Any station, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, over.”
Nothing.
“Any station, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, requesting emergency assistance, over.”
Still nothing.
If the radio’s dead, I’m really up a creek.
With my hand shaking, I clicked on the mic one more time. “Any station, this is—”
Like a curtain pulling back, the fog cleared from around my window, and the words stuck in my throat.
Without my gauges, I couldn’t tell just how far I’d descended, but I was definitely very low. Thick trees poked up from the ground, and the hills rolled into high ridges with flat valley floors, fields and pastures pockmarking them. Rain fell all around in cold, silvery sheets, a normal feature for the mid spring in this part of Ohio.
What wasn’t normal, were the fires.
At first, I thought they were forest fires for the amount of smoke and flames that bellowed from each spot, but as I swooped lower, my eyes widened in horror.
They were houses.
Farms, cottages, little clusters that barely constituted villages, all of them belched orange flames and black pillars of sooty smoke. I couldn’t hear above the helicopter blades, but I could see the flashes on the ground, along the road, in between the trees, and even coming from the burning buildings, little jets of golden light that spat into the darkness with anger.
Gunfire. That’s rifle fire, a whole lot of it.
Tiny black figures darted through the shadows, barely discernable from where I sat, several hundred feet up. I couldn’t see much, but some were definitely running away, the streaks of yellow gunfire chasing them. A few dark gray vehicles rumbled down one of the gravel roads, and sprayed fire into the houses as it went. They were fighting, I realized, the people in the trucks and the locals. It was horrific, like something out of war-torn Afghanistan, but worse.
Then, I caught a glimpse of the others.
They didn’t move like the rest, who either fled from the dark vehicles, or fired back from behind cover. These skinny figures loped along with haphazard gaits, many running on all fours like animals, swarming from the trees by the dozens. They threw themselves into the gales of bullets without flinching, attacking anyone within range, and something about the way they moved, so fluid, so fearless, made my heart skip a beat.
What is that?
“Echo Four Actual to unknown caller, please respond, over.”
Choking back a cry of shock, I fumbled at the control panel with clumsy fingers, the man’s voice sharp and stern. I hadn’t realized that I’d let go of the talking button and clicked it down again. “Hello? Hello, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot out of Pittsburgh, over.”
An excruciating moment passed, and I continued to zoom over the trees, the fires falling away behind me as more silent forest took over.
“Roger that Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, we read you loud and clear. Please identify yourself and any passengers or cargo you might be carrying, over.”
Swallowing hard, I eyed the treetops, which looked much closer than they should have been. How far had I descended? “Echo Four Actual, my name is Christopher Dekker, and I am alone. I’m a charter flight from PA, carrying medical equipment for OSU in Columbus. My controls have been damaged, and I am unable to safely carry on due to the storm. Requesting permission to land, over.”
I watched the landscape slide by underneath me, once catching sight of what looked like a little white church surrounded by smaller huts, dozens of figures in the yard staring up at me as I flew over a nearby ridgeline.
“Solid copy on that Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot. Be advised, your transponder shows you to be inside a restricted zone. Please cease all radio traffic, reduce your speed, climb to 3,000 feet and proceed north. We’ll talk you in from there. How copy, over?”
My heart jumped, and I let out a sigh of relief. “Roger that Echo Four Actual, my altimeter is down, but I’ll do my best to eyeball the altitude, over.”
With that, I pulled the collective upward, and tried my best to gauge how far I was by eyesight in the gathering night, rain still coming down all around me. This had to be some kind of disaster or riot, I decided. After all, the voice over the radio sounded like military, and those vehicles seemed to have heavy weapons. Maybe there was some kind of unrest going on here that I hadn’t heard about yet?
Kind of weird for it to happen in rural areas though. Spoiled college kids I get, but never saw farmers get so worked up before. They usually love the military.
Something moved in the corner of my eye, and I turned out of reflex.
My mouth fell open, and I froze, unable to scream.
In the sky beside me, a huge shadow glided along, and its leathery wings effortlessly carved through the gloom, flapping only on occasion to keep it aloft. It was too dark for me to see what color it was, but from the way it moved, I knew it wasn’t another helicopter. No, this thing was alive, easily the size of a small plane, and more than twice the length of my little McDonald Douglass. A long tail trailed behind it, and bore a distinct arrow-shaped snout, with twig-like spines fanned out around the back of its head. Whatever legs it had were drawn up under it like a bird, yet its skin appeared rough and knobby, almost resembling tree bark. Without pause, the gigantic bat-winged entity flew along beside me, as if my presence was on par with an annoying fly buzzing about its head.
Gripping the microphone switch so tight, I thought I’d crack the plastic, I whispered into my headset, forgetting all radio protocol. “T-There’s something up here.”
Static crackled.
“Douglas Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, say again your last, you’re coming in weak and unreadable, over.”
“There’s something up here.” I snarled into the headset, still glued to the controls of the helicopter, afraid to deviate even an inch from my course in case the monstrosity decided to turn on me. “A freaking huge thing, right beside me. I swear, it looks like a bat or . . . I don’t know.”
“Calm down.” The man on the other end of the radio broke his rigorous discipline as well, his voice deep, but level. “It won’t attack if you don’t move too fast. Slowly ease away from it and follow that course until you’re out of sight.”
I didn’t have time to think about how wrong that sounded, how the man’s strict tone had changed to one of knowledge, how he hadn’t been the least surprised by what I’d said. Instead, I slowly turned the helicopter away from the huge menace and edged the speed higher in tiny increments.
As soon as I was roughly two football fields away, I let myself relax, and clicked the mic switch. “It’s not following.”
“You’re sure?”
Eyeing the huge flapping wings, I nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see me. “Yeah, I’m well clear.”
“Good. Thank you, Mr. Dekker.”
Then, the radio went dead.
Something in my chest dropped, a weight that made my stomach roil. This wasn’t right, none of it. Who was that man? Why did he know about the thing I’d just seen? What was I supposed to—
A flash of light exploded from the trees to my right and shot into the air with a long finger of smoke.
What the . . .
On instinct, I jerked the cyclic stick to one side, and the helicopter swung to avoid the rocket.
Boom.
My world shook, metal screeched, and a dozen alarms began to go off inside the cockpit in a cacophony of beeps and sirens. Orange and red flames lit up the night sky just behind me, and the horizon started to spin wildly outside. Heat gushed from the cockpit door, and I smelled the greasy stench of burning oil. The safety belts dug into my shoulders, and with a final slip, the radio headset ripped free from my scalp.
I’m hit.
Desperate, I yanked on the controls, fought the bird even as she spun toward the ground in a wreath of flames, the inky black trees hurtling up to meet me. The helicopter went into full auto-rotation, the sky blurring past outside, and the alarms blared in a screech of doom. Panic slammed through my temples, I screamed at the top of my lungs, and for one brief second, my eyes locked on the little black Garmin still perched atop my control panel.
Its screen stopped twitching and settled on a map of the mysterious Barron County, with a little red arrow at the center of the screen, a few words popping up underneath it.
You are here.
Trees stabbed up into the sky, the belts crushed at my torso, glass shattered all around me, and the world went dark.
Copper, thick, warm, and tangy.
It filled my mouth, stank metallic in my nose, clogged my throat, choking me. In the murkiness, I fought for a surface, for a way out, blind and numb in the dark.
This way, kleineun.
My ouma’s voice echoed from somewhere in the shadows.
This way.
Both eyes flew open, and I gagged, spitting out a stream of red.
Pain throbbed in my ribs, and a heavy pressure sent a tingling numbness through my shoulders. Blood roared inside my temples, and stars danced before my eyes with a dizzying array. Humid night air kissed my skin, and something sticky coated my face, neck, and arms that hung straight up toward the ceiling.
Wait. Not up. Down.
I blinked at the wrinkled, torn ceiling of the cockpit, the glass all gone, the gray aluminum shredded like tissue paper. Just outside the broken windows, thick Appalachian bluegrass and stemmy underbrush swished in a feeble breeze, backlit by flashes of lightning from the thunderstorm overhead. Green and brown leaves covered everything in a wet carpet of triangles, and somewhere nearby, a cricket chirped.
Turning my head from side to side, I realized that I hung upside down inside the ruined helicopter, the top half burrowed into the mud. I could hear the hissing and crackling of flames, the pattering of rain falling on the hot aluminum, and the smaller brush fires around the downed aircraft sizzling out in the damp long grass. Charred steel and burning oil tainted the air, almost as strong as the metallic, coppery stench in my aching nose.
They shot me down. That military dude shot me out of the sky.
It didn’t make sense. I’d followed their orders, done everything they’d said, and yet the instant I veered safely away from whatever that thing in the sky had been, they’d fired, not at it, but at me.
Looking down (or rather, up) at my chest, I sucked in a gasp, which was harder to do that before.
The navy-blue shirt stuck to my torso with several big splotches of dark, rusty red. Most were clean slashes, but two held bits of glass sticking out of them, one alarmingly bigger than the other. They dripped cherry red blood onto my upturned face, and a wave of nausea hit me.
I gotta get down.
I flexed my arms to try and work some feeling back into them, praying nothing was broken. Half-numb from hanging so long, I palmed along my aching body until I felt the buckled for the seat belts.
“Okay.” I hissed between gritted teeth, in an effort to stave off my panic. “You can do this. Just hold on tight. Nice and tight. Here we go . . .”
Click.
Everything seemed to lurch, and I slid off the seat to plummet towards the muck-filled hole in the cockpit ceiling. My fingers were slick with blood and slipped over the smooth faux-leather pilot’s seat with ease. The shoulder belt snagged on the bits of glass that lay just under the left lowest rib, and a flare of white-hot pain ripped through me.
Wham.
I screamed, my right knee caught the edge of the aluminum ceiling, and both hands dove into a mound of leaf-covered glass shards on the opposite side of the hole. My head swam, being right-side-up again enough to make shadows gnaw at the corner of my eyes.
Forcing myself to breath slowly, I fought the urge to faint and slid back to sit on the smooth ceiling. I turned my hands over to see half a dozen bits of clear glass burrowed into my skin like greedy parasites, red blood weeping around the new cuts.
“Screw you.” I spat at the rubbish with angry tears in my eyes. “Screw you, screw you, screw you.”
The shards came out easy enough, and the cuts weren’t that deep, but that wasn’t what worried me. On my chest, the single piece of cockpit glass that remined was almost as big as my palm, and it really hurt. Just touching it felt like self-inflicted torture, but I knew it had to come out sooner or later.
Please don’t nick a vein.
Wiping my hands dry on my jeans, I gripped the shard with both hands, and jerked.
Fire roared over my ribs, and hot blood tickled my already grimy pale skin. I clapped a hand over the wound, pressing down hard, and grunted out a string of hateful expletives that my ouma would have slapped me for.
Lying on my back, I stared around me at the messy cargo compartment of the MD-902. Most of the medical supplies had been in cardboard boxes strapped down with heavy nylon tow-straps, but several cases had ruptured with the force of the impact, spraying bandages, syringes, and pill bottles all over the cluttered interior. Orange flames chewed at the crate furthest to the rear, the tail section long gone, but the foremost part of the hold was intact. Easily a million-dollar mess, it would have made me faint on any other trip, but today it was a godsend.
Half-blind in the darkness, I crawled along with only the firelight and lightning bolts to guide me, my right knee aching. Like a crippled raccoon, I collected things as I went, conscious of the two pallets of intact supplies weighing right over my head. I’d taken several different first-aid courses with some hunting buddies of mine, and the mental reflexes kicked in to help soothe my frazzled mind.
Check for bleeds, stop the worst, then move on.
Aside from my battered chest and stomach, the rest of me remained mostly unharmed. I had nasty bruises from the seatbelts, my right knee swelled, my nose slightly crooked and crusted in blood, but otherwise I was intact. Dowsing every scratch and cut with a bottle of isopropyl alcohol I found, I used butterfly closures on the smaller lacerations that peppered my skin. I wrapped soft white gauze over my abused palms and probed at the big cut where the last shard had been, only stopping when I was sure there were no pieces of glass wedged inside my flesh.
“Not too bad.” I grunted to myself, trying to sound impassive like a doctor might. “Rib must have stopped it. Gonna need stitches though. That’ll be fun.”
Pawing through the broken cases, I couldn’t find any suture chord, but just as I was about to give up, I noticed a small box that read ‘medical skin stapler’.
Bingo.
I tore the small white plastic stapler free from its packaging and eyeballed the device. I’d never done this before, only seen it in movies, and even though the cut in my skin hurt, I wondered if this wouldn’t be worse.
You’ve gotta do it. That bleeding needs to stop. Besides, no one’s coming to rescue you, not with those rocket-launching psychos out there.
Taking a deep breath, I pinched the skin around the gash together, and pressed the mouth of the stapler to it.
Click.
A sharp sting, like that of a needle bit at the skin, but it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the cut itself. I worked my way across the two-inch laceration and gave out a sigh of relief when it was done.
“Not going to bleed to death today.” I daubed ointment around the staples before winding more bandages over the wound.
Popping a few low-grade painkillers that tumbled from the cargo, I crawled wriggled through the nearest shattered window into the wet grass.
Raindrops kissed my face, clean and cool on my sweaty skin. Despite the thick cloud cover, there was enough constant lightning strikes within the storm to let me get glimpses of the world around me. My helicopter lay on its back, the blades snapped like pencils, with bits and pieces of it burning in chunks all around the small break in the trees. Chest-high scrub brush grew all around the low-lying ground, with pockets of standing water in places. My ears still rang from the impact of the crash, but I could start to pick up more crickets, frogs, and even some nocturnal birds singing into the darkness, like they didn’t notice the huge the hulk of flaming metal that had fallen from the sky. Overhead, the thunder rumbled onward, the feeble wind whistling, and there were other flashes on the horizon, orange and red ones, with crackles that didn’t sound quite like lightning.
The guns. They’re still fighting.
Instinctively, I pulled out my cellphone, and tapped the screen.
It fluttered to life, but no matter how I tried, I couldn’t get through to anyone, not even with the emergency function designed to work around having no service. The complicated wonder of our modern world was little better than a glorified paperweight.
Stunned, I sat down with my back to the helicopter and rested my head against the aluminum skin of the craft. How I’d gone from a regular medical supply run to being marooned in this hellish parody of rural America, I didn’t know, but one thig was certain; I needed a plan. Whoever fired the missile could have already contacted my charter company and made up some excuse to keep them from coming to look for me. No one else knew I was here, and even though I now had six staples holding the worst of my injuries shut, I knew I needed proper medical attention. If I wanted to live, I’d have to rescue myself.
My bag. I need to get my go-bag, grab some gear and then . . . head somewhere else.
It took me a while to gather my green canvas paratrooper bag from its place behind the pilot’s seat and fill it with whatever supplies I could scrounge. My knee didn’t seem to be broken, but man did it hurt, and I dreaded the thought of walking on it for miles on end. I focused instead on inventorying my gear and trying to come up with a halfway intelligent plan of action.
I had a stainless-steel canteen with one of those detachable cups on the bottom, a little fishing kit, some duct tape, a lighter, a black LED flashlight with three spare batteries, a few tattered road maps with a compass, a spare pair of socks, medical supplies from the cargo, and a simple forest green plastic rain poncho. I also managed to unearth a functioning digital camcorder my ouma had gotten me for Christmas a few years back, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to do any filming in such a miserable state. Lastly, since it was a private supply run from a warehouse area near Pittsburgh to a direct hospital pad in Ohio, I’d been able to bring my K-Bar, a sturdy, and brutally simple knife designed for the Marine Corps that I used every time I went camping. It was pitiful in comparison to the rifle I wished I had with me, but that didn’t matter now. I had what I had, and I doubted my trusty Armalite would have alleviated my sore knee anyway.
Clicking on my flashlight, I huddled with the poncho around my shoulders inside the wreck of the chopper and peered at the dusty roadmaps. A small part of me hoped that a solution would jump out from the faded paper, but none came. These were all maps of western PA and eastern Ohio. None of them had a Barron County on them anywhere.
The man on the radio said to head north, right before they shot me down. That means they must be camped out to the north of here. South had that convoy and those burning houses, so that’s a no-go. Maybe I can backtrack eastward the way I came.
As if on cue, a soft pop echoed from over the eastern horizon, and I craned to look out the helicopter window, spotting more man-made flashes over the tree tops.
“Great.” I hissed between clenched teeth, aware of how the temperature dipped to a chilly 60 degrees, and how despite the conditions, my stomach had begun to growl. “Not going that way, are we? Westward it is.”
Walking away from my poor 902 proved to be harder than I’d anticipated. Despite the glass, the fizzling fires, and the darkness, it still held a familiar, human essence to it. Sitting inside it made me feel secure, safe, even calm about the situation. In any other circumstance, I would have just stayed with the downed aircraft to wait for help, but I knew the men who shot me down would likely find my crash site, and I didn’t want to be around when they did.
Unlike much of central and western Ohio, southeastern Ohio is hilly, brushy, and clogged with thick forests. Thorns snagged at my thin poncho and sliced at my pant legs. My knee throbbed, every step a form of self-inflicted torture. The rain never stopped, a steady drizzle from above just cold enough to be problematic as time went on, making me shiver. Mud slid under my tennis shoes, and every tree looked ten times bigger in the flickering beam of my cheap flashlight. Icy fear prickled at the back of my neck at some of the sounds that greeted me through the gloom. I’d been camping loads of times, both in Pennsylvania and elsewhere, but these noises were something otherworldly to me.
Strange howls, screeches, and calls permeated the rain-soaked sky, some almost roars, while others bordered on human in their intonation. The more I walked, the softer the distant gunfire became, and the more prevalent the odd sounds, until the shadows seemed to fill with them. I didn’t dare turn off my flashlight, or I’d been completely blind in the dark, but a little voice in the back of my head screamed that I was too visible, crunching through the gloomy forest with my long beam of light stabbing into the abyss. It felt as though a million eyes were on me, studying me, hunting me from the surrounding brush, and I bitterly recalled how much I’d loved the old Survivor Man TV series as a kid.
Not so fun being out in the woods at night. Especially alone.
A twig snapped somewhere behind me, and I whirled on the spot, one trembling hand resting on the hilt of my K-Bar.
Nothing. Nothing but trees, bushes, and rain dripping down in the darkness.
“This is stupid.” I whispered to myself to keep my nerves in check as I slowly spun on the spot. “I should have went eastward anyway. God knows how long I’m going to have to—”
Creak.
A groan of metal-on-metal echoed from somewhere to my right, and I spun to face it, yanking the knife on my belt free from its scabbard. It felt so small and useless in my hand, and I choked down a wave of nauseas fear.
Ka-whump. Creak. K-whump. Creak.
Underbrush cracked and crunched, a few smaller saplings thrashed, and from deep within the gloom, two yellow orbs flared to life. They poked through the mist in the trees, forming into slender fingers of golden light that swept back and forth in the dark.
The soldiers . . . they must be looking for me.
I swallowed hard and turned to slink away.
Ice jammed through my blood, and I froze on the spot, biting my tongue to stop the scream.
It stood not yards away, a huge form that towered a good twelve feet tall in the swirling shadows. Unpolished chrome blended with flash-rusted spots in the faded red paint, and grime-smeared glass shone with dull hues in the flashes of lightning. Where the wheels should have been, the rounded steel axels curved like some enormous hand had bent them, and the tires lay face-down on the muddy ground like big round feet, their hubcaps buried in the dirt. Dents, scrapes, and chips covered the battered thing, and its crooked little radio antenna pointed straight up from the old metal fender like a mast. I could barely make out the mud-coated VW on the rounded hood, and my mind reeled in shock.
Is . . . is that a car?
Both yellow headlights bathed me in a circle of bright, blinding light, and neither I nor the strange vehicle moved.
Seconds ticked by, the screech-thumping in the background only growing closer. I realized that I couldn’t hear any engine noises and had yet to see any soldiers or guns pointed my way. This car looked old, really old, like one of those classic Volkswagen Beetles that collectors fought over at auctions. Try as I might, I couldn’t see a driver inside the murky, mold-smeared windows.
Because there wasn’t one.
Lightning arched across the sky overhead, and the car standing in front of me blinked.
Its headlights slid shut, as if little metal shades had crawled over the bulbs for a moment and flicked open again. Something about that movement was so primal, so real, so lifelike, that every ounce of self-control I had melted in an instant.
Cursing under my breath, I lunged into the shrubs, and the world erupted around me.
Under my shoes, the ground shook, and the car surged after me in a cacophony of ka-thumps that made my already racing heart skip several beats. A weather-beaten brown tow truck from the 50’s charged through the thorns to my left, it’s headlights ablaze, and a dilapidated yellow school bus rose from its hiding place in the weeds to stand tall on four down-turned axel-legs. They all flicked their headlights on like giants waking from their slumber, and as I dodged past them, they each blared their horn into the night in alarm.
My breaths came short and tight, my knee burned, and I crashed through thorns and briars without thought to how badly I was getting cut up.
The cheap poncho tore, and I ripped it away as it caught on a tree branch.
A purple 70’s Mustang shook off its blanket of creeping vines and bounded from a stand of trees just ahead, forcing me to swerve to avoid being run over, my adrenaline at all-time highs.
This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.
Slipping and sliding, I pushed through a stand of multiflora rose, and stumbled out into a flat, dark expanse.
I almost skidded to a stop.
What had once been a rather large field stood no taller than my shoestrings, the grass charred, and burnt. The storm above illuminated huge pieces of wreckage that lay scattered over the nearly 40-acre plot, and I could just make out the fire-blackened hulk of a fuselage resting a hundred yards away. The plane had been brought down a while ago it seemed, as there weren’t any flames left burning, and I threw myself toward it in frenzied desperation.
Burned grass and greasy brown topsoil slushed underfoot, and I could hear the squelching of the cars pursing me. Rain soaked me to the bone, and my lungs ached from sucking down the damp night air. A painful stich crept into my side, and I cursed myself for not putting in more time for cardio at the gym.
Something caught my left shoelace, and I hurtled to the ground, tasting mud and blood in between my teeth.
They’ve got me now.
I clawed at the mud, rolled, and watched a tire slam down mere inches from where my head had been. The Mustang loomed over me and jostled for position with the red Volkswagen and brown tow truck, the school bus still a few yards behind them. They couldn’t seem to decide who would get the pleasure of stomping me to death, and like a herd of stampeding wildebeest, they locked bumpers in an epic shoving match.
On all fours, I scampered out from under the sparring brutes, and dashed for the crumpled airplane, a white-painted DC-3 that looked like it had been cut in half by a gargantuan knife blade. I passed a snapped wing section, the oily remains of a turbo-prop engine, and a mutilated wheel from the landing gear. Climbing over a heap of mud, I squeezed into the back of the ruined flight cabin and dropped down into the dark cargo hold.
Wham.
No sooner had my sneakers hit the cold metal floor, and the entire plane rocked from the impact of something heavy ramming it just outside. I tumbled to my knees, screaming in pain as, once again, I managed to bash the sore one off a bracket in the wall.
My hand smeared in something gooey, and I scrabbled for my flashlight.
It clicked on, a wavering ball of white light in the pitch darkness, and I fought the urge to gag. “Oh man . . .”
Three people, or what was left of them, lay strewn over the narrow cargo area. Claret red blood coated the walls, caked on the floor, and clotted under my mud-spattered shoes. Bits of flesh and viscera were stuck to everything, and tatters of cloth hung from exposed sections of broken bone. An eerie set of bloody handprints adorned the walls, and the only reason I could tell it had been three people were the shoes; all of them bore anklebones sticking out above blood-soaked socks. It smelled sickly sweet, a strange, nauseas odor that crept into my nose and settled on the back of my tongue like an alien parasite.
Something glinted in the beam of my flashlight, and my pulse quickened as I pried the object loose from the severed arm that still clung to it.
“Hail Mary full of Grace.” I would have grinned if it weren’t for the fact that the plane continued to buck and roll under the assault from the cars outside.
The pistol looked old, but well-maintained, aside from the light coating of dark blood that stained its round wooden handle. It felt heavy, but good in my hand, and I turned it over to read the words, Waffenfabrik Mauser stenciled into the frame, with a large red 9 carved into the grip. For some reason, it vaguely reminded me of the blasters from Star Wars.
I fumbled with a little switch that looked like a safety on the back of the gun and stumbled toward a gap in the plane’s dented fuselage to aim out at the surrounding headlights.
Bang.
The old gun bucked reliably in my hand, its long barrel spitting a little jet of flame into the night. I had no idea if I hit anything, but the attacking cars recoiled, their horns blaring in confusion.
They turned, and scuttled for the tree line as fast as their mechanical legs could go, the entire ordeal over as fast as it had begun.
Did I do that?
Perplexed, I stared down at the pistol in my hand.
Whoosh.
A large, inky black shadow glided down from the clouds, and the yellow school bus moved too slow to react in time.
With a crash, the kicking nightmarish vehicle was thrown onto its side, spraying glass and chrome trim across the muddy field. Its electro-synth horn blared with wails of mechanical agony, as two huge talon-like feet clamped down on it, and the enormous head of the flying creature lowered to rip open its engine compartment.
The horn cut out, and the enormous flying entity jerked its head back to gulp down a mass of what looked like sticky black vines from the interior of the shattered bus.
At this range, I could see now that the flying creature bore two legs and had its wings half-tucked like a vulture that had descended to feed on roadkill. Its head turned slightly, and in the glow of another lightning bolt, my jaw went slack at the realization of what it was.
A tree trunk. It’s a rotted tree trunk.
I couldn’t tell where the reptilian beast began, and where the organic tree components ended, the upper part of the head shaped like a log, while the lower jaw resembled something out of a dinosaur movie. Its skin looked identical to the outside of a shagbark hickory but flexed with a supple featheriness that denoted something closer to skin. Sharp branch-like spines ranged down its back, and out to the end of its tail, which bore a massive round club shaped like a diseased tree-knot. Crouched on both hind legs, it braced the hooked ends of its folded wings against the ground like a bat, towering higher than a semi-truck. Under the folds of its armored head, a bulging pair of chameleon-like eyes constantly spun in their sockets, probing the dark for threats while it ate.
One black pupil locked onto the window I peered through, and my heart stopped.
The beast regarded me for a moment, making a curious, sideways sniff.
With a proud, contemptful head-toss, the shadow from the sky parted rows of razor-sharp teeth to let out a roar that shook the earth beneath my feet. It was the triumphant war cry of a creature that sat at the very top of the food chain, one that felt no threat from the fragile two-legged beings that walked the earth all around it. It hunted whenever it wanted, ate whatever it wanted, and flew wherever it wanted. It didn’t need to rip the plane apart to devour me.
Like my hunter-gatherer ancestors from thousands of years ago, I wasn’t even worth the energy it would take to pounce.
I’m hiding in the remains of the cockpit now, which is half-buried under the mud of the field, enough to shield the light from my screen so that thing doesn’t see it. My service only now came back, and it’s been over an hour since the winged beast started in on the dead bus. I don’t know when, or how I’m going to get out of here. I don’t know when anyone will even see this post, or if it will upload at all. My phone battery is almost dead, and at this point, I’m probably going to have to sleep among the corpses until daylight comes.
A dead man sleeping amongst friends.
If you live in the Noble County area in southeastern Ohio, be careful where you drive, fly, and boat. I don’t know if it’s possible to stumble into this strange place by ground, but if so, then these things are definitely headed your way.
If that happens . . . pray that they don’t find you.

tw: verbal abuse
is it normal for parents to call their children bad or mean names out of anger?
earlier i got into a fight with my parents, especially with my dad. i was in my parents’ room kasi because i wanted to hang out and bond with them (and i also had nothing else to do). i thought it was the least thing i could do before they sleep and i can lock the doors afterwards. while i was in their room, they were watching tv kasi. my dad went on youtube and he was talking about how reliable this one youtube channel is because sa youtuber na yun, dun nanggagaling yung mga celebrity chismis, etc, kahit most (if not all) of it is based sa opinion lang (kasi nga chismis).
etong dad ko, he was looking for a video to watch dun sa dami ng mga celebrity chismis youtube channel sa homepage niya kasi. bakit daw namatay si coco martin ganon blah blah or bakit daw makukulong si ganito ganun kahit walang actual news outlets na nagre-release ng ganung balita. sa akin lang naman, it’s okay to watch those… pero watch with caution. i then told my dad that as a lighthearted advice and he took it differently. he started saying na “reliable” naman daw si [youtuber na may chismis content] kasi sa kanya mismo raw nanggagaling yung chismis, and may contact daw siya sa mga celebrities na yun. sabi ko na that’s his opinion and i respect it, and dinidiin talaga ng dad ko na hindi siya opinion, but facts kahit chismis siya?
take note na hindi lang siya pati nanay ko avid watcher rin ng channel na yun. a little chismis here and there is good, pero to say that chismis are facts is very laughable 💀 as a humss student nung senior high, i’m just really disappointed (i think anyone would be)
it came to the point na my mom has been calling me disrespectful for talking back because mas nakakatanda raw sila sakin and that if i respect his opinion daw, i should just “shut up.”
what hurt even more is that biglang nag-a-ad hominem tong tatay ko and started blurting out things na hindi connected sa situation, like saying na hindi ako pumasa ng UP at Ateneo kaya wala naman akong kaalam-alam at wala akong karapatan magsalita about fact-checking. this hurt me a lot because they know that when the news broke out it tore me apart for weeks. i did pass the other two Big 4 schools and other schools i applied to (maliban lang talaga sa UP and ADMU) pero even if i didn’t, sobrang unnecessary nung sinabi niya. tinawav niya akong bobo at walang mararating sa buhay.
yun lang. i apologize if i may mga grammatical errors or typos. hindi ko na babasahin ulit to bc medyo fresh and hurtful pa rin sakin yung situation. and if binasa mo hanggang dulo, thank you so much for reading :)

Hello! So yung laptop ko kasi medyo moody siya. May mga times na mabilis naman/okay naman siya, may times na bearable pa yung miliseconds na lag, pero maraming times na super naglalag/crash siya especially pag nagmumulti-task na ako and clutch moments na :(( Mostly ginagamit ko lang naman ito for canva, ms office, google suite mainly for acads. Dahil dito, marami akong di nagagawang tasks on-time and it really affects my level of productivity. Also grabe yung kaba ko lagi kapag ako magshashare-screen sa zoom kasi apart from the pressure of being the reporter ay dumadagdag pa yung anxiety na baka magcrash yung laptop ko :(( Ginagawa ko nalang ay mine-make sure ko na yung zoom app lang nakabukas.
With this, I am seeking for your insights/advice kung ano kayang mas better option: to upgrade the RAM and SSD ng current laptop ko or bili nalang ako ng second hand laptop with better specs instead? As someone on a tight budget, atm itong dalawa lang nakikita kong option. :<< Pero if may iba kayong alam na option, please drop them lang.
---
About my current laptop:
- bought it bnew in 2019
- 500 GB HDD
- 4 GB RAM
- Intel Celeron N400 :((

Husband has a job offer in both Vermont and Maine. We are originally from Northeast PA and have lived in the south for several years and hate it. I grew up in a very rural area and spent summers in Maine for work for several years and miss it. My family now lives near Albany, so closer to VT.
Job in VT offered less money, better health insurance (we have children). Maine job (near Portland) seems so much easier to find housing, but the insurance is so bad and politically I feel like VT would better suit us after dying politically in the south for several years.
Any advice? Is housing as dire in VT as I know it is? I basically only see apartments in Burlington. I am sorry we are flatlanders, we both do essential teaching and medical jobs and promise we will integrate into the community well.

Hulingnsem ko na to sa UP. 1st year palang ako at nahirapan na talaga ako from the get go due to adjustment, homesickness, personal problems, etc. I incurred 2 failing grades last sem and feel ko meron na naman akong bagsak ngayong sem. I’m pretty sure na terminated na ang scholarship ko kahit nagappeal naman ako. Acceptance stage na ko HAHAHAHAH. I talked to my mom back then about me studying somewhere else na private, na mas student friendly pero just as educationally competent as UP. Di ko lang alam kung sa campus lang namin tong engineering pero like sobrang bigat talaga. In a sem sa engineering course ko, may physics lecture and lab, chem lecture and lab, math na may limits & derivatives tsaka integral calculus, plus isang major pa sa mismong engineering course, and GEs. When i looked at the curriculum of engineering courses from other universities. 1st sem nila ay chem lecture and lab tapos math nila ay limits & derivatives tapos sa 2nd sem naman nila yung physics lecture and lab tapos integral calculus naman para sa math nila. Ngayong 2nd sem ko sa up, nagttake ako ng subject which is for 2nd or 3rd yr na sa engineering ng ibang school. Hindi ko talaga gets ang system ng pahirapan sa up. Sa sobrang fast paced and congested curriculum, maraming students ang hindi nakakakeep up at napipilitang magretake. Tapos hindi pa ibig sabihin na makakagraduate ka ng mas mabilis compared sa ibang schools dahil sa speed ng curriculum. Kasi mas malaki pa nga yung chance na madelay dahil sa agawan ng units HAHAHAHA. Isa pa yon, hindi block sectioning at kusang ibinibigay yung subjects... Nahihirapan talaga ako sa ganyang set-up kasi i’m not good at keeping relationships with people na minsan ko lang makita, wala naman akong super classmate so i don’t really have friends. Other people suggested that i join orgs, pero i really can’t find the time to do that kasi busy sa acads. Yung tipong aral ka nang aral pero hindi parin nagrreflect yung efforts mo, how much more pa kaya pag hinati mo oras mo sa org 🥲. Tapos nakakainis talaga tong campus namin sa sobrang lawak. May dalawa akong subject na magkasunod at walang break in between tapos halos 2km apart at di pa dumadaan jeep so tinatakbuhan ko at pagkadating ko sa next class laging may quiz tsaka pawis na pawis na ako HAHAHAHAHA. Well kasalanan ko naman na pinili ko yung sched na yon. Kasalanan ko din kasi retake yung isang subject dyan. kasalanan ko din na hindi ako nagresearch tungkol sa sistema at campus ng UP. Di ko akalaing ganto pala mangyayari sakin 1st year palang. Kaya napakalaking regret ko sa hindi pagsunod sa sabi ng mom ko na papaaralin nalang ako sa isang private university tapos gagawan nalang daw nila ng paraan para sa tuition ganon. Kaso mas pinili ko UP kasi libre... Hindi talaga biro yung kasabihan na kaluluwa yung ipangbabayad mo 😭. At least sa private university na yon, less workload kasi trisem. Tapos yung math daw nila sa engineering nagsstart sa algebra so start from the basics and sakto lang yung pacing. But to enjoy all of that, abot langit yung tuition huhu. Ngayon I can’t choose that school kasi namamahalan na talaga ako sa tuition lalo na’t sobrang baba na ng chance na maretain ko yung scholarship. Nagsuggest ako ng isa pang university na maganda which has a relatively lower tuition fee of about 400k for the entirety of the engineering course. Naiyak talaga ako sa mom ko nung sinabi ko na mawawalan ata ako ng scholarship. Pero kinapalan ko pa mukha ko para magtanong kung kaya ba akong ipaaral sa private university kasi hindi ko na talaga nakikita sarili ko na magthrive dito sa UP. Sorry ako nang sorry sa mom ko kasi ako sumunod sa kanya nung sinabi nyang wag daw ako mag up kasi malayo etc. Baka sana hindi ako napadpad sa situation ko ngayon. Eh tong rebel teen that time nung application process ayaw talagang sumunod HAHAHAHAHA yan tuloy. Anyway, nagtanong ako kung kakayanin ba namin na magaral ako sa sinuggest kong private university tapos sinabi nya na kakayanin daw. I love my mom so much, magpapakabait talaga ako paguwi ko ngayong summer at gawin ko lahat ng gawaing bahay kasi mga tamad kapatid ko HAHAHAHAHA. It’s the least i could do in exchange for the understanding and support of my parents. I’ll make sure to do well in my next school, since ngayon alam ko na how college works. I’ll also try to make connections para di naman masayang ang pagiging private uni HAHAHAHHA. Hindi ko sasayangin tong second chance na binigay nila sakin. At hindi pwedeng di ako makahanap ng magandang trabaho after all the sacrifices my parents did for me. Nakakaguilty talaga kasi may mga kapatid pa din akong nagaaral at ako yung unang ggraduate if ever since mag memedschool ang isa kong kapatid. Need ko marepay pamilya ko not because of obligation, but because of gratitude. I really hope I do well in this new chapter of my life. Thank you UP for all the life lessons i’ve gathered during my stay. Don’t get me wrong, I still believe UP is a great school, it’s just not suited for someone like me hehe. Kasi hindi naman ibig sabihin na pag kaya ng iba ay dapat kaya mo rin. Congrats sa lahat na nageexcel sa UP, built diff talaga kayo HAHAHAHAH sobrang nakakahanga! Anyway, naparant lang ako dito bigla XD. I hope wala akong naoffend dito dahil sa mga sinabi ko. First time kong magrant online ng ganto so sana di ako mabash kajsjahshs.
TL;DR
Di ko kinaya anf sistema ng UP due to several reasons. Planning to transfer to another university for a fresh start.