Random Life Stories and Unpredictable Moments

When I come to the U.S., I was only 8 years old. My mom and dad bring me and my little sister from Mexico, saying we gonna have better life, better future. I believe them, I really do. But now, I am 26, and sometimes, I still don’t feel like I belong here. I do everything like American people—I go school here, I work here, I even speak English good (okay, not perfect, but good enough, I think). But still, when people look at me, I know they see different. They ask me, "Where you from?" and when I say, "Oh, I grew up here," they just look at me like they don’t believe me. Like I have to explain more. Sometimes I say, "I’m from Mexico," just to make it easy, but then they ask, "Oh, so you not American?" And I don’t know what to say. What I am? I am both. But also, maybe neither.

Life as first generation immigrant is... weird. I grow up in house where everything is Mexican—food, music, telenovelas, my parents speaking Spanish all the time. But outside, everything is American. I go to school, and kids make fun of my lunch because it smell “weird.” Teachers say my name wrong, so I stop correcting them. I try so hard to fit in, but at home, my mom tell me, "No te olvides de dónde vienes." Don’t forget where you come from. And I try, but sometimes I feel like I am too Mexican for Americans, but too American for Mexicans. I go back to visit family in Mexico, and my cousins laugh at my Spanish. "Hablas como gringo," they say. They right, I guess. But then here, people tell me, "Wow, your English is so good!" like they surprise. So, what am I? Where do I belong? I don’t know. And maybe, I never will.

So... I can no longer cry.

I used to cry as much as a normal kid, but my parents (my mum specifically) started yelling at me for crying. When my brother and I would argue, she always took his side even if he was arguing that 2+2=8 then yell at me. When i started crying after ~15-30 mins of her straight screaming at me, she would tell me that "crying is going to get you nowhere so be quiet" and that "there is no reason for you to be crying because you're in the wrong. you are going to get in more trouble after this if you keep this up". and so on. those were some of the lighter ones but you get the picture. she would tell me that crying was useless and weak and that it would get me nowhere. i started coming up with little ways to slow it down like holding my breath and blurring my eyes without letting the tears fall, or even running to the bathroom, wiping my eyes and coming back out. BTW, i was 5. then by the time i had learned to control my tears completely (at around 8) i started getting angrier easily as a way of coping. ofc my parents got mad for that even more than crying so now i'm almost emotionless. when my mum yells at me she now gets upset because i don't react. i will remain completely calm as if i dont gaf, then my mum will give up and my dad will get mad at me for not reacting.

this all seems good except for the fact that now when i am deppressed, i can't let it out at all. it is worse than you'd expect. basically, i feel everything worse but don't show it. it just goes into an invisible jar with everything else i've stored over the years. i'm 12 now and i sriously don't know what to do right now. on top of a whole lot of other things i hae going on rn, this is getting too much, even for me. and i don't crack.

is this normal or what bcz all my friends can cry. does anyone have any solution or any ideas? im trying here.

luv you guys and thanks for reading this ik its alot.

Pls read this.

It's now 2026. I'm gonna be 14 in February. I fucking hate this. The future, it's too unpredictable! Like, I can survive. I’m weird if I do my own thing. Who notices the cleaners or waitresses or maids? I’m gonna be okay because no one can hurt me, because they don’t notice me. Best thing I can also do is not go to college either, most successful people dropped out and went their own paths. I’m going my own path, just a slower one, of giving up the risky waters. No one swims in Mangalore seas, those who do are idiots, just wanting to play with their own life. Who even wants to learn about marine life, or history? Seriously, only history you learn from is this kind and how likable you are. I should care what others think, my dad’s wrong to say no to that. Who’d wanna learn about Vietnam or Thailand or India, most them are anyways mean, rude and like polluting the ground. Those who do doctorates for literal fish, to others, it’d be weird. I won’t be word nor trendy, just nothing. It’s easier than being both lanes, anyways. Most kids after realizing they can never be a cool kid from a weird kid soon chose the beige route, at least that’s still a color. You said I’m allowed to be a nobody, I can live with that forever, considering I already ate up 7 years. It’s not judgement, it’s grace on my part, just like giving up. I’m allowed to just be a no one. I can endure, people can sit with that. They don’t sing, “I’m a survivor, I’m not gonna give up” for no reason! I can manage. It ain’t even that bad. Humans are resistible. I can live with being nothing to others, be in routine. Unshakable but predictable routine. Many people live like that. You may say I’m 13, but trust me, I can be smart like that. I just need to remove my curiosity, that intrusive aspect of me to come out of my safe space and be hurt. Don’t go to college, wake up, pass school, form no friendships, eat, sleep, bathe, relieve myself, work in some small job till I finish whatever mortgage and rent I have until I’m 64, so it all over again from 18-64, assuming my work life lasts that long.

See! People are a liability! I can be me to me only! People can live long fulfilling less without these burdens. People really are hell, Sartre was right. I can be rigid, have my own fun life and be with no one, they’re worthless anyways. They all judge, so why bother looking even for one person if it doesn’t exist? You literally said, “Humans don’t need applause, but we do need some meaning. Meaning doesn’t have to come from people, but it has to come from somewhere. Fish, oceans, history, art, dolls, stories. Those are not liabilities. They are anchors.” I’ve had them all my life. I can live with them, make them my friends, since people are a waste. I may be able to survive this year, but I can thrive the rest by this routine! You said people are optional, so why bother with any kind of relationship? Most successful people don’t even have sustainable relationships with people! I can make with next year! I’m 13, I can deal with it. How am I even wrong to say people are hell? You said I’m allowed to not like people, so that means I can handle no one. They all suck anyways. If I want someone as a friend, it won’t matter because it won’t last. I just know it. It’ll be that way. I won’t be surprised by good person who stays because they don’t exist. That’s in movies only where someone is cool like that. Again, pure fiction. No matter how I act, nice or mean or quiet, I’m a nobody to them. It won’t last and it won’t matter. I hate seeing friend groups because they feel stupid. I’m a proud incel girl. I can be a fucking incel, I'm 13.5, it's a good fucking title for me.

See? People are a risk. I can live like an introvert. Work, eat, sleep 7 hours, watch some favorite stuff, draw, repeat. It’s a life many adults do anyways for a while. Look what traveling did to me, it made me sick. Only bad thing now is I’m going to a new home in a few months, which I have to convince my parents somehow I should stay here, my original home. If some real kids can convince their parents not to divorce, I can convince them to not leave and just have them you know, stay and enjoy their investment of the house, even though they spent money on it. I’m smart for saying moving is bad. The kids there will look at me weird, and even if I’m in the same school, I don’t care. New big neighborhood men’ means it’s a social death sentence for me. I’m allowed to stay at home. My original home is safe. You said I CAN not make any friends, so that means I CAN not seek out anyone unless it’s a doctor or anything, but driving, work people, friends, restaurant workers, nope. I’m not gonna drive, I’m not gonna go to college, or pursue any of my interests. Just be a cashier, it’s low stakes and nobody cares for me. Good. Good life. Then I can go home, draw, bathe, pay rent, eat dinner, and sleep. Be Yoshikage Kira, minus the murder aspect. Just have a quiet life and be the background guy forever. It’s easier. That’s my quest for stillness. I may want friends, but since life hasn’t given me any despite me changing, I just simply can’t get them, I’ll give that up and just study, just pass exams, somehow manage 9th grade in IGCSE from CBSE, somehow manage without my original tuition teacher, and just draw and watch stuff and walk in my house because it’s a villa, and even though it’s a big neighborhood, no. I don’t deserve to exist as myself, so I’ll just be the nobody’s of the world. I was nice, my classmates didn’t notice, I was mean, still. Quiet, still didn’t notice. I’d rather just leave at this point. Not life, but just being a person in society, just a person in outskirt city. I hate it when I see people smiling with friends because I know the truth, it’s not gonna last. Since nothing lasts, nothing matters. I’m 13 going to 9th in a bit, so this matters. The last thing to actually matter. Everything matters because we as humans have such short lives, despite everything being temporary. I’m 13, and in the next 10 years, I’ll live in the outskirts. I’ve already lived in the outskirts of school long enough, I’m used to it.

I don’t matter. No one liked me no matter how I acted. I just concluded I can be a wallflower forever. I’ve lived as one anyways long enough to get used to it being permanent. I’m a crazy diamond like Syd Barrett, eventually his reassignment was the reason his band succeeded. Only thing is at least they remembered Syd, who’d remember me and me where I was? My family won’t matter because when you’re an adult, you leave them behind. It’s what everyone does, no matter what dad says about “leaving if your job is also far away, but otherwise you can stay with them”. No. Just let me be still. Forever. I’ve died inside before I even got to see anything good, because it doesn’t exist. Now that we’re moving in a few months, it’s not a new leaf, it’s a new wasteland. A new bad land unless I stay behind in my home, which is 35 minutes away from the new place. Imagine the new kids there who are also disgusting monsters. They’ll only reject me because I know the truth, change is bad. Even before a child says hi to me, I need to role with an iron fist and fight them back with poisonous words, or push them if I have to. I don’t know, I’m scared of these freaks. My subconscious may want some peace, but we got to think logically about this. I’ve survived 7 years, I can survive the next of life. I’m not gonna stack now because I’m on a trip and I don’t see much kids unless they’re coming from school, which even then it disgusts me seeing them laughing together because they think it’s a good time that lasts for only 3 days.

My stupid subconscious may crave hope for one friend now that it’s a neighborhood, but I don’t like it. It’s proven wrong many times with horrid “SMALL TALK”, so I don’t believe it. I wish I had one person who would just leave me alone in this thought, and they’d agree. Too bad they’re not real. The Saya to me, the Fuminori. I wish I had a person who’d share this vision with me, and love me for thinking the same. They’d love me for hating this pathetic world, because they do too. I don’t care if it’s not healthy, if it isn’t, what’s the point of “health”? Humans are shits anyways. Why should I care if I want something better if it doesn’t exist? It’s like wanting a unicorn, it’s not real. Why search someone so fucking fake? My stupid self is that, stupid for wanting better, for believing they exist, for wanting to have another go and thinking that maybe moving a good idea. I’m tougher for saying it isn’t and being rigid. It’s immature of me to maybe look out for more, when there isn’t.

Too bad now in a few days I'm gonna go to a dumb dance class I only said yes to from mom is to please her. I don't believe I'm a good dancer, even fi the teacher said to mom I did an "advanced dance lesson" better than beginners. That's a fucking lie! I don't believe you because I don't believe myself! Those kids didn't laugh to seem respectful, they aren't being honest, they're trying to fake niceness. Just like fucking life. Where the pros treat the new guy with pity, I don't need fucking pity, I want people to berate me because that's honesty to me! And when someone hates the world and wants to burn it as much as I do, I'd be more than friends, because we share the same true vision of the "Earth". Too bad school itself is gonna start day after tomorrow, because guess what, there's the fucking rigged system! The ruler, the principal, may claim we are a united body, but we're all divided into cliques and crews, fuck her. I hope she suffers a painful death with HIV. Fuck the future, fuck the adults, and fuck anyone who isn't a Saya! Fuck!

So I'm trans for sure after much confusion, and I know I feel more comfortable as a guy than I do as a woman, but my issue is that I can't get any of the surgeries or even get on T to help how I feel about myself or my body because I am in a very religious family and currently living with Donald Trump supporters. I am actively looking for a job so I can move out, but no place seems to be accepting even if they are hiring, and I am just hating myself more and more because of the things my grandparents say. I'm not even sure if I could come out and not be kicked out. I just really needed to get this out someplace since I have been sitting with it since 2024.

Just the other day, my partner Sarah and I had one of our first big disagreements since moving into our new studio apartment together. It’s a cozy setup—just a single bedroom and bathroom—that had been working out pretty perfectly for the both of us until this issue popped up.

The conflict arose unexpectedly one evening as I was getting ready to call it a night. Sarah approached me, quite seriously, to discuss something that, to me, seemed rather odd. She expressed that she really wanted me to stop urinating while standing up. Her reasoning was that it’s unhygienic and she disliked the idea of possibly stepping into accidental spills.

I’ve always been considerate about making sure the bathroom remains clean, especially since we share such a small space. I'm careful not to leave any mess, always ensuring that nothing escapes the toilet bowl, and I make a point to flush with the lid down to keep things sanitary.

Nevertheless, Sarah was adamant. She wasn’t convinced by my assurances and reiterated her stance against me standing up to pee, branding it as gross regardless of how clean I kept things. This is where I found myself puzzled. After all, we split the rent equally, and it’s as much my home as it is hers. Surely, I thought, I should have the freedom to use our bathroom in a way that I find comfortable, especially if it doesn’t compromise cleanliness.

Imagine how this would blow up if it were captured on a reality TV show! The viewers would probably be divided, with some sympathizing with Sarah for advocating for cleanliness and others rooting for my right to convenience in my own home. It would definitely spark debates on living together etiquette and personal space.

Now, here I am, caught in this peculiar dilemma, questioning whether such a small aspect of our daily lives should really be causing such a big stir. It just seems somewhat ridiculous to me. What do you think? How would you handle this if you were in my shoes?

I just turned 13 and my family and I thought it would be good to host a birthday party for me they invited all my family to come over even friends I went to my room but then my uncle came in. I told him to leave multiple times because I was changing BUT HE WOULDNT WANT TO LEAVE I HATE HOW NO ONE NOTICED HE WAS IN THERE EVEN THOUGH I RAISED MY VOICE he trapped me in my room and he...🍇 me I hate it so much I hate how I let this happen to me I feel fucking disgusting I feel weak I feel horrible after that happen I didn't want to get out of my room I just wanted to hide under the bed like a scary bitch I am...after the birthday party i kept quiet for a couple days i told my dad BUT FCKING GUESS WHAT he didnt listen he just told me i need to be a man AND THAT I WAS LUCKY IT HAPPEND HOW COULD U SAY THAT TO UR SON WHAT THE FUCK I HATE EVERYONE I HATE MY FAMILY I HATE HIM I WANT TO KILL MYSELF NO ONE LISTENS ME

I feel like I have to distance myself from everyone when it comes to family. They are all extremely unprincipled, unvalued, and unmotivated people, people with very low self-esteem who like to subjugate others through their own actions. My experience at my aunt's house and the way my father underestimated the situation were outrageous to me, excessively so.

Simply, that fact represented the necessary distance between my father and me. Honestly, I'm not with anyone who defends people like my mother and applauds her way of life with her mother, who in my aunt's case would be her comrade. It's the worst thing I've ever experienced. Differences are absolutely unacceptable there.

In fact, I feel that's why it was hard for me to stay strong at work. Today, with the Papa thing up in the air, I ignored it, and I felt that the indifference toward my indifference on the matter hurt me deeply. I felt the need to do like the others. The worst part of all this is that my father, that family, would support this.

It's like feeling miserable for breaking the trend, even though it goes against my principles. It makes me feel insulted and at the same time outraged that I was raised by my relatives, who didn't instill in me the strength to be different, which I denigrate because it's causing me problems in terms of distinguishing myself as I am in front of others, thus facilitating clarity for generating respect in a pleasant and unforced way. The idea isn't to fall into the trap of others breaking with it in one way or another.

All of them, these relatives I mention, are people who indeed appear friendly and supportive, but they come across that way in every context, which is frightening and deceptive. Although it must be acknowledged that their appearance is so obvious that to an outsider it would be like that, except for me, who didn't see it because I had normalized it. In fact, I didn't notice what they were yelling at me from miles away. In fact, I did nothing about their inconsistencies and lived by not speaking to them or pointing them out; my life together was one of being estranged because they exposed them without any remorse in front of me, which is disrespectful given that it's a game with my stability, which they further embrace thanks to the fact that they didn't point it out or justify it in any way, keeping me between a rock and a hard place when I committed them, which is indeed unfair. I feel abused within these people.

I don't like living with them. In fact, I have to live in isolation, since being with them implies intentional and frequent deterioration, while in isolation the situation is the opposite, and also with recovery, which with them is condemned. I had never acknowledged it until now that I've grown up, but these relatives make me fearful of their dramatic behavior as well as their constant denials of reality, thus creating an absorbing environment, and of course, one responsible for producing this normalization. They are the family that has also proven to be the difference between me and my mother's, and it was precisely because of this disappointment that I couldn't easily disengage from them, unlike with my mother, with whom I saw it coming.

For a very long time, it has resulted in an obsession with me not to discover the family characteristics—in truth, everything they pointed out in my mother's family, through detours and conditioning. However, they haven't realized that this game of counter-current on my part is lucrative and leads to the exact opposite result, something they apparently fail to understand despite numerous tests and which, of course, is my guarantee of success. There have been numerous attempts to eradicate me with thought tools such as ignoring the microphone, tearing at my writing, breaking away from influential thinkers, and even degrading well-known figures, but all have been in vain. I don't see them understanding that going against the grain and being effective is the best thing. Furthermore, if there were any attempt to avoid them markedly, it would only result in anxiety problems, and that's precisely what they don't want to encounter again because it would lead to an overflow of their routine, and living with me consisted of adapting to it.

I don't know how my coworkers experienced the fact that I wasn't with them at their father's event, but I still recognize that I felt obligated to consent to or pay attention to a religion when I am practically an atheist. This is an issue that is also imposing on said family. That is, they always tell me "God bless you" when I am not part of the religion, and which results in a lack of respect, mainly on the part of my father, who asks me to let him give it to me, only for the purpose of falling under the suggestion that, in that regard, for a very long time for a long time, my relationship with my father has consisted of pure attempts at suggestion. For a long time now, I haven't been able to share time with my father, only to seek food, some income, and to be the recipient of his attempts at suggestion, gradually leading him to become disillusioned. In fact, this has been the way he has come to act in a disorganized and obvious way toward these attempts. It's been almost three years like this, yet I still don't understand how he can't realize that his attempts are in vain; I suppose it's justified by the fact that it's because of the love I once had for my family, and because of which he took advantage of the opportunity to distort me. Ironically, individuals like those who cause complications for their families by coming into conflict with their moral compass happened, even though they were also a person I respected. Personally, the fact that I continue in this mood seems amusing to me up to this point, as the sadness is extremely high, no longer destabilizing to the point of prostrating me, but rather a game in favor of my firmness.

When will my father learn his lesson? When will my aunt learn her lesson? He tried to lecture me, but she, unwittingly, was the one falling into the game, precisely so that I could distance myself from her, since my goal is to distance myself from this family. They are obsessed with preventing my departure, when it has already happened, and now I am merely a spectator, oblivious to them, just like any other ordinary citizen who visualizes them. In short: I can't help but hide the sun with a finger from anyone in the world, then.

Sometimes I sit in my car for a few extra minutes before going back inside. It’s not like there’s anything waiting for me in there that I don’t already know—dinner needs to be made, the kids are probably arguing over something ridiculous, and my husband will be in his usual spot, watching TV or scrolling on his phone, barely noticing I’ve come back. It’s not that he’s a bad man. He’s never been abusive, never been mean, never done anything that would make people say I should leave him. But he also doesn’t do anything. No affection, no deep conversations, no laughter that isn’t forced. Just routine, the same boring loop we’ve been stuck in for years. And I hate that I sound ungrateful, because he works hard, he provides for all of us, and I know plenty of women have it worse. But does that mean I’m just supposed to accept that this is it? That life is just chores and parenting and making sure everyone else is okay while I slowly feel like I’m disappearing?

I wasn’t always like this. I used to be fun, I used to have dreams. I wanted to travel, I wanted to do something creative, I wanted a marriage that actually felt like a partnership instead of just coexisting. But we had kids, and then another, and then another, and suddenly my entire identity became mom while my husband kept being... himself. He still has his job, his hobbies, his space, while I feel like my whole world has shrunk to the walls of this house. And I know, I chose to stay home. It made sense financially. His job pays well enough that I don’t have to work, and childcare would have eaten up most of anything I made anyway. But now, years later, I see the trap I walked into. I have no career, no financial independence, and no way out even if I wanted one. If I left, how would I support myself? How would I support them? And I don’t even know if I want to leave. That’s the worst part. It’s not like there’s someone else. It’s not like I think divorce would magically fix everything. But I also don’t know how to spend the rest of my life feeling like this—like I’m just existing instead of living.

I’ve tried talking to him before. Told him I feel lonely, that I miss who we used to be, that I need something to break the routine. He listens, nods, says yeah, I get it—and then nothing changes. No date nights, no little surprises, no effort. Just the same routine, day after day, year after year. Maybe he thinks this is normal, maybe he’s fine with things the way they are, maybe he doesn’t even realize how much of me has faded away. And I don’t know what to do with that. I keep telling myself that once the kids are older, maybe I can find a job, maybe I can get back some piece of myself that I lost along the way. But what if by then it’s too late? What if I wake up at 50 and realize I wasted all my years waiting for a life that was never gonna come? I don’t know the answer, and honestly, I don’t know if there is one. All I know is I’m feeling trapped, and I don’t know how to break free.

Last year, during the Thanksgiving season, my mom announced that the holiday would also serve as a reunion for her extensive family. She's one of many siblings, and the guest count hit 53 confirmed attendees.

The gathering was set at my mom's place. Luckily, her brother lives right next door, giving us the advantage of using two kitchens. She tasked me with devising the menu, a challenge I accepted but soon realized the complexity of. Considering the dietary restrictions alone was daunting. Our family is Jewish with varying degrees of kosher observance, half are vegetarian or vegan, some have allergies, three suffer from Celiac's disease, and a handful adhere to a keto diet. Plus, there's always a mix of picky children and adventurous adults.

After substantial planning, I shared the proposed menu in our family group chat, and the reaction was generally positive, except for a few minor adjustments like the need for a keto-friendly cheesecake and dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets for the finicky younger ones. However, my brother-in-law did not share the enthusiasm. He was notably upset over the absence of turkey from the menu. My suggestion was either to bring a turkey himself or settle for the alternatives provided. He wasn't pleased about the prospect of cooking after a long drive.

This led to a series of complaints via text from him, supported by further encouragement from my sister pushing me to take matters into my own hands and prepare the turkey. In response to continuous pestering, I made a cheeky post in the group chat declaring that he had volunteered to cook the turkey. This only fueled the fire, drawing my mother into the fray, chiding me for not handling the situation more gracefully.

Reflecting on these events, I believe he failed to appreciate the effort it took to plan such a complex menu. Admittedly, my response could have been more tactful. Now, imagine if this scenario unfolded on a reality TV show. The drama would undoubtedly be amplified for entertainment, featuring tense music and close-ups of our frustrated texts. Would the audience see my actions as justified or deem them an overreaction? It’s an intriguing thought as the line between personal grievance and public spectacle blurs in the realm of reality television.

How would viewers react if this were a reality show segment?

I guess I just need to get this off my chest, and maybe someone here will get what I’m going through, because honestly, I’m kind of spiraling even though I’m trying to stay calm and polite about the whole thing, you know?? I’m 37 years old, been single for what feels like ages, and my family never misses a chance to remind me about it, always these jokes from my siblings, like they think it’s harmless, but it digs a bit deeper every year because I’m trying, I really am, even if they don’t see it!! And suddenly, out of nowhere, someone walks into my life who makes me feel things I thought I left behind in my mid-twenties… and now I’m terrified about messing everything up before it even really starts?? Maybe that sounds silly?? Maybe you’ve been in a similar spot?? I keep asking myself if I’m overthinking or if this is just what happens when life finally throws you something good and you don’t feel prepared for it.

So, the thing is… she’s a stripper. And yes, I already hear some of you sighing or raising an eyebrow or thinking “dude, seriously??” which is exactly the problem, because that’s how my family will react, I’m pretty sure, and it’s driving me crazy before they even know anything. I met her at a friend’s birthday outing, and she wasn’t working then, she was just there, relaxed, laughing, talking like a normal person (because she is a normal person, but I’m embarrassed to admit it took me a minute to see that clearly). We ended up chatting for a long time, and she told me about her job in this kind of open, matter-of-fact way that honestly impressed me!!!! She wasn’t shy or ashamed, she just explained that it pays well, she’s safe, and she’s saving for something better. And all I could think was how confident she sounded, how mature, how honest, while I’m here stressed out because I can’t even handle my family’s dumb comments half the time?? Isn’t that ridiculous?? Sometimes I wonder if I’m the insecure one in this situation and she’s actually the one holding all the maturity.

The more time we’ve spent together, the more I like her… maybe even love her, which feels scary to admit but also kind of hopeful. She’s funny, she listens, she’s patient with my awkwardness, and she seems to genuinely care about who I am, not what I should be by some outdated family standard. I had this moment last week where we were having dinner and she touched my hand in this simple, gentle way, and it just hit me that I haven’t felt that kind of warmth or connection in so long. Do you ever get that sudden wave of “oh wow, this could be something real” and then immediately panic?? Because that’s me… every... single... day!! And then I start worrying again, like what will my brother say, or will my mom look at me with that disappointed half-smile, or will my cousins make their stupid jokes behind my back?? Why am I still scared of these reactions at my age?? I’m 37, for goodness sake, and yet I still worry like I’m some kid trying to hide a bad report card.

But here’s the thing I keep coming back to: maybe this is finally a chance for me to live for myself instead of for what people expect. Maybe dating someone who’s honest, caring, hardworking, and brave enough to choose her own path, no matter what people think, is actually a good influence on me?? I even told her the other day that I was worried about my family judging her, and she smiled and said, “One step at a time… we’ll figure it out when we get there.” And that kind of calm confidence shook me a bit, in a good way!!!! I’ve always been polite, always trying not to upset people, but maybe I’ve been too careful, too scared, too controlled by everyone else’s opinions. Isn’t it strange how we can be grown adults and still be trapped by stuff we should’ve outgrown years ago?? Does that happen to you too??

Anyway, I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m hopeful… genuinely hopeful for once. I know there will be awkward talks and judgment and probably some uncomfortable family dinners, but I also know that she makes me feel alive and appreciated and seen. And isn’t that what we’re all looking for?? I’m not ashamed of her, not really, not when I’m honest with myself, just scared of the noise around us. But maybe I can learn to let that go, bit by bit. If you’ve ever gone through something like this, how did you handle it?? Did your family come around?? And if they didn’t, did you still move forward anyway?? I really want to believe that choosing someone who cares about me is the right thing… and maybe, just maybe, this is my chance to finally build something real!!

My sister recently had a baby, and I’m genuinely excited for her. However, she decided to name her new baby boy Bark. Yes, Bark, like the sound a dog makes. Initially, I thought it was a playful joke and couldn’t help but burst out laughing. It turns out, she was completely serious.

When she noticed my reaction, she asked what was so funny. I explained that the name resembled a canine’s bark, a bit like "Bark bark?" I expected her to laugh it off, too, but to my surprise, she became upset. Apparently, I had touched a nerve.

She explained that the name was significant to both her and her husband. They had chosen the name Bark because it's the name of a beloved character from a rather niche video game they both adore. I did my best to be understanding and clarified that they should choose whatever name they feel is right, but I couldn’t help but express my concern about how others might perceive it, especially as he grows and starts school.

Since our conversation, she has stopped responding to my messages and calls. Even my mom thinks I should have just kept my thoughts to myself. Is it really just me who sees potential issues with the name Bark?

I certainly didn’t intend to upset anyone, especially not about something as important as a child’s name. However, the name "Bark"? It’s hard not to imagine some challenging scenarios he might face because of it. I wonder if my sister is perhaps being slightly overreactive, or if I’m truly the one at fault here.

Imagine if this situation unfolded on a reality show—cameras capturing every grimace and uncomfortable silence. The viewers would probably be split; some might applaud my frankness while others could see me as insensitive. Reality TV thrives on these clashes, but experiencing it firsthand really makes you ponder about the weight of words and the complexities of family dynamics.

Ultimately, is maintaining family harmony more important than voicing concerns about potential teasing a child might endure? It’s a tough call to make, even if it made for engaging television.

What would be your reaction if someone named their child Bark?

I hate all the lies she tells me. I hate that She says She doesn't care, she's Better off, She moved on, that she's hardned up. Because It's not true. It's lie. And she's actively trying to mend a hole he, or some body else with other things, or people or Animals. Trying to shape them into her ideals, projecting her suffiring onto them, making them pay for his mistakes. I hate that all those solid values she preached on and on for my whole life Is just what She wanted in him. I hate that She thinks i'm him. And i hate that She May be right. I hate that I have this kind of obbligation to make up for all she went through and to apologize for what he did. I hate him. I hate her. I loathe her.

As someone who captures weddings through the lens of a camera, I've encountered my first situation where I’m seriously considering declining to cover an event. I secured a wedding booking back in February and had a preliminary chat with the couple, where they mentioned a broad destination without pinning down the exact location. I agreed on the condition that they would update me accordingly. Similarly, they didn't provide a specific time for the event.

Over the following months, I attempted to reach out for details but my messages were left unanswered. By mid-June, with the wedding fast approaching on the 30th, there was still radio silence from their side.

Driven to find answers, I contacted another vendor involved in the wedding. Shockingly, I learned that the couple had shifted their wedding site to a spot three hours away, now planning to start the event at 5 AM, followed by a two-mile trek to the venue. All this, and still no word directly from the couple themselves. Additionally, the vendor hinted that these plans might not even be final.

Despite having received payment upfront, we had never formalized a contract detailing the agreement's specifics. Now, just five days away from the event, I find myself in a dilemma whether I should cancel. The thought of traveling all that distance only to possibly find the venue changed again is daunting.

If I cancel, I think it would be fair to offer a full or at least partial refund due to the circumstances. However, I’m open to suggestions on how to handle this professionally. I was hesitating for the category between the one I chose and the Bridezilla category... hard to choose :)

Imagine how this scenario would unfold if it were part of a reality TV show. Cameras following every tense moment as I struggle with the decision, juxtaposed with the intrigue of the wedding couple’s erratic planning. The drama of it could captivate viewers, showing the real challenges faced by wedding vendors, often hidden behind the glamour of the big day. But would the public sympathize with my predicament or see it as an overreaction? The suspense and possible conflict might make for riveting television but would certainly add another layer of stress in reality.

Just the other day, we attended a birthday party for a friend's child, complete with all the festive chaos typical of such gatherings. It was a friendly barbecue setting: children running around and plenty of grilled hot dogs and hamburgers. I found myself manning the grill, handing out food to both the enthusiastic kids and their parents.

During the event, one of the children approached me to inquire if we had any bologna available. I humorously responded that we only had hot dogs and hamburgers, and quipped, “But, you know, hot dogs and bologna are pretty much the same thing, just shaped differently!” The kid seemed uninterested in both, opting instead for some chips before running off to join the others.

However, a few hours post-party, I received an unexpected message from this child's dad, with whom I've been acquainted since our kindergarten days. We've been through school together all the way to university graduation, though we're not exactly the type who hang out regularly on weekends.

His text was unexpectedly intense; he expressed frustration that I had inadvertently ruined bologna for his child by comparing it to hot dogs. He clarified that his son is exceptionally picky with food, and bologna was one of the few sure things he’d actually eat.

The feeling of guilt washed over me as I can certainly sympathize with the struggle of feeding a choosy child, though I was clueless about the depth of his son’s selective eating habits.

The friend who hosted the party reached out to me later, affirming that I hadn’t done anything wrong and suggesting the reaction was a significant overreaction. They mentioned that if the child had such specific food aversions, the parents might have advised us beforehand. Despite this reassurance, I couldn't shake off feeling somewhat responsible for the unintended consequence of my offhand comment.

Reflecting on this situation, it’s intriguing to consider how this scenario would unfold if it were part of a reality TV show. The various perspectives and heightened emotional responses would no doubt provide ample material for dramatization. Viewers might debate whether my attempt at humor was misplaced or if the parent’s reaction was too severe. The inclusion of audience reactions could potentially sway public opinion, making an otherwise minor interaction into a major talking point.

How would the public react if it were witnessing the whole ordeal live on a reality show? Would my casual comment be seen as a harmless joke or a significant faux pas?

I'm in my early 20s and just started at a mid-sized tech company in the San Mateo area about 1.5 months ago. The office has around 500 people, and things are mostly going well, except for one annoying issue - single-use EVERYTHING. Styrofoam cups, java jackets, plastic utensils, canned water, you name it. Every day, I see people with those waxy coated paper cups for coffee, water, juice, whatever. These can't be recycled, yet they keep ending up in the recycling bin.

Yesterday, I decided to put up some simple paper signs around the cup area. They said, "Consider bringing your own reusable mug to the office :) These wax-coated cups cannot be recycled. Our reliance on single-use items creates unnecessary garbage and furthers our dependence on plastic." Whenever I passed by the kitchen, I saw people reading the signs and felt super proud of making a difference! But today, when I came in, the signs near the HR area were taken down. So, I printed more. Again, they were removed within 2 hours. Since HR orders all the kitchen supplies, I suspect it's them. I'd talk to HR, but I feel like they're biased since they order this stuff. It's frustrating because, being in the SF Bay Area, we should be held to a higher standard of sustainability, especially as a mid-sized company. You wouldn't find this much single-use garbage in other offices around here.

So, am I wrong for being concerned about our office sustainability? How should I resolve this? Also, what if this was a reality show? Can you imagine the drama? Like, would people root for me or the HR folks? How would the audience react to my efforts to make the office greener?