@korejay@mrn3ls0n My survey was very good and thorought, and compared ot my notes it confirmed what I already had identified, but it got a good assesment of other points I have not fully covered. You don't know what you don't know! Finding a good surveyor is the most important part though.
@LiflessStar@N1ghtC4ller@bioware Exactly. Perfect example is BG3. If your game is a masterpiece you might have transdickcopters shooting purple rays to transform people in nonbinary entities that it will kill it in the market.
@aragonn_jesus@Pedroobeniteez_ Mi novia encontró esta cuenta, y me regalo una tableta gráfica de navidades. Completamente inesperado. Ahora estamos de viaje. Cuando vuelva a casa me resucito esta cuenta con retratos denigrantes, que tengo que reaprender. Pasad fotos o decidlo a los amigos si queréis mas jajaja
Functional depression looks really good on you from the outside.
You wake up to the alarm, not to some cinematic breakdown. You hit snooze twice, curse under your breath, and get up because there are emails and mouths and bills that do not care what your brain is doing. The toothbrush moves. The shower runs. The coffee machine hums. Your body walks through the script. Somewhere around 08:17 you catch your own face in the bathroom mirror and feel that tiny drop in your stomach. You look fine. That is the worst part. You look completely fine.
At work you are even better. You know the right jokes for the group chat. You write the Slack messages with the little emoji at the end so no one misreads your tone. You sit in meetings and nod at the right time, say something smart about timelines, share your screen. Your camera shows a person who is engaged and competent. Nobody sees that the entire time, there is a second movie running behind your eyes. Old conversations. Things you regret. Imaginary disasters. That one sentence someone said three years ago that still feels like a punch. All of it looping like a cursed playlist.
From the outside you look like a functioning adult. Inside you feel like a person trapped in a glass box at the bottom of a swimming pool.
The water is the thoughts. That constant buzz. You are sitting on the couch at 21:46, show playing on your laptop, phone in your hand, and you are not actually in the room. You are replaying every small failure of the day. The email where you sounded weird. The moment you saw your reflection in a shop window and hated your posture. The way your friend texted a bit shorter than usual. Your chest feels heavy and weirdly empty at the same time. You scroll anyway. You laugh at a meme. You send a reaction back. No one watching that scene would call it depression.
You keep telling yourself exactly that. It cannot be that bad. You have a job. You reply to messages. You pay rent on time. You show up for family. You wash dishes. You even make plans sometimes. Functional depression is cruel because it hands you a list of everything you manage to do and uses it as evidence against your own pain.
How can you be drowning when you are still walking.
There is a version of depression everyone knows how to recognize. The one where you cannot get out of bed. The one where you cry all the time. The dramatic collapse. The movie version. People feel sympathy for that one. They send messages. They ask if you need anything. They bring soup. What you have is different. You get out of bed. You go to work. You smile. You make the joke. You remember the birthday. You look like someone whose favorite phrase should be “I am fine.”
So you learn to become an expert at being fine.
You say “just tired” so many times it stops meaning anything. You say “busy lately” when what you mean is “I feel like there is a hole in my chest and I keep dropping pieces of myself into it.” You become the one who listens rather than talks because listening hurts less than explaining. When someone asks “how are you really,” you feel this flash of panic. If you open that door, you are not sure you can close it fast enough to still make your 10:30 meeting.
Functional depression turns your life into a performance where the main skill is not letting anyone see the stagehands behind the curtain.
Your body keeps trying to report the truth in weird small ways. The tension headache that hits every afternoon around 16:12 when your screen starts to blur. The way your jaw clicks because you grind your teeth all night. The random wave of nausea in the supermarket under fluorescent lights. The way your heart suddenly spikes for no obvious reason when you get a harmless notification. None of it is dramatic enough to count as an emergency. All of it adds up to a nervous system tapping on the glass.
@GuerraAcorazada@Andrs42611185 El problema no es realmente dentro de torre, el daño viene por trabajar constantemente alrededor de motores encendidos que hacen un ruido de la hostia. Gran hilo, me has traído muy buenos recuerdos:)
@gimenezz23@MovistarFutbol Primero, por algun motivi somos los indios.
Segundo, estos colombianos con la bandera de Armenia llevan muchísimo tiempo acudiendo al estadio.
No. No se animan mediante "redes neuronales" ni mediante "IA" (se ha compartido este mismo contenido diciendo que era IA). Esa animación la llevan a cabo artistas 3D. ¿Se ha puesto de moda invisibilizar al artista?
Hi all, Paul here.
Today I am especially grateful to still be alive as I reflect on human decency, character and justice.
As you may remember, on the 29th of February 2016 I almost lost my life while performing at Armin van Buuren’ s A State of Trance Utrecht festival that was organized by his business associates at ALDA which was managed by Alan Hardenberg and David Lewis.
Since then, it was legally established that their disregard for basic safety standards in stage building and event safety led to my fall and therefore left me with multiple broken bones including my spine, traumatic brain injury and health problems for the rest of my life.
How can you cover an unmarked hole in the stage construction with fabric? How can there be an unmarked hole to begin with? Greed? Saving money at the cost of safety?
The legal responsibility is very clear; ALDA has been held accountable, but even after 8 years, they have never acknowledged any responsibility, not given a simple apology and have not paid any of the court-ordered compensation to cover the economic damages they caused, as ordered by the highest court in the Netherlands.
To the contrary, ALDA even tried to block the insurance to pay for my medical bills and that says everything about their character and decency.
On the positive side I learned a lot about survival and how to approach the everyday struggle caused by the severe injuries and the life-long impact on my health, to deal with it with positivity regardless of the continuing pain.
During the months I was in hospitals, everyone did their utmost to bring me back, I was treated with dignity, respect and care and for that I will be forever grateful.
All your support and well wishes encouraged me to stand up and walk again, it motivated me to an extent you will never understand and for that I will be forever grateful.
I discovered that love is the greatest power that exists and for the endless love and strength I was given by my wife Margarita, I will be forever grateful.
But nobody and nothing can give me back my health or make up for what my family and friends had to go through.
Even though they continue to hide from their responsibility I know for certain that justice will succeed in the end.
@JomgThe@fasc1nate He took drastic measures to attempt to save his son and he succeeded. Regardless of that, he should face the consequences of his actions, as he did, gracefully. Similarly , Doctors should be examined for any malpractice and protocols should be reconsidered.