A Husband for Home; a Wife for Away
Google has been making similar changes to Android P... As a frequent smartphone user, I do find it easier to not have my attention hissed repeatedly. I do not think it is infantile at all, but smartphones finally behaving the way they were meant to.
They don’t want to depend on Apple to tweak their OS to be slightly less intrusive, or need to download an app that provides a fun reminder about disconnecting; they want instead to be so wrapped up in doing things that are hard and important and meaningful that they forgot where they left their phone in the first place.
But every man is obsessed by the memories of his own youth.
this is beautifully articulated and not discussed often enough. ❤️
What if the purpose of your relationship was something unconditional and something that you could take responsibility for? Such as:
Practicing love — of self and others
Enjoying the big adventure called life together, ups and downs alike
Both of these are within a framework of personal accountability for our own emotional needs — never dumping them on others, or trying to pull them from them. They emphasize our own ownership and responsibility in both good times and bad times.
what is to say that Belong is not vulnerable to issues that plague most of our social networks today?
A group of hackers called Orangeworm has been sneaking into healthcare companies' computer systems, according to Symantec.
reads like a dream.
I’ve mainly learned that however much you think you know yourself, your mind, your beliefs, or your history, that the world can flip on a dime. And you cannot even try to be ready for it. But you shouldn’t try to stop it when it does. I’ve learned that the human mind is incredibly powerful, and incredibly fragile and that you should look after it. Exercise it, support it, nurture it, love it.”
looks super fun!
And fact-checking news on Facebook only goes a little way in India, where the primary vector for the spread of misinformation and hoaxes is WhatsApp, the company’s encrypted instant messaging app, which has more than 200 million users in the country. A WhatsApp spokesperson recently told BuzzFeed News that the company was "thinking through ways" it can prevent the spread of misinformation through its platform in the country.
as someone who's still processing past traumas herself, it was interesting (and reassuring, in some sense, to know that having emotional trauma doesn't automatically translate into loss of control over one's experience and paranoia) to read about Janet's very meticulously documented journey. Curious to see how it goes with other hallucinogens
my heart breaks reading this
While the newspapers in 13-year-old Sally’s hometown of Camden tended to paint a sympathetic portrait of the young girl’s abduction, much of the media also engaged in its share of victim blaming, pointing out that Sally wouldn’t have been so vulnerable if she hadn’t shoplifted. The Associated Press described her as “chubby” and other papers called her plump and husky, even though she was 110 pounds and 5-feet tall. They also published her name, which happens rarely nowadays in cases involving minors and sexual crimes. Some outlets even included the times and places LaSalle had assaulted Sally.
Sally struggled to return to ordinary life following her two years of sexual captivity. In the 1950s, there was little research about the effects of such a traumatic experience on adolescents, so her treatment was likely inadequate. She was rescued in the spring of 1950, but she died two years later in a car accident at just 15.
One of the things I’m struggling most with is this concept of legacy. I’m a planner. Before this diagnosis I’d been thinking of my 1st 35 years — aside from being a ton of fun and travel — as preparation. I felt like I was building a platform (savings, networks, skills, experience) that I could then use in my second act to make a real contribution, to “make my mark”, to build a real legacy for my kids. Perhaps that was a mistake on my part, because I may have no time to do that now. I guess I’m panicking a little.
I feel like I have so many messages to deliver to the blissful masses from my now precarious vantage point, from the importance of early precautionary doctor visits to the merits of life insurance. But putting pragmatism aside, there is one thing I’d urge everyone to do. Stop just assuming you have a full lifetime to do whatever it is you dream of doing. I know it sounds ridiculously cliched, and of course you never think it will happen to you, but let me assure you that life really can be taken from you at any time, so live it with that reality in mind.
If you’re a disabled person reading this, you don’t have to do a thing. Give yourself a break. Order takeout. Cancel plans. Febreeze your clothes instead of washing them. You’re doing great. I’m proud of you.
But that’s the thing. Like your wedding, your marriage doesn’t define you. Sometimes I forget I’m married.
Some people might think that’s terrible. But consider most natural processes. Walking. Blinking. Breathing. We don’t give that a second thought. Because we do it all the time. So if you do your marriage all the time, then you probably won’t think about it as a “marriage.”
Some of you also might think, “But you’re so open and flirty online.” So you get married, and suddenly you have to gain 10 pounds and stop taking any pride in your sexuality whatsoever?
Not gonna happen.
Cardi unleashes her recollections of FDR's life and accomplishments in a passionate torrent that assumes no prior knowledge on the part of the listener and follows no time line. She knows which president succeeded Roosevelt (his vice president, Truman) and which preceded him (Hoover). She gives a brief overview of the 22nd Amendment. She used to be able to list all the U.S. presidents in order of term but is too nervous to try it in front of me. As a compromise, she invites me to name any president.
"He was the 15th president," she says, and her tone is as neutral as if she were reciting types of weather. "Buchanan is the only president that was a bachelor."
Mothering has rendered all of my old mechanisms faulty. The tools I employed to create safety in distance do not work for building security in closeness. And because love (for me) is tangled in loss, the love I feel for my children terrifies me. It comes coupled with varying panics. Panic that they will get sick, panic that they will be taken from me, panic that they will face Black-boy-specific horrors. But the most personal panic—the only one where I can control the outcome—is the panic that I will fail at teaching them to securely love and be loved. It’s panic that I am a broken person who will make them like me, that they will inherit the same evasive love that I did.
Using hyper-targeted marketing, just-in-time manufacturing, and social media, these brands find and engage their audience wherever they may be. Of course, small brands are nothing new, but they typically remained small companies. Now I’m hearing about more and more of these brands with tiny teams generating over $10M in sales, with higher-than-normal-retail profit margins. What is driving this new wave of commerce, and what are the implications?
O started a fight with me. I don’t remember what it was about, only that he wanted to antagonize me. I was holding the baby. J asked if she could hold the baby. I handed him to her—he was warm and small—and O slapped me, then pushed me against a wall and into a closed door. I tried to fight back, but he kept hitting me. J took care of my baby and didn’t get involved. I managed to get to the phone in the kitchen and called 911. O grabbed the phone from my hand and told the operator that I was stupid and hung up. Police showed up a few minutes later. They asked O to give me his keys and leave, but they didn’t arrest him. He left with them, his key on the kitchen table. I lay next to my son and slept the deepest sleep I’d slept in a year. At dawn, O came back in with a second key he’d kept and mocked me for thinking I could keep him out of his own apartment.
In early spring, I went for a walk and noticed, a few blocks away, O’s car in a random driveway. A few days later, he told me he had found someone else and was leaving me.
I moved into my parents’ basement. He would try to harm me, to harm us, over the next few years, but we moved farther and farther away from him after that first move underground. It was over. I was free. I was safe. It was over.
This is all too much. You can’t think about this now. Maybe you could focus on something else. Maybe you could quit sugar. Maybe you could go Keto. Maybe you should buy an electric car—less ambitious but something you still need to do. Maybe you could find a new series to watch on Netflix. So many other decisions you could make right now.
You need to meditate. You need to grapple with this existential crisis. You drive North to Marin. You drive over the Golden Gate Bridge. You arrive at Spirit Rock. You’re going to meditate on this before making any decisions.
You finish your Kombucha and slip on your Allbirds before you meditate. You can put off this decision.
Until your next equity grant vests.
It would be great if every app and service recognized this pretty obvious hierarchy of urgency and simply get rid of No. 3 wholesale. That's never going to happen for the same reason email spam will never fully go away: There will always be some percentage of people who respond to the alert, and as long as the service is providing something essential enough that the bulk of users aren't tossing it, some amount of dross will continue.
I was living the life I thought I had missed out on, with all of its attendant fun, power, and pleasure. I was ravenous for it, and believed there would be no consequences. I drank. I was good at it and every night was an exhibition of will. Once I downed an entire bottle of soju in a single shot on a dare. You would be a good businessman here men said, slapping my back. I grinned and poured everyone another round and told them to drink. I invited myself to tables of strangers, and sometimes I slept with them. I flirted with women. I flirted with married men. I could be anything I wanted, because for the first time, I felt that I could.
I cannot believe I'm reading this
“Mr Rey will have to explain what it is about his French heritage that would result in behaviour that people misinterpret as a violation of workplace standards of acceptable conduct,” she wrote in her decision.
What’s especially clever about Dex-Net is how it learns to grasp. The software tries picking up objects in a virtual environment, training a deep neural network through trial and error. Even in simulation, this is a laborious task. Crucially, though, Dex-Net can generalize from an object it has seen before to a new one. The robot will even nudge an item to get a better look at it if it isn’t sure how it should be grasped.
Maybe it will become a tradition for us, a ritual reminder of a perennial truth. Assuming we get to do it again. But no one is guaranteed another Valentine’s Day.
“He says he has a murder plan ready in the submarine, and I tell him I am not afraid, you have to be more threatening. He talks about the tools he wants to use, and I say, ‘Oh it’s not threatening.’ ” The scenario darkened to inviting a friend to the submarine, where they would suddenly change the mood and begin cutting her up. At the time, the woman didn’t give the exchange much thought; it was not something she took seriously. After a lull in the back and forth, she responded by sending him a video of horses. The moment passed. The police now have the texts.
Shortly after starting my new role, I went back to my therapist and told her: “It’s been a year since we broke up. I thought my dream job and exercise would heal me, but I still think about him every day. What more can I do to let go?”
First, she told me a story about a man she loved in her early 20s, nearly 50 years ago, whom she still thinks about to this day. Then she said: “You’re asking the wrong question. It’s not about getting over and letting go.”
I looked down at my hands and considered how this could possibly be about anything else.
“It’s about honoring what happened,” she said. “You met a person who awoke something in you. A fire ignited. The work is to be grateful. Grateful every day that someone crossed your path and left a mark on you.”
Author reveals that first book in new trilogy, The Book of Dust, is bleaker than previous books and could be known as ‘His Darker Materials’
While “keylogging” software has been around for a while, the practices highlighted in the new Princeton study are “by far the most pernicious,” examples of capturing user information, says Ashkan Soltani, a security and privacy researcher and former chief technologist for the Federal Trade Commission. “Capturing [the text typed into] every form field is a level of detail that I have not seen historically.”
“I don’t think most users realize that when they interact with a website that their information about that visit is being shared with 40 to 100 third parties,” Soltani says. Those companies typically record only that a user has visited a page, he adds, but in these cases they are capturing “not only that I visited that page, but also what content I submitted.”
One of the software companies identified by the study is Yandex, Russia’s largest search engine. Englehardt said the researchers did not examine whether Yandex’s tracking might have been part of state-sponsored surveillance. But he said that Yandex was most often used on Russian websites.
Seeing an opportunity to cut into Google’s market share through Firefox’s hundreds of millions of users, she reportedly allowed Mozilla to include a clause in the contract that required Yahoo to continue making annual payments of $375 million through 2019 if Yahoo was purchased by a company that Mozilla didn’t want to work with. According to Recode, “it was a scenario that Mayer never thought would happen.”
weirdest bubble bursting ever?
“Austin’s a woman,” I would say. “Besides, she’s in her 80s. She’s just a pal.”
Even as they replied, “That’s cool,” I could almost hear them thinking: “Must be slim pickings out in Oregon.”
What was perplexing, I suppose, was not that two people of such different ages had become friends, but that we had essentially become best friends. Others regarded our devotion as either strange or quaint, like one of those unlikely animal friendships: a monkey and a pigeon, perhaps.