The only reason I still live in Ohio. My salary is almost double the median income, and I’m still just barely staying out of the paycheck to paycheck life while paying my spouses way through school. I wouldn’t have been able to afford a house anywhere else with just my income and maintain what semblance of a life we do have.
The perks of living in the decaying rust belt I guess.
No doubt. Ten years ago, that same phrase would’ve meant I had to decide between gas and food on Wednesday.
Now it’s enough to pay the bills and tuition after we lost their income because of covid. I’m constantly teetering on overdrafts thanks to the financial obligations we have from when there was 40k more a year in the bank. Sure, it might not be for the same reasons, but it’s a similar situation. It left me with no room for savings. You can be broke and make good money, due to situations beyond your control.
I came from three generations of broke people on both sides. It’s not like I don’t get it. Just decided to prioritize the betterment of someone I care about, and not remain in crushing debt for the rest of my life. I drive a 13 year old truck. My phone is 4 years old. We shop at discount grocery stores. I’m not just blowing it.
Point being, if I lived anywhere else but Ohio or some equally inexpensive state, I would have lost everything by now.
Raised catholic here too, maybe catholic guilt but personally I think it’s more so the pervading idea that people implicitly aren’t allowed to exist in a space outside the home or offices unless they spend money and by walking out without buying anything bypasses the normal routine of going to a store to get something and going through some kind of checkout process.
As I suspected it appears they tortured the snails somehow (my guess is electric shock) to create traumatic memories. This has been done with caterpillars I think to see if they retain memories after turning into butterflies and they do, despite basically turning into primordial goop in the cocoon. They do, and it’s tested by seeing if they retain aversions to certain areas of their cages that are electrified.
Then something about enzymes created which associate memory with pain and being able to target them.
Pretty cool, and I for one definitely have a few traumas I’d like erased.
There is debate about how the therapy works and whether it is more effective than other established treatments.[1][5] The eye movements have been criticized as having no scientific basis.[6] The founder promoted the therapy for the treatment of PTSD, and proponents employed untestable hypotheses to explain negative results in controlled studies.[7] EMDR has been characterized as a pseudoscientific purple hat therapy (i.e., only as effective as its underlying therapeutic methods without any contribution from its distinctive add-ons).[8]
I read about that fifteen years ago and dismissed it as pseudoscience. Wikipedia confirms. Pass (thanks though, don’t mean to be rude)
I never understood people that like metal. Some people are fascinated by this band called meshuggah and it’s juste impressive body coordination by following algorithmic rules that end up sounding like random noise. The meaningless screaming is garbage. I hate vocals and screeching at the microphone isn’t better.
I hope you realize you sound like a boomer, I've literally heard my boomer mother make the same argument about different bands I listen to. If we were having this conversation a couple decades, I would expect to hear something like "Goddamn kids with their hip hop, saggy pants, and loud music"
If i sound like a bommers for not understanding how anyone can like noise as music so be it. I listen to all kind of music. Even Mongolian throat singing is somewhat melodic while metal sounds to me like noise.
I’d be happy to listen to anything you’d recommend If you got something that’s got at least some melodies, not someone screaming at the mic while another is hitting the drum like a maniac with some electric guitar backing it or vice versa.
I personally dislike Meshugga because I don’t care for gutteral screaming, but even my drunk ass isn’t arrogant enough to call it garbage just because it’s not to my taste.
I always equate it to spicy food. It’s painful and unpleasant, but you can’t stop going back for more. It’s a sort of weird catharsis that follows, as well.
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