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Cybersecurity expert Grant Smith wasn’t about to let it slide when scammers tried bilking his wife through a phony USPS text, also known as "smishing"

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Elon Musk's Ex-Wife And Mother To 5 Kids Claims He Pushed Her to Sign Away Financial Rights: 'He Said It Wasn't a Prenup, So I Trusted Him' - Benzinga

Wife

wife

Phineas Redux by Anthony Trollope, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . THE TRUANT WIFE. here THE TRUANT WIFE. Phineas on his return to London wrote a line to Lady Chiltern in accordance with a promise which had been exacted from him. She was anxious to learn something as to the real condition of her husband's brother-in-law, and, when she heard that Phineas was going to Loughlinter, had begged that he would tell her the truth. "He has become eccentric, gloomy, and very strange," said Phineas. "I do not believe that he is really mad, but his condition is such that I think no friend should recommend Lady Laura to return to him. He seems to have devoted himself to a gloomy religion,—and to the saving of money. I had but one interview with him, and that was essentially disagreeable." Having remained two days in London, and having participated, as far as those two days would allow him, in the general horror occasioned by the wickedness and success of Mr. Daubeny, he started for Dresden. He found Lord Brentford living in a spacious house, with a huge garden round it, close upon the northern confines of the town. Dresden, taken altogether, is a clean cheerful city, and strikes the stranger on his first entrance as a place in which men are gregarious, busy, full of merriment, and pre-eminently social. Such is the happy appearance of but few towns either in the old or the new world, and is hardly more common in Germany than elsewhere. Leipsic is decidedly busy, but does not look to be social. Vienna is sufficiently gregarious, but its streets are melancholy. Munich is social, but lacks the hum of business. Frankfort is both practical and picturesque, but it is dirty, and apparently averse to mirth. Dresden has much to recommend it, and had Lord Brentford with his daughter come abroad in quest of comfortable easy social life, his choice would have been well made. But, as it was, any of the towns above named would have suited him as well as Dresden, for he saw no society, and cared nothing for the outward things of the world around him. He found Dresden to be very cold in the winter and very hot in the summer, and he liked neither heat nor cold; but he had made up his mind that all places, and indeed all things, are nearly equally disagreeable, and therefore he remained at Dresden, grumbling almost daily as to the climate and manners of the people. Phineas, when he arrived at the hall door, almost doubted whether he had not been as wrong in visiting Lord Brentford as he had in going to Loughlinter. His friendship with the old Earl had been very fitful, and there had been quarrels quite as pronounced as the friendship. He had often been happy in the Earl's house, but the happiness had not sprung from any love for the man himself. How would it be with him if he found the Earl hardly more civil to him than the Earl's son-in-law had been? In former days the Earl had been a man quite capable of making himself disagreeable, and probably had not yet lost the power of doing so. Of all our capabilities this is the one which clings longest to us. He was thinking of all this when he found himself at the door of the Earl's house. He had travelled all night, and was very cold. At Leipsic there had been a nominal twenty minutes for refreshment, which the circumstances of the station had reduced to five. This had occurred very early in the morning, and had sufficed only to give him a bowl of coffee. It was now nearly ten, and breakfast had become a serious consideration with him. He almost doubted whether it would not have been better for him to have gone to an hotel in the first instance. He soon found himself in the hall amidst a cluster of servants, among whom he recognised the face of a man from Saulsby. He had, however, little time allowed him for looking about. He was hardly in the house before Lady Laura Kennedy was in his arms. She had run forward, and before he could look into her face, she had put up her cheek to his lips and had taken both his hands. "Oh, my friend," she said; "oh, my friend! How good you are to come to me! How good you are to come!" And then she led him into a large room, in which a table had been prepared for breakfast, close to an English-looking open fire. "How cold you must be, and how hungry! Shall I have breakfast for you at once, or will you dress first? You are to be quite at home, you know; exactly as though we were brother and sister. You are not to stand on any ceremonies." And again she took him by the hand. He had hardly looked her yet in the face, and he could not do so now because he knew that she was crying. "Then I will show you to your room," she said, when he had decided for a tub of water before breakfast. "Yes, I will,—my own self. And I'd fetch the water for you, only I know it is there already. How long will you be? Half an hour? Very well. And you would like tea best, wouldn't you?" "Certainly, I should like tea best." "I will make it for you. Papa never comes down till near two, and we shall have all the morning for talking. Oh, Phineas, it is such a pleasure to hear your voice again. You have been at Loughlinter?" "Yes, I have been there." "How very good of you; but I won't ask a question now. You must put up with a stove here, as we have not open fires in the bed-rooms. I hope you will be comfortable. Don't be more than half an hour, as I shall be impatient." Though he was thus instigated to haste he stood a few minutes with his back to the warm stove that he might be enabled to think of it all. It was two years since he had seen this woman, and when they had parted there had been more between them of the remembrances of old friendship than of present affection. During the last few weeks of their intimacy she had made a point of telling him that she intended to separate herself from her husband; but she had done so as though it were a duty, and an arranged part of her own defence of her own conduct. And in the latter incidents of her London life,—that life with which he had been conversant,—she had generally been opposed to him, or, at any rate, had chosen to be divided from him. She had said severe things to him,—telling him that he was cold, heartless, and uninterested, never trying even to please him with that sort of praise which had once been so common with her in her intercourse with him, and which all men love to hear from the mouths of women. She had then been cold to him, though she would make wretched allusions to the time when he, at any rate, had not been cold to her. She had reproached him, and had at the same time turned away from him. She had repudiated him, first as a lover, then as a friend; and he had hitherto never been able to gauge the depth of the affection for him which had underlaid all her conduct. As he stood there thinking of it all, he began to understand it. How natural had been her conduct on his arrival, and how like that of a genuine, true-hearted, honest woman! All her first thoughts had been for his little personal wants,—that he should be warmed, and fed, and made outwardly comfortable. Let sorrow be ever so deep, and love ever so true, a man will be cold who travels by winter, and hungry who has travelled by night. And a woman, who is a true, genuine woman, always takes delight in ministering to the natural wants of her friend. To see a man eat and drink, and wear his slippers, and sit at ease in his chair, is delightful to the feminine heart that loves. When I heard the other day that a girl had herself visited the room prepared for a man in her mother's house, then I knew that she loved him, though I had never before believed it. Phineas, as he stood there, was aware that this woman loved him dearly. She had embraced him, and given her face to him to kiss. She had clasped his hands, and clung to him, and had shown him plainly that in the midst of all her sorrow she could be made happy by his coming. But he was a man far too generous to take all this as meaning aught that it did not mean,—too generous, and intrinsically too manly. In his character there was much of weakness, much of vacillation, perhaps some deficiency of strength and purpose; but there was no touch of vanity. Women had loved him, and had told him so; and he had been made happy, and also wretched, by their love. But he had never taken pride, personally, to himself because they had loved him. It had been the accident of his life. Now he remembered chiefly that this woman had called herself his sister, and he was grateful. Then he thought of her personal appearance. As yet he had hardly looked at her, but he felt that she had become old and worn, angular and hard-visaged. All this had no effect upon his feelings towards her, but filled him with ineffable regret. When he had first known her she had been a woman with a noble presence—not soft and feminine as had been Violet Effingham, but handsome and lustrous, with a healthy youth. In regard to age he and she were of the same standing. That he knew well. She had passed her thirty-second birthday, but that was all. He felt himself to be still a young man, but he could not think of her as of a young woman. When he went down she had been listening for his footsteps, and met him at the door of the room. "Now sit down," she said, "and be comfortable—if you can, with German surroundings. They are almost always late, and never give one any time. Everybody says so. The station at Leipsic is dreadful, I know. Good coffee is very well, but what is the use of good coffee if you have no time to drink it? You must eat our omelette. If there is one thing we can do better than you it is to make an omelette. Yes,—that is genuine German sausage. There is always some placed upon the table, but the Germans who come here never touch it themselves. You will have a cutlet, won't you? I breakfasted an hour ago, and more. I would not wait because then I thought I could talk to you better, and wait upon you. I did not think that anything would ever please me so much again as your coming has done. Oh, how much we shall have to say! Do you remember when we last parted;—when you were going back to Ireland?" "I remember it well." "Ah me; as I look back upon it all, how strange it seems. I dare say you don't remember the first day I met you, at Mr. Mildmay's,—when I asked you to come to Portman Square because Barrington had said that you were clever?" "I remember well going to Portman Square." "That was the beginning of it all. Oh dear, oh dear; when I think of it I find it so hard to see where I have been right, and where I have been wrong. If I had not been very wrong all this evil could not have come upon me." "Misfortune has not always been deserved." "I am sure it has been so with me. You can smoke here if you like." This Phineas persistently refused to do. "You may if you please. Papa never comes in here, and I don't mind it. You'll settle down in a day or two, and understand the extent of your liberties. Tell me first about Violet. She is happy?" "Quite happy, I think." "I knew he would be good to her. But does she like the kind of life?" "Oh, yes." "She has a baby, and therefore of course she is happy. She says he is the finest fellow in the world." "I dare say he is. They all seem to be contented with him, but they don't talk much about him." "No; they wouldn't. Had you a child you would have talked about him, Phineas. I should have loved my baby better than all the world, but I should have been silent about him. With Violet of course her husband is the first object. It would certainly be so from her nature. And so Oswald is quite tame?" "I don't know that he is very tame out hunting." "But to her?" "I should think always. She, you know, is very clever." "So clever!" "And would be sure to steer clear of all offence," said Phineas, enthusiastically. "While I could never for an hour avoid it. Did they say anything about the journey to Flanders?" "Chiltern did, frequently. He made me strip my shoulder to show him the place where he hit me." "How like Oswald!" "And he told me that he would have given one of his eyes to kill me, only Colepepper wouldn't let him go on. He half quarrelled with his second, but the man told him that I had not fired at him, and the thing must drop. 'It's better as it is, you know,' he said. And I agreed with him." "And how did Violet receive you?" "Like an angel,—as she is." "Well, yes. I'll grant she is an angel now. I was angry with her once, you know. You men find so many angels in your travels. You have been honester than some. You have generally been off with the old angel before you were on with the new,—as far at least as I knew." "Is that meant for rebuke, Lady Laura?" "No, my friend; no. That is all over. I said to myself when you told me that you would come, that I would not utter one ill-natured word. And I told myself more than that!" "What more?" "That you had never deserved it,—at least from me. But surely you were the most simple of men." "I dare say." "Men when they are true are simple. They are often false as hell, and then they are crafty as Lucifer. But the man who is true judges others by himself,—almost without reflection. A woman can be true as steel and cunning at the same time. How cunning was Violet, and yet she never deceived one of her lovers, even by a look. Did she?" "She never deceived me,—if you mean that. She never cared a straw about me, and told me so to my face very plainly." "She did care,—many straws. But I think she always loved Oswald. She refused him again and again, because she thought it wrong to run a great risk, but I knew she would never marry any one else. How little Lady Baldock understood her. Fancy your meeting Lady Baldock at Oswald's house!" "Fancy Augusta Boreham turning nun!" "How exquisitely grotesque it must have been when she made her complaint to you." "I pitied her with all my heart." "Of course you did,—because you are so soft. And now, Phineas, we will put it off no longer. Tell me all that you have to tell me about him." About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Anthony Trollope (2006). Phineas Redux. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/18640/pg18640-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

THE TRUANT WIFE.

ANOTHER MAN'S WIFE

Grimm's Fairy Tales by Jacob and Milhelm Grimm, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . THE FISHERMAN AND HIS WIFE THE FISHERMAN AND HIS WIFE There was once on a time, a Fisherman who lived with his wife in a miserable hovel close by the sea, and every day he went out fishing. And once, as he was sitting with his rod, looking at the clear water, his line suddenly went down, far down below, and when he drew it up again, he brought out a large Flounder. Then the Flounder said to him: “Hark, you Fisherman, I pray you, let me live. I am no Flounder really, but an enchanted Prince. What good will it do you to kill me? I should not be good to eat. Put me in the water again, and let me go.” “Come,” said the Fisherman, “there is no need for so many words about it—a fish that can talk I should certainly let go, anyhow.” With that he put him back again into the clear water, and the Flounder went to the bottom, leaving a long streak of blood behind him. Then the Fisherman got up and went home to his wife in the hovel. “Husband,” said the woman, “have you caught nothing to-day?” “No,” said the man, “I did catch a Flounder, who said he was an enchanted Prince, so I let him go again.” “Did you not wish for anything first?” said the woman. “No,” said the man; “what should I wish for?” “Ah,” said the woman, “it is surely hard to have to live always in this dirty hovel. You might have wished for a small cottage for us. Go back and call him. Tell him we want to have a small cottage. He will certainly give us that.” “Ah,” said the man, “why should I go there again?” “Why,” said the woman, “you did catch him, and you let him go again. He is sure to do it. Go at once.” The man still did not quite like to go, but did not want to oppose his wife, and went to the sea. When he got there the sea was all green and yellow, and no longer smooth. So he stood and said: “Flounder, Flounder in the sea, Come, I pray thee, here to me; For my wife, Dame Ilsabil, Wills not as I’d have her will.” Then the Flounder came swimming to him and said, “Well, what does she want, then?” “Ah,” said the man, “I did catch you, and my wife says I really ought to have wished for something. She does not like to live in a wretched hovel any longer. She would like to have a cottage.” “Go, then,” said the Flounder, “she has it already.” When the man got home, his wife was no longer in the hovel. But instead of it, there stood a small cottage, and she was sitting on a bench before the door. Then she took him by the hand and said to him, “Just come inside, look. Now isn’t this a great deal better?” So they went in, and there was a small porch, and a pretty little parlor and bedroom, and a kitchen and pantry, with the best of furniture, and fitted up with the most beautiful things made of tin and brass, whatsoever was wanted. And behind the cottage, there was a small yard, with hens and ducks, and a little garden with flowers and fruit. “Look,” said the wife, “is not that nice!” “Yes,” said the husband, “and so we must always think it,—now we will live quite contented.” “We will think about that,” said the wife. With that they ate something and went to bed. Everything went well for a week or a fortnight, and then the woman said, “Hark you, Husband, this cottage is far too small for us, and the garden and yard are little. The Flounder might just as well have given us a larger house. I should like to live in a great stone castle. Go to the Flounder, and tell him to give us a castle.” “Ah, Wife,” said the man, “the cottage is quite good enough. Why should we live in a castle?” “What!” said the woman; “go at once, the Flounder can always do that.” “No, Wife,” said the man, “the Flounder has just given us the cottage. I do not like to go back so soon, it might make him angry.” “Go,” said the woman, “he can do it quite easily, and will be glad to do it. Just you go to him.” The man’s heart grew heavy, and he did not wish to go. He said to himself, “It is not right,” and yet he went. And when he came to the sea, the water was quite purple and dark-blue, and gray and thick, and no longer green and yellow, but it was still quiet. And he stood there and said: “Flounder, Flounder in the sea, Come, I pray thee, here to me; For my wife, Dame Ilsabil, Wills not as I’d have her will.” “Well, what does she want, now?” said the Flounder. “Alas,” said the man, half scared, “she wants to live in a great stone castle.” “Go to it, then, she is standing before the door,” said the Flounder. Then the man went home, and when he got there, he found a great stone palace, and his wife was just standing on the steps going in. She took him by the hand and said, “Come in.” So he went with her, and in the castle was a great hall paved with marble, and many servants, who flung wide the doors. The walls were all bright with beautiful hangings, and in the rooms were chairs and tables of pure gold. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and all the rooms and bedrooms had carpets. Food and wine of the very best were standing on all the tables, so that they nearly broke down beneath it. Behind the house, too, there was a great courtyard, with stables for horses and cows, and the very best of carriages. There was a magnificent large garden, too, with the most beautiful flowers and fruit-trees, and a park quite half a mile long, in which were stags, deer, and hares, and everything that could be desired. “Come,” said the woman, “isn’t that beautiful?” “Yes, indeed,” said the man, “now let it be; and we will live in this beautiful castle and be content.” “We will consider about that,” said the woman, “and sleep upon it;” thereupon they went to bed. Next morning, the wife awoke first. It was just daybreak, and from her bed she saw the beautiful country lying before her. Her husband was still stretching himself, so she poked him in the side with her elbow, and said, “Get up, Husband, and just peep out of the window. Look you, couldn’t we be the King over all that land? Go to the Flounder, we will be the King.” “Ah, Wife,” said the man, “why should we be King? I do not want to be King.” “Well,” said the wife, “if you won’t be King, I will. Go to the Flounder, for I will be King.” “Ah, Wife,” said the man, “why do you want to be King? I do not like to say that to him.” “Why not?” said the woman; “go to him at once. I must be King!” So the man went, and was quite unhappy because his wife wished to be King. “It is not right; it is not right,” thought he. He did not wish to go, but yet he went. And when he came to the sea, it was quite dark-gray, and the water heaved up from below, and smelt putrid. Then he went and stood by it, and said: “Flounder, Flounder in the sea, Come, I pray thee, here to me; For my wife, Dame Ilsabil, Wills not as I’d have her will.” “Well, what does she want, now?” said the Flounder. “Alas,” said the man, “she wants to be King.” “Go to her; she is King already.” So the man went, and when he came to the palace, the castle had become much larger, and had a great tower and magnificent ornaments. The sentinel was standing before the door, and there were numbers of soldiers with kettledrums and trumpets. And when he went inside the house, everything was of real marble and gold, with velvet covers and great golden tassels. Then the doors of the hall were opened, and there was the Court in all its splendor, and his wife was sitting on a high throne of gold and diamonds, with a great crown of gold on her head, and a sceptre of pure gold and jewels in her hand. On both sides of her, stood her maids-in-waiting in a row, each of them always one head shorter than the last. Then he went and stood before her, and said, “Ah, Wife, and now you are King.” “Yes,” said the woman, “now I am King.” So he stood and looked at her, and when he had looked at her thus for some time, he said, “And now that you are King, let all else be, we will wish for nothing more.” “Nay, Husband,” said the woman, quite anxiously, “I find time pass very heavily, I can bear it no longer. Go to the Flounder—I am King, but I must be Emperor, too.” “Alas, Wife, why do you wish to be Emperor?” “Husband,” said she, “go to the Flounder. I will be Emperor.” “Alas, Wife,” said the man, “he cannot make you Emperor. I may not say that to the fish. There is only one Emperor in the land. An Emperor, the Flounder cannot make you! I assure you he cannot.” “What!” said the woman, “I am the King, and you are nothing but my husband. Will you go this moment? go at once! If he can make a King, he can make an Emperor. I will be Emperor. Go instantly.” So he was forced to go. As the man went, however, he was troubled in mind, and thought to himself, “It will not end well! It will not end well! Emperor is too shameless! The Flounder will at last be tired out.” With that, he reached the sea, and the sea was quite black and thick, and began to boil up from below, so that it threw up bubbles. And such a sharp wind blew over it that it curdled, and the man was afraid. Then he went and stood by it, and said: “Flounder, Flounder in the sea, Come, I pray thee, here to me; For my wife, Dame Ilsabil, Wills not as I’d have her will.” “Well, what does she want, now?” said the Flounder. “Alas, Flounder,” said he, “my wife wants to be Emperor.” “Go to her,” said the Flounder; “she is Emperor already.” So the man went, and when he got there the whole palace was made of polished marble with alabaster figures and golden ornaments. And soldiers were marching before the door blowing trumpets, and beating cymbals and drums. In the house, barons, and counts, and dukes were going about as servants. Then they opened the doors to him, which were of pure gold. And when he entered, there sat his wife on a throne, which was made of one piece of gold, and was quite two miles high; and she wore a great golden crown that was three yards high, and set with diamonds and carbuncles. In one hand she had the sceptre, and in the other the imperial orb. And on both sides of her stood the yeomen of the guard in two rows, each being smaller than the one before him, from the biggest Giant, who was two miles high, to the very smallest Dwarf, just as big as my little finger. And before it stood a number of princes and dukes. Then the man went and stood among than, and said, “Wife, are you Emperor now?” “Yes,” said she, “now I am Emperor.” Then he stood and looked at her well, and when he had looked at her thus for some time, he said, “Ah, Wife, be content, now that you are Emperor.” “Husband,” said she, “why are you standing there? Now, I am Emperor, but I will be Pope too. Go to the Flounder.” “Alas, Wife,” said the man, “what will you not wish for? You cannot be Pope. There is but one in Christendom. He cannot make you Pope.” “Husband,” said she, “I will be Pope. Go immediately. I must be Pope this very day.” “YES,” SAID SHE “NOW I AM EMPEROR” “No, Wife,” said the man, “I do not like to say that to him; that would not do, it is too much. The Flounder can’t make you Pope.” “Husband,” said she, “what nonsense! if he can make an Emperor he can make a Pope. Go to him directly. I am Emperor, and you are nothing but my husband. Will you go at once?” Then he was afraid and went. But he was quite faint, and shivered and shook, and his knees and legs trembled. And a high wind blew over the land, and the clouds flew, and toward evening all grew dark, and the leaves fell from the trees, and the water rose and roared as if it were boiling, and splashed upon the shore. In the distance he saw ships which were firing guns in their sore need, pitching and tossing on the waves. And yet in the midst of the sky, there was still a small bit of blue, though on every side it was as red as in a heavy storm. So, full of despair, he went and stood in much fear, and said: “Flounder, Flounder in the sea, Come, I pray thee, here to me; For my wife, Dame Ilsabil, Wills not as I’d have her will.” “Well, what does she want, now?” said the Flounder. “Alas,” said the man, “she wants to be Pope.” “Go to her then,” said the Flounder; “she is Pope already.” So he went, and when he got there, he saw what seemed to be a large church surrounded by palaces. He pushed his way through the crowd. Inside, however, everything was lighted with thousands and thousands of candles, and his wife was clad in gold, and she was sitting on a much higher throne, and had three great golden crowns on, and round about her there was much churchly splendor. And on both sides of her was a row of candles, the largest of which was as tall as the very tallest tower, down to the very smallest kitchen candle; and all the emperors and kings were on their knees before her, kissing her shoe. 50 “Wife,” said the man, and looked attentively at her, “are you now Pope?” “Yes,” said she, “I am Pope.” So he stood and looked at her, and it was just as if he was looking at the bright sun. When he had stood looking at her thus for a short time, he said, “Ah, Wife, if you are Pope, do let well alone!” But she looked as stiff as a post, and did not move or show any signs of life. Then said he, “Wife, now that you are Pope, be satisfied, you cannot become anything greater.” “I will consider about that,” said the woman. Thereupon they both went to bed. But she was not satisfied, and greediness let her have no sleep, for she was continually thinking what there was left for her to be. The man slept well and soundly, for he had run about a great deal during the day. But the woman could not fall asleep at all, and flung herself from one side to the other the whole night through, thinking what more was left for her to be, but unable to call to mind anything else. At length the sun began to rise, and when the woman saw the red of dawn, she sat up in bed and looked at it. And when, through the window, she saw the sun thus rising, she said, “Cannot I, too, order the sun and moon to rise?” “Husband,” said she, poking him in the ribs with her elbows, “wake up! go to the Flounder, for I wish to be even as God is.” 51 The man was still half asleep, but he was so horrified that he fell out of bed. He thought he must have heard amiss, and rubbed his eyes, and said, “Alas, Wife, what are you saying?” “Husband,” said she, “if I can’t order the sun and moon to rise, and have to look on and see the sun and moon rising, I can’t bear it. I shall not know what it is to have another happy hour, unless I can make them rise myself.” Then she looked at him so terribly that a shudder ran over him, and said, “Go at once. I wish to be like unto God.” “Alas, Wife,” said the man, falling on his knees before her, “the Flounder cannot do that. He can make an Emperor and a Pope. I beseech you, go on as you are, and be Pope.” Then she fell into a rage, and her hair flew wildly about her head, and she cried, “I will not endure this, I’ll not bear it any longer. Will you go?” Then he put on his trousers and ran away like a madman. But outside a great storm was raging, and blowing so hard that he could scarcely keep his feet. Houses and trees toppled over, mountains trembled, rocks rolled into the sea, the sky was pitch black, and it thundered and lightened. And the sea came in with black waves as high as church-towers and mountains, and all with crests of white foam at the top. Then he cried, but could not hear his own words: “Flounder, Flounder in the sea, Come, I pray thee, here to me; For my wife, Dame Ilsabil, Wills not as I’d have her will.” “Well; what does she want, now?” said the Flounder. “Alas,” said he, “she wants to be like unto God.” “Go to her, and you will find her back again in the dirty hovel.” And there they are living at this very time. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Jacob Grimm and Wilhelm Grimm (2016). Grimm's Fairy Tales. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022, https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/52521/pg52521-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html.

THE FISHERMAN AND HIS WIFE

First and Last Things by H. G. Wells, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . THE CASE OF THE WIFE AND MOTHER THE CASE OF THE WIFE AND MOTHER. These principles give a rule also for the problem that faces the great majority of thinking wives and mothers to-day. The most urgent and necessary social work falls upon them; they bear, and largely educate and order the homes of, the next generation, and they have no direct recognition from the community for either of these supreme functions. They are supposed to perform them not for God or the world, but to please and satisfy a particular man. Our laws, our social conventions, our economic methods, so hem a woman about that, however fitted for and desirous of maternity she may be, she can only effectually do that duty in a dependent relation to her husband. Nearly always he is the paymaster, and if his payments are grudging or irregular, she has little remedy short of a breach and the rupture of the home. Her duty is conceived of as first to him and only secondarily to her children and the State. Many wives become under these circumstances mere prostitutes to their husbands, often evading the bearing of children with their consent and even at their request, and “loving for a living.” That is a natural outcome of the proprietary theory of the family out of which our civilization emerges. But our modern ideas trend more and more to regard a woman’s primary duty to be her duty to the children and to the world to which she gives them. She is to be a citizen side by side with her husband; no longer is he to intervene between her and the community. As a matter of contemporary fact he can do so and does so habitually, and most women have to square their ideas of life to that possibility. Before any woman who is clear-headed enough to perceive that this great business of motherhood is one of supreme public importance, there are a number of alternatives at the present time. She may, like Grant Allan’s heroine in “The Woman Who Did,” declare an exaggerated and impossible independence, refuse the fetters of marriage and bear children to a lover. This, in the present state of public opinion in almost every existing social atmosphere, would be a purely anarchistic course. It would mean a fatherless home, and since the woman will have to play the double part of income-earner and mother, an impoverished and struggling home. It would mean also an unsocial because ostracized home. In most cases, and even assuming it to be right in idea, it would still be on all fours with that immediate abandonment of private property we have already discussed, a sort of suicide that helps the world nothing. Or she may “strike,” refuse marriage and pursue a solitary and childless career, engaging her surplus energies in constructive work. But that also is suicide; it is to miss the keenest experiences, the finest realities life has to offer. Or she may meet a man whom she can trust to keep a treaty with her and supplement the common interpretations and legal insufficiencies of the marriage bond, who will respect her always as a free and independent person, will abstain absolutely from authoritative methods, and will either share and trust his income and property with her in a frank communism, or give her a sufficient and private income for her personal use. It is only fair under existing economic conditions that at marriage a husband should insure his life in his wife’s interest, and I do not think it would be impossible to bring our legal marriage contract into accordance with modern ideas in that matter. Certainly it should be legally imperative that at the birth of each child a new policy upon its father’s life, as the income-getter, should begin. The latter provision at least should be a normal condition of marriage and one that the wife should have power to enforce when payments fall away. With such safeguards and under such conditions marriage ceases to be a haphazard dependence for a woman, and she may live, teaching and rearing and free, almost as though the co-operative commonwealth had come. But in many cases, since great numbers of women marry so young and so ignorantly that their thinking about realities begins only after marriage, a woman will find herself already married to a man before she realizes the significance of these things. She may be already the mother of children. Her husband’s ideas may not be her ideas. He may dominate, he may prohibit, he may intervene, he may default. He may, if he sees fit, burthen the family income with the charges of his illegitimate offspring. We live in the world as it is and not in the world as it should be. That sentence becomes the refrain of this discussion. The normal modern married woman has to make the best of a bad position, to do her best under the old conditions, to live as though she was under the new conditions, to make good citizens, to give her spare energies as far as she can to bringing about a better state of affairs. Like the private property owner and the official in a privately owned business, her best method of conduct is to consider herself an unrecognized public official, irregularly commanded and improperly paid. There is no good in flagrant rebellion. She has to study her particular circumstances and make what good she can out of them, keeping her face towards the coming time. I cannot better the image I have already used for the thinking and believing modern-minded people of to-day as an advance guard cut off from proper supplies, ill furnished so that makeshift prevails, and rather demoralized. We have to be wise as well as loyal; discretion itself is loyalty to the coming State. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. H. G. Wells (2009). First and Last Things: A Confession of Faith and Rule of Life. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022, https://www.gutenberg.org/files/4225/4225-h/4225-h.htm This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html .

THE CASE OF THE WIFE AND MOTHER

I’ve named “Not a Vessel” to honor my wife and all the women who fight to preserve their identity through pregnancy. this Hashmask The following is our story. is a fine art collection of 16,384 unique pieces. It allows the owner of a piece to name it, with the name stored in the Ethereum blockchain. Some contain hidden traits like my wife’s Hashmask with her glyph of a pregnant woman on the top left. The Hashmasks We knew nothing when my wife was pregnant with our first child. We had no idea about pregnancy, birth, or being parents. We were both excited and terrified, same as all first-time parents-to-be. My wife, though, had been doing her research. She was doing everything to stay as healthy as possible and was looking forward to giving birth even though she knew it would be grueling. She’s a strong woman. Then, towards the end, and after being told twice that our son wasn’t growing, we got a scan. Our son was growing alright but his head was pointing up with the umbilical cord around his neck. Now, this sounds scary, but as long as he remained in the womb he’d be absolutely fine. The issue would be coming out as the baby could suffer brain damage if the head got stuck for too long. We discussed the possibility of still having a natural birth at length with the director of the maternity unit in one of the world’s best hospitals, to be certain of the risks. Although a natural birth was certainly possible the risk of harming our son was too high. The recommendation was to have a planned C-section instead. It was the best choice considering the odds. On the appointed day we went to the hospital and proceeded into an operating room. Then our son was extracted from my wife’s womb. The amazement of having a child hid the experience’s awfulness. We didn’t know any of the people in the operating room. My wife still is obsessed with the fact that she didn’t even take her shoes off. The post-partum was even worse. A C-section is major surgery. My wife couldn’t even stand to help her crying baby. She kept being told to “rest” while also getting people into her room every couple of hours for needless consultations, cleaning, food delivery, even to be offered photography services. The noise from the corridor was unbearable. She was supposed to stay three days. We left after two so that she could actually rest. Now, don’t get me wrong. It was an excellent medical facility. The staff members were impeccable professionals. The issue is that a hospital, as exceptional as it may be, is still a hospital. It will never be a comfortable place. When my wife got pregnant the second time she saw an opportunity to have a natural birth ( ). She wanted to have as little medical intervention as possible without incurring any unreasonable risks for her or our baby. with her shoes off! After a lot of careful research, she decided that she wanted to have our daughter at home. I was skeptical at first. Wasn’t that dangerous? What if something went wrong? What were the risks? As it turns out home births aren’t that risky. Medically trained midwives come to your home with enough diagnostic equipment to monitor the situation, knowledge to assess it and there’s a plan B of how and when to fall back to the hospital if there are complications. I can see the raising eyebrows; I raised mine. That cannot be zero-risk. There’s a risk to the baby and to the mother. This could end in disaster! Well, yes, like anything in life reducing any risk to the absolute zero usually involves huge sacrifices. I’m risk-averse when it’s reasonable to do so. My wife researched home births thoroughly and convinced me that the risks were comparable to giving birth in a hospital. Still not convinced? Please read about the and come back. cascade of intervention My wife came home crying after disclosing her home birth intention to the lead obstetrician. I started to fear for her mental health because I knew she was gearing up for a fight against the medical establishment and the chances of victory were slim. During her first pregnancy, she went into the operating room because it seemed the best thing to do. My concern this time was that she’d fight for months only to be forced somehow back into the operating room. She’s strong. She doesn’t give up a fight. She would be badly hurt if defeated again. I didn’t want her to take on this struggle. I begged her to concede but to no avail. I had to side with her. We’re married, you know. For better or worse, we’re a team. Through several months of consultations at the birth clinic, she surreptitiously assembled her own adept birth team. There would be two hardened midwives specialized in home births to take care of the baby on her flanks, one doula centered on her care plus me taking up the rear guard to speak in her name if she couldn’t. The medical establishment would not go gentle into that good night. There was a salvo of warnings: , , . More frequent consultations were suggested. The baby was growing slowly. We slid from the 25th percentile to the 17th percentile… “if it drops under the 10th percentile she should be induced,” they casually sniped. advanced age for childbearing her iron was low her amniotic fluid was low There were trust issues too. The birth clinic got paid per consultation. Was that the reason they wanted to engage more by stacking on added consultations? Measuring a baby in the womb has an enormous margin of error. Could we trust that; should we? Who could we trust? My wife would cry after each consultation. There was nothing wrong with the baby or was there? Was she doing the right thing? Did she have to capitulate and accept a hospital birth? Why, exactly? Eventually our trust in the birth clinic evaporated. Our confidence had coalesced on the midwives. My wife went AWOL on the last consultation. What was the point of being told that our baby was small and we should go to the hospital? We knew what the in utero test said and weren’t convinced that the medical establishment was right. My wife went into labor a couple of weeks later. The doula came to support us when the labor gathered pace. We called the midwives a couple of hours later. The birth team was assembled and at the ready. Our daughter’s birth wasn’t painless but it was flawless. My wife gave birth in our bedroom with the help of her birth team, myself, and even my five-year-old son. Everything went fine, better than the last time. My daughter went from my wife’s womb into our bedroom where she spent the first few days as if in a larger womb. Then she started discovering the world one room at a time followed by one face and one street at a time. We were relaxed and comfortable. My wife recovered easily. Our daughter came into this world healthy and beautiful. We were never close to danger at any point. My wife fought hard to preserve her identity and agency despite being pregnant. She shouldn’t have had to do it but she fought tooth and nail to be treated as her own person, her own person who was pregnant with a child that she cared about as only a mother can. She fought to not be a faceless vessel for a child. For that reason, I’m naming in her honor and in the honor of the women who fight to preserve their identity during pregnancy. this Hashmask Not a Vessel Obligatory Legal Disclaimer: Nothing in the personal story should be interpreted as medical advice nor should it be relied on as a substitute for a licensed medical professional’s opinion. The reader is advised to consult all medical resources available before making any decisions that could impact one’s well-being.

My Wife: A Strong Woman, Not a Vessel

Want to hear my favorite perk of getting married? Beware, it’s pretty dorky… You ready? Access to my wife’s data. I was in search of my next side project about four months ago. My wife quickly volunteered me to handle her Etsy product advertising on Facebook. She wanted to take her listings on Etsy and quickly create campaigns using product images, titles, and descriptions. After a night of painfully searching for the same images used on Etsy while copying/pasting endless descriptions and titles I started to think to myself, . marketing “there’s got to be an easier way” My engineering brain kicked into gear. I spent the rest of that night researching the Etsy and Facebook APIs. If you aren’t sure what an API is, good for you, you probably have a life, enjoying bottomless mimosa brunches with your besties. Essentially it’s a (sometimes) free way for programmers to gain access to data from companies like Etsy, and Facebook. I put two and two together. I could use the Etsy API to take my wife’s listings and programmatically move those over to Facebook Ads. Yay technology! My wife was surprised when she woke up the next morning and asked about how the progress was going. I moderately answered, “Wellllll, I wasn’t able to create your Ad last night, BUT…. I did do some research into..” She cut me off. “Wait! So we don’t have an ad created yet?” I then went on to tell her how lazy I am and why it would take forever to create an ad by manually searching for the same images she used for her listings, why it would take forever to copy and paste titles and descriptions into an Ad campaign. I also made the point that Facebook’s Ad manager is a pain to use! Have you seen that thing!? I didn’t know it at the time but I was coming up with my . I was trying to find . Her eyes started to gloss over, but in the end, she was onboard with the idea. So I got to work. value proposition product market fit I first started by creating an App using . Etsy offers a way for developers to easily access their API. They give you basic access using an API key so that you can get started working right away. Etsy’s developer platform There’s two types of access, , and Provisional access allows for read-only access to any unauthenticated resource. allows authenticated read/write access for unlimited Etsy members. You also get to list your application in their App Gallery. Although my application didn’t need write access, I still needed access to authenticated resources such as images, shop info, etc. So I requested and got access to my API keys. The next step was to setup an authentication flow using OAuth. Provisional Access Full Access. Full Access While scouring Etsy’s I noticed every example was written in PHP. What is this 2007? I was planning on writing my backend using Python. So I spent a couple hours translating their PHP code to Python. I used the library to fetch my access tokens. OAuth documentation requests-oauthlib Around this time, a few other areas of the product began to take shape. First, In order to create Facebook Ads I needed to create a using their developer platform. So I went to and began the process. You have to create what they call an App ID. Facebook app www.developers.facebook.com Second, I needed to host my application somewhere. I began to look at the different cloud solutions out there and decided on Amazon Web Services. I used AWS because it was what I was most comfortable with. I used Python/Django for my backend and there’s some on creating an Elastic Beanstalk application using the AWS CLI. good documentation Third, I needed a backend database to store API keys and additional global application information. So I added an Amazon RDS database to my Elastic Beanstalk environment. This was actually really easy to setup using this as a guide. The hardest part was deciding on what tiered storage to use. I went with the cheapest option. I wanted to get a working prototype up without spending a bunch of time making premature optimizations. The point of an MVP (minimum viable product) is to simply get it out the door and optimize as you progress. documentation Fourth, I needed a front end for my website. I had previously been using AngularJS for all of my client side JavaScript projects but I kept reading about ReactJS, so I decided to give it a shot. To make things easier on myself I decided to use an “admin framework” properly named . The admin-on-rest framework offered my everything that I needed. It had one, easy to use ES6 module for interacting with JSON APIs. It had an admin-style UI with menu bars and routing already built in. I used Amazon S3 to host a “static website” using this as a guide. admin-on-rest great Medium write-up Lastly, I needed to setup a way to accept payments. Like most developers, I hadn’t even thought about the business side of my work. This started off as a side project and I slowly began to see value in it. I started to think, I didn’t have a payment model fleshed out. So I started to bounce around some ideas. I quickly came up with a freemium model which allows users to create Facebook ads and interact with the platform in a limited fashion, all the while incentivizing them to upgrade. I used easy to use APIs and form creators to quickly setup a payment pipeline. Rather than developing a bunch of logic around the , Moonclerk abstracts that all away for you. It really sped up the development process. The good thing is it allows me to switch over to using a custom implementation of Stripe later on down the line. “hell, if my wife’s Etsy store could benefit from this tool, so could others.” Moonclerk’s Stripe API For the next few months, I spent nights, weekends and lunch breaks cranking out a working prototype. If you ran into me during this two-month stretch, I’m sorry. Any developer knows that when you’re knee deep in a project, it tends to consume your well-being. My relationship with my family suffered. I would catch myself tuning my boss, wife, or uber driver out while they spoke only to find myself thinking of my next database query, REST endpoint or marketing API call. I started to slip into a small depression only released by late night code commits to Github. This whole time developing I was also trying to locate and interact with my target audience. I joined some Etsy groups on Facebook, began chatting with some of the ladies (and a few gentlemen) and started to hear their pain points on getting traffic to their shops. Lot’s of folks were mentioning SEO and advertising, so I knew I was on the right track. Endless cups of coffee, multiple face palms and a few gray hairs later, I had a working application hosted on AWS. I threw together a using Squarespace with a signup form at the bottom. I shopped it around and started to build my list of beta users! SaaS marketing website And that’s where we are today. We’ve gotten some traction and a handful of daily users. I’ve quickly learned that building something that people want is a marathon. It takes a relentless drive to get your product in front of people, hear what they have to say and iterate on the feature requests that make sense. Signing up users is easy, having them whip out their credit card is a whole different beast with different challenges, that frankly, I am terrible at and am still working on perfecting. I’ve never had to think about things like marketing funnels and payment models. It’s been a hell of a learning experience with lots of ups and downs, and it’s only been 4 months! I’m excited to expand the platform to include more social media outlets like Pinterest, Instagram, and Twitter. Also, including support for other online retail platforms like eBay and Amazon. Please reach out if you have any questions, comments, gripes, etc… Even if you want to tell me I’m open to hearing about it. I’m all for building products people actually use! this is the worst idea in the history of SaaS Interested in learning more about my SaaS platform? Check out NewClick, our advertising platform built for Etsy sellers Want to learn more about the author? Click here Want to learn more about my wife’s Etsy store? Click here

How hacking my wife’s Etsy business led to my first SaaS product

I’ve come up with a new game. Maybe others have played before. But in my world, I invented it while on an airplane, and here are the rules: Open Apple Notes app. Husband asks wife for one word. Wife says word. Husband opens new note and types word. Then Apple’s AI suggested three words. Husband chooses one of the three suggested words. Then Apple’s AI suggested 3 more words, and husband chooses word again. This process continues until the short story, or sentence, is deemed “complete.” For more enjoyment, husband should read sentence aloud as he makes word choices. Note: husband/wife role reversals are welcome — this is just how the game was invented. Now that you understand the game, below are selected writings listed in alphabetical order by me, my wife, and Apple’s artificial intelligence. If you’d like to play the game, please share your selected writings as a response to this post. “Babies” Babies have been too busy for the past few months. “Beauty” Beauty is the best thing ever and it doesn’t seem to work. “Birthday” Birthday party today or not? “Colors” Colors are cool but it’s not very cool to get the pictures. “Dessert” Dessert is the only thing that is not very nerdy. “Diarrhea” Diarrhea is the worst. “Die” Die hard and I can’t wait. “Dress” Dress up for your business trip and get your own car. “Ego” Ego can make you feel like you are a great person. “Expectation” Expectation is the only metric that we could have. “Facade” Facade is the only one to pick. “Family” Family is the best thing ever and I’m getting more. “Fart” Fart on Twitter. “Feet” Feet are not the only metric system “Good” Good morning my baby. “Hotel” Hotel booked for the next year but I’m still sleeping with my mom. “Is” Is there is. “Italian” Italian food is good. “Kiss” Kiss my baby hand and I can pick you up for a moment. “Less” Less than half of my life has been made up for the last two years. “Mayor” Mayor says she has been trying to sell the company for her new job. “Medium” Medium is the same thing as you. “Midnight” Midnight memories of my baby. “Mirror” Mirror selfie with the best player on Facebook. “Mother” Mother and daughter are the only ones that I have. “Newton” Newton was the only person who would ever have any more important details about the future. “Only” Only the good die young. “Only” (2nd time w/ different choices) Only if you like the game but you can’t play. “Poop” Poop on Twitter. “Presence” Presence of my business is the only thing that I have. “Puns ” Puns are my favorite part of the day. “Really” Really want some more stuff. “Run” Run out to get the new job. “Serendipity” Serendipity is the best thing ever. “Singing” Singing the same song on the phone with my mom and daughter and mom and daughter are cool. “Skiing” Skiing with my dad is the best. “Sleepy” Sleepy but I’m getting more excited. “Slow” Slow down and I can’t even play. “Socks” Socks are on my mind. “Stains” Stains from my baby. “Taste” Taste like the star spangled and she looks at me. “The” The best thing about this is how you get to see what your friends do. “Today” Today was the first week to go out with my new car. “Toes” Toes are the only ones that are not very good. “Toilet” Toilet paper is the most beautiful thing ever. “Turn” Turn it up! “Wedding” Wedding cake with my friends and I love it. “Young” Young people who would. If you’d like to play the game, please share “your” selected writings as a response to this post.

Selected Writings by Me, My Wife & Apple’s Artificial Intelligence.

Biohackers Say They Have Cracked the Code to Producing Healthier Babies

Els biohackers diuen que han trencat el codi per produir nadons més sans

Los biohackers dicen haber descifrado el código para producir bebés más sanos

Biohackerrek haurtxo osasuntsuagoak sortzeko kodea hautsi dutela diote

Biohakeri kažu da su razbili šifru za proizvodnju zdravije djece

バイオハッカーはより健康な赤ちゃんを産むためのコードを解読したと主張

Биохаккерлер дені сау сәбилерді дүниеге әкелу кодын бұзды дейді

Biohackers nisqakunan ninku, aswan qhali wawakunata paqarichinankupaq Código nisqatan p’akisqankuta

Biohackeri tvrdia, že prelomili kódex na výrobu zdravších detí

MaBiohackers Vanoti Vakatyora Mutemo Wekubereka Vacheche Vane Utano

ไบโอแฮกเกอร์เผยว่าพวกเขาสามารถไขรหัสเพื่อให้ผลิตทารกที่แข็งแรงขึ้นได้

Biohackers sagdyn bäbekleri öndürmek üçin kodlary bozandyklaryny aýdýarlar

Va Biohackers Va Vula Leswaku Va Pfuxe Nawu Yo Humesa Tincece Leti Hanyeke kahle

From WhatsApp to Web3: How Kaia is Turning 200M Asian Users into Crypto Natives

От WhatsApp до Web3: Как Kaia превръща 200 милиона азиатски потребители в Crypto Natives

হোয়াটসঅ্যাপ থেকে ওয়েব 3 পর্যন্ত: কাইয়া কীভাবে 200 মিলিয়ন এশিয়ান ব্যবহারকারীদের ক্রিপ্টো নেটিভগুলিতে পরিণত করছে

De WhatsApp a Web3: cómo Kaia está convirtiendo a 200 millones de usuarios asiáticos en criptonautas

Dari WhatsApp ke Web3: Bagaimana Kaia Mengubah 200 Juta Pengguna Asia Menjadi Pengguna Kripto Asli

WhatsApp から Web3 へ: Kaia が 2 億人のアジア ユーザーを暗号通貨ネイティブに変える方法

WhatsApp-დან Web3-მდე: როგორ აქცევს კაია 200 მილიონ აზიელ მომხმარებელს კრიპტო მკვიდრებად

Go tloga go WhatsApp go ya go Web3: Kamoo Kaia e Fetošago Badiriši ba 200M ba Asia go ba Ma-Crypto Natives

WhatsAppmanta Web3kama: Imaynatataq Kaia 200M Asiamanta Usuariokunata Crypto Nativokunaman tikrachkan

От WhatsApp до Web3: как Kaia превращает 200 миллионов азиатских пользователей в криптоаборигенов

Från WhatsApp till Web3: Hur Kaia förvandlar 200 miljoner asiatiska användare till kryptoinfödda

ካብ ዋትስኣፕ ናብ ዌብ3፡ ካያ ከመይ ጌራ ን200M ኤስያውያን ተጠቀምቲ ናብ ተወለድቲ ክሪፕቶ ትቕይሮም ኣላ

Từ WhatsApp đến Web3: Kaia đang biến 200 triệu người dùng Châu Á thành người bản xứ tiền điện tử như thế nào

In my ongoing journey of personal transformation, I've encountered a fundamental truth about human potential that neuroscience has long confirmed, our capacity for change lies not just in our desires, but in our will-power, that remarkable force generated by our prefrontal cortex, the executive center of our brain. Today, on this first Sunday of 2025, I found myself in an unexpected place, seated with my family in LDS Vaini Ward 3, participating in a worship service that stands in stark contrast to what many who know me might expect. The skeptical comments that followed my wife's Facebook post about our attendance revealed a truth about human perception, we often become imprisoned by others' expectations of who we are, or rather, who we once were. What these well-meaning friends don't understand is that will-power isn't just about resistance, it's about growth. The prefrontal cortex, that remarkable region of our brain responsible for executive functions and decision-making, exhibits a fascinating characteristic, it strengthens through challenge. Like a muscle responding to resistance training, this vital area of our brain actually expands when we persistently engage in activities outside our comfort zone. My journey from someone known for my fondness for alcohol to a person exploring different spiritual paths isn't about denying who I was, it's about embracing who I can become. The skepticism I've encountered serves as a powerful reminder of a lesson I've learned through experience, our capacity for change is limited only by our willingness to endure the discomfort of growth. This willingness to embrace discomfort, what I call my "high tolerance for doing things I don't enjoy", isn't just a personal quirk. It's a scientifically backed pathway to neural development. Each time we choose to persist in an challenging activity, whether it's attending an unfamiliar religious service or maintaining sobriety, we're not just making a choice, we're literally rebuilding our brain's architecture. In my previous reflection, I spoke about the necessity of self protection in a world where malevolence exists. Today, I realize that perhaps the greatest form of self protection is this very capacity for transformation, this ability to strengthen our prefrontal cortex through deliberate challenge. It's about protecting ourselves not just from external threats, but from the internal limitations we and others place upon ourselves. To those who might question this path, who might see it as inconsistent with who they believe me to be, I offer this insight, true strength lies not in remaining static, but in having the courage to evolve. The same will-power that allows me to face uncomfortable situations has become my tool for crafting a new narrative, one that transcends past habits and embraces new possibilities. As we progress through this new year, I challenge each of you to consider: What uncomfortable growth are you avoiding? What perceived limitations have you accepted as unchangeable truths? Remember, every time you persist in doing something challenging, you're not just changing your circumstances, you're literally rewiring your brain for greater resilience and capability. The road continues to unfold before us, and with each step into discomfort, with each choice to persist despite the challenge, we're not just walking this path, we're building it, neuron by neuron, choice by choice, into a bridge toward our highest potential. For in the end, will-power isn't just about resistance, it's about renaissance. The Journey Continues... In my ongoing journey of personal transformation, I've encountered a fundamental truth about human potential that neuroscience has long confirmed, our capacity for change lies not just in our desires, but in our will-power, that remarkable force generated by our prefrontal cortex, the executive center of our brain. Today, on this first Sunday of 2025, I found myself in an unexpected place, seated with my family in LDS Vaini Ward 3, participating in a worship service that stands in stark contrast to what many who know me might expect. The skeptical comments that followed my wife's Facebook post about our attendance revealed a truth about human perception, we often become imprisoned by others' expectations of who we are, or rather, who we once were. What these well-meaning friends don't understand is that will-power isn't just about resistance, it's about growth. The prefrontal cortex, that remarkable region of our brain responsible for executive functions and decision-making, exhibits a fascinating characteristic, it strengthens through challenge. Like a muscle responding to resistance training, this vital area of our brain actually expands when we persistently engage in activities outside our comfort zone. My journey from someone known for my fondness for alcohol to a person exploring different spiritual paths isn't about denying who I was, it's about embracing who I can become. The skepticism I've encountered serves as a powerful reminder of a lesson I've learned through experience, our capacity for change is limited only by our willingness to endure the discomfort of growth. This willingness to embrace discomfort, what I call my "high tolerance for doing things I don't enjoy", isn't just a personal quirk. It's a scientifically backed pathway to neural development. Each time we choose to persist in an challenging activity, whether it's attending an unfamiliar religious service or maintaining sobriety, we're not just making a choice, we're literally rebuilding our brain's architecture. In my previous reflection, I spoke about the necessity of self protection in a world where malevolence exists. Today, I realize that perhaps the greatest form of self protection is this very capacity for transformation, this ability to strengthen our prefrontal cortex through deliberate challenge. It's about protecting ourselves not just from external threats, but from the internal limitations we and others place upon ourselves. To those who might question this path, who might see it as inconsistent with who they believe me to be, I offer this insight, true strength lies not in remaining static, but in having the courage to evolve. The same will-power that allows me to face uncomfortable situations has become my tool for crafting a new narrative, one that transcends past habits and embraces new possibilities. As we progress through this new year, I challenge each of you to consider: What uncomfortable growth are you avoiding? What perceived limitations have you accepted as unchangeable truths? Remember, every time you persist in doing something challenging, you're not just changing your circumstances, you're literally rewiring your brain for greater resilience and capability. The road continues to unfold before us, and with each step into discomfort, with each choice to persist despite the challenge, we're not just walking this path, we're building it, neuron by neuron, choice by choice, into a bridge toward our highest potential. For in the end, will-power isn't just about resistance, it's about renaissance. The Journey Continues...

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