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Hey everybody, I am very proud and glad to share with you a review I've been wanting to do for a couple years now and that's for The Fault in Our Stars; a story about two teenagers with cancer who meet at a support group and fall in love with each other. I want to thank everyone here who has watched my videos so far, provided helpful feedback in terms of production quality as well as philosophical views on some of the stories, and I hope you continue to watch and share with newcomers!

Something struck me when I watched this movie last weekend (third viewing overall). For years, I thought the ship's design was completely asinine and served no practical purpose, unlike the corridors in Alien, which were creepy simply by virtue of being utilitarian (small, dimly lit, exposed exhaust manifolds, etc.). But I may have an explanation. Whether Claire killed herself during or after the Event Horizon's completion, her depression likely tortured Weir throughout their relationship and thus, the ship reflects Weir's emotional pain. I think it would've been interesting for the characters to discuss this: "Who designs a ship like this?" "Weir says everything has a purpose." "Do you believe him?" "I don't know. We are talking about a guy whose wife offed herself in a bathtub." "Yeah, I'd be surprised if we didn't see any of his demons here." And something else, I used to think a docking mechanism would be preferable to the central corridor explosives, but the latter may be less failure-prone and more effective in propelling the foredecks away from the singularity. If so, then this adds a great ethical dimension to Weir's character; in spite of scaring the crew, he gave them the best possible chance to survive if the gravity drive malfunctioned. Thoughts?

My dad died a week before my 8th birthday, after 2 weeks in the hospital. I'm 30 now. I've been doing a lot of introspection recently and I'm feeling a lot of pain about his death. One of the layers to this is, motivated by Stef's podcasts and all the books I have found through them, I have been telling the truth to myself about my mother's treatment of me and have distanced myself from her. She was abusive and she has shown me she is not interested in being honest with herself. Part of what is difficult for me to wrap my head around is that I don't really know my dad. I have shed the 4th Commandment that I must love my parents, but the memories I have of my dad are through the lens of an idolizing 7 year old daughter. I don't have the opportunity to find out what kind of person he is or have a relationship with him, and I feel sad and confused thinking about that. I remember the big bear hugs he used to give me when he was tucking me in at night. I remember his detailed and direct explanations. I know that even though he was raised religious and my mom was Christian, he was atheist. I know the shows he watched on TV. I don't remember him ever punishing me, and his mother (my grandma) told me that to her frustration, he always explained things to me at great length instead of disciplining me. Although, I do remember times where my mom was punishing me and getting angry with me while he stood by. And, he continued a relationship with his mother despite her un-empathetic treatment and rough discipline (though she claims she never spanked him). When I finally stopped using religion as self-medication about a year ago after finding FDR, the grief became raw again. He's NOT in a better place, I WON'T ever see him again, this WASN'T for a reason to make me stronger, etc. I'd like to achieve is complete honesty with myself, and part of that is admitting that it was really fucking painful, and it still is. I can't imagine any of my childhood friends living a healthy life if they lost their father. I remember the first time I calculated my ACE (Adverse Childhood Experiences) score, I got zero (= no adverse childhood experiences). Death of a parent was not on the test, and I was blocking out the abuse of my mother and her boyfriend out at the time. That is not the reality, though. I had a very traumatic and painful childhood. I've listened to/read a lot about the effects of child abuse, but I want to gain a better understanding of the effects of losing my father. It's tough to even find one book that isn't filled with religion, mysticism or idolization of parents. Does anyone have any recommended reading from an FDR type perspective? Thanks for reading, and any thoughts on how I can gain self-knowledge towards this and heal the trauma would be appreciated.

Can there be a sibling in my IFS, when I'm an only child? There were times in my youth when I often wished I'd had a brother. As a spindly and shy girl growing up, I rarely felt confident in myself. I spent a lot of time thinking, and would ponder how much better my life would be, if only I had a brother to give me advice, to protect me, and to share in the authority of my parents. A number of years later, my mom and I were sitting alone at the dining room table having a conversation. I think I was in my 30's at the time. Though I'm not sure how the topic came up, nor do I recall having mentioned it to her before, I admitted to her that I had always wished I'd had a sibling. It felt like I was confiding a big secret. Then, I asked her why she and dad had decided not to have any more children. She grew sad and her answer was not one I had expected. She told me that she got pregnant again within weeks after I was born. She went on to tell me that she had lost the baby in a miscarriage and it had been due to an error made by the doctor who had delivered me. (Alert for any men who get queasy at the mention of the birth process, be forewarned.) She said the doctor had neglected to remove the afterbirth after I was born and that it had caused the miscarriage of the pregnancy that followed. She said she was never able to get pregnant again afterwards. She began crying and I recall telling her how sorry I was. I got up and hugged her until she regained her composure. After the conversation, I had an overwhelming feeling that I was at fault somehow for the miscarriage. I'm not sure why I felt responsible, but I did. It was obviously the incompetence of an ill-trained doctor, but was it something in the way she had told me or was it something in the way I processed her answer to my question that made me feel otherwise? Though I didn't mention it to my mom (and we've never discussed it since), I went through a period of grief after that conversation. Grief for the loss of my sibling. Grief that I had somehow caused it. It was a deep sense of bereavement. To console myself through the grief, in my mind, I created the brother I never had. I mourned him. I embraced him. I visualized him. I imagined what it would have been like to grow up together. Did I answer the very question I began with? Do I carry him with me still? Upon reflection, I'd say yes, there can be a sibling in my IFS. Though I'm an only child, I feel I have a sibling and he lives in me. I'm not sure what role he plays yet. Perhaps he's been there all along as the one who helps me find answers to life's unknowns and the place to hide when I feel threatened. It seems time to pay him a visit and to get to know him better. I welcome any input from others who have experience with the IFS and can advise me if this is indeed possible. And also any input as to why I would have felt responsible for the loss.