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(One translation) of chapter 24 from the Egyptian Book of the Dead (Chapter for Bringing Magic to Ani) reads:

I am Atum-Khepri, who was himself created on the leg of his mother,

Giving jackals to those who are in the Celestial Ocean, and hunting dogs to the members of the Council.

Behold, I have gathered words of power in every place where they are, from whomever they are with,

Fleeter than greyhounds, quicker than a shadow.

O bringer of the boat of Ra, your sail-ropes are taut in the north wind when you sail to the Lake of Fire in the underworld.

Behold, you have gathered words of power in every place where they are, from whomever they are with,

Fleeter than greyhounds, quicker than a shadow,

Which makes its transformations on the thigh of Mut, when the gods are created in silence, and Mut gives warmth to the gods.

Behold, to me belong these words of power, from whomever they are with,

Fleeter than greyhounds, quicker than a shadow; otherwise said, quicker than a shadow.

I am having trouble discerning what this passage is saying. Any insight?

Thanks!

From my understanding, many pills kick in faster when chewed or allowed to dissolve in the mouth than when swallowed. Why is this?

My friend is on probation until late November under HYTA for misdemeanor larceny under $200. A few days ago, he was caught attempting to steal a $10 bottle of vodka. He's convinced that if he can postpone the actual court hearing for this second incident until after his probation period is over, he can't be charged with violating probation. Personally, I think that sounds absurd, but I thought I'd ask around and see if I can get an actual source with an answer. (Cursory Googling was unsuccessful.) We're in Michigan, if it matters, and he is eighteen.

Speculation is nice, but I'm really only interested in answers drawing from either direct personal experience or reliable sources. Thanks in advance.

I have suffered from recurrent Major Depressive Disorder since I was twelve (I'm now closing in on twenty-one). I go through periods of genuine stability, even occasional hypomania, which can last anywhere from a few weeks to, once, three years … but the depression always comes back. When I'm doing well, I think back to the depressed phases and see my outlook as clouded by the disorder, but when I'm unwell, I reflect on the good times and see delusion.

Although I've tried to ignore it, I'm realizing that after two good months, I seem to be going down again. Logically, I know it's quite likely I'll eventually go up, but from an emotional standpoint, it doesn't feel worth it.

I'm not actively suicidal (have been in the past and have had about eight hospitalizations because of it in the last year and a half) but the preoccupations are there, and I worry that's where this is headed. It feels like I'm fighting a hopeless war—like how they say you can win battles and still lose the war, because despite the good, the bad always returns. The fact is, I spend more time depressed than not, and even if the good times are good, I don't know that they're enough to outweigh the bad times. How do I cope with this sort of thing? I know the "right" thing to do is wait it out, but it feels like I don't have the strength/energy/motivation/etc. to do that this time.

I very recently started seeing a guy. He just graduated high school (18 years old); I'll be a sophomore in college this fall (20). The relationship began spontaneously when we didn't know each other very well—mentions of mutual intrigue, and then he asked me out—but the more I think about it, the more I doubt it.

We don't have much in common at all. We bonded initially over struggles with mental illness (unipolar and bipolar depression) and being the "too nice" sort prone to getting used, but it's seeming like that's all there is to it. He likes cars and wants to work with computers; I like books and want to be a novelist. He likes mostly metal with a bit of everything else; I like a bit of metal with mostly everything else. He can read fine but doesn't, and he doesn't always know the semi-but-not-totally-obscure words I use (e.g., misogynistic, ramification). He sends me "hey beautiful, how are you?" texts in the morning and little less-than-three hearts, but I'm not much of a romantic.

He's a sweet guy, and he genuinely cares about me, but I don't know that that's enough to base a relationship on. I don't want to end it if this sort of uncertainty is normal, but I also don't want to string him along and let him get more attached if we're just not right for each other. Thoughts would be greatly appreciated.

A friend recommended I read Laurie Halse Anderson's WINTERGIRLS. I read her novel SPEAK when it first came out several years ago, and I remember liking it but not loving it. This friend tells me WINTERGIRLS is much better, so I'm understandably intrigued.

Problem is, I have a huge bias against eating disorders. I have struggled with one in the past, and I have seen other people close to me go through the same issues, and now anything about eating disorders makes me angry. I realize this feeling is largely unjustified and unfair, but that doesn't stop it.

My question, then, is if this book is worth it. I am a notoriously picky reader, always desperate for a really good book, but I'm worried WINTERGIRLS would be wasted on me, given my history with the subject. I'd appreciate your thoughts on this.

I have struggled with Major Depressive Disorder to varying degrees for the past eight years, going through many treatments along the way, all with limited to no success. Lately it feels as though suicide isn't a matter of "if" so much as "when." It's as if there was a board meeting I wasn't invited to where the board members decided on my fate; they voted unanimously in favor of suicide, and I'm too apathetic to appeal the ruling.

If it were just about me, I'd go ahead and do it tonight. But I'm not vain enough to be able to make it just about me, because I know there are people who care about me deeply, and even though I've been kind of bad company lately, I know it'd be exponentially harder on them if I killed myself. But I'm not sure how long that's going to hold up.

Bed, irrevocable decisions feel unavoidable. Imminent. And I don't know what to do about it.

Thoughts? Advice? Help?

I'm writing a (as-of-yet untitled) novel focusing primarily on a young woman (early twenties) who has been suffering from Major Depressive Disorder for nearly half her life. After trying even very aggressive treatments with no success, she decides she is in the small minority of people whose depression truly is untreatable. Having heard of the phenomenon where a person who's made the decision to commit suicide often seems happier in the days before the final act because the decision is liberating, my character decides to test it out for herself and plans to kill herself in a week, curious to see if she'll notice the pre-suicide rush and feel inspired to change her mind. I haven't decided her fate yet, but this is my question: during that week, her father's father dies; do you think it's more likely she'd see this as a reason to put it off, not wanting to cause her father more grief in such a short time frame, or would she view this death as a distraction that would soften the blow of her own? Which do you think is likelier to be the effect in reality (as opposed to from her perspective)? Why?

And, just for kicks, what's your opinion—if you have one—on whether or not she should live in the end?

Thanks for your time and thoughts; this issue has been nagging at me and making it difficult to know how to proceed in my story.

You're in a bookstore, browsing the fiction section, and pick up a book called DARK FOUNTAIN by some writer you've never heard of. You open it to the first chapter and read the opening to decide if you want to buy it:

Someone had been here.

That much Chloe knew. The air smelled rancid; the window was broken, and a scrap of what looked like pinstriped slacks had caught on one of the jagged points of glass. And the man.

It had been unwise to come up alone, to think she could respond to the ALERT message on her own. Something mundane, she had figured; it usually was. But not this. Not the door snapped loose at the entrance to the apartment, not the scattering of destruction that followed a wandering, searching path to the bedroom, and not the bedroom.

The man—without the beard, the gender would've been impossible to judge—was supine on the floor, chest split open like a nutshell, insides scooped out. Chloe thought of oysters, like she had eaten two nights ago, and felt the second wave of nausea.

No, it was not mundane. No, it was not a solo mission. And no, it wasn't someone that had been here.

It was something.

------

SO. Do you buy the book? Are you intrigued but not enough to shell out the $8.99 (+/–) for it? Or does it just not grab you, for one reason or another?

Please be unflinchingly honest; I have been in a slump and am trying to decide whether I should continue to put energy into revising this project in hopes of one day publishing it.

Thanks for your time and input.

I have suffered from Major Depressive Disorder for the past eight years—since age 12—and although I've had better periods, the depression always returns. At best, my depression is a dull malaise; at worst, it's genuinely crippling. I've been on almost all marketed anti-depressants, including Lithium, which is often seen as a "last-resort" medication, and I've taken many antipsychotics to augment those meds. I've also undergone extensive unilateral and bilateral electroconvulsive therapy. I've seen several different therapists with different approaches. Some of these have brought me temporary relief, but nothing lasts more than a few months. I've done a good bit of reading on the subject and spoken with assorted mental health professionals, including a doctor at a center specializing in depression, and the fact is, sometimes a patient's depression just can't be treated. Although I haven't had it confirmed by a doctor, I'm pretty sure I'm in that population.

Given that, how do I go on? How do I build a sustainable lifestyle with this weight dragging at me? How do I convince myself not to just give in to it and make a bad, permanent decision?

Thanks for your time.

From April till November of last year, I went through aggressive bilateral electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) to treat my Major Depressive Disorder. Although it appeared to be working at first, it was ultimately unsuccessful, and the only lasting effect it had was on my memory. I have lost much of my memory, both recent and farther back, and I think my ability to form new memories has been impaired. For example, I run into people who clearly know me, and I have no idea who they are or how we know each other; I look back through old journal entries about major events (e.g., service trip to Nicaragua, high school graduation, going to a bookstore with my favorite author) and know that they happened but don't remember details or have any emotional reaction to thinking about the experience. I feel like an impostor in my own life, like I'm under-qualified to be myself.

I know that memory loss is a normal side effect of ECT, but I've also heard that within six months, the patient's memories will come back. I don't know what that means, exactly—will all memories be back by six months, or will they start coming back at six months, or what? I also don't know if my trouble forming new memories is actually related to the ECT. So I guess my questions would be, how much of my memory can I expect to return, and when will that happen, and what can I do in the meantime to help combat the impostor feelings?

Thanks for your time.

History: I have struggled with mental illness for the past eight years. Depression has been the primary issue, but at varying times, I've been diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder, ED-NOS, Anorexia Nervosa, and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. From '02–'05, I cut myself; from '08–present, I abused alcohol; in January of this year I took up self-injury again. I have been hospitalized eight times, six of which occurred last year. I have been on and off almost all currently marketed anti-depressants, and I underwent several months of (ultimately unsuccessful) electroconvulsive therapy (ECT). Writing novels has been a part of my life since age eleven, and I have noticed a strong correlation between how much I work on writing and how well I am, mentally. Things were going better until very recently, when a traumatic incident shook me. Badly.

Now: I am currently taking Lithium, Celexa, and Remeron for depression and Lamictal for epilepsy. I see a psychiatrist about once a month and a therapist once a week. My therapist is very nice, but for whatever reason, I'm not completely honest with her. I feel disconnected from everything and avoid social interactions because they make me quite uncomfortable. I'm on constant edge, wary of everything. Sometimes at night, when I'm alone, I hear "phantom" music—it's as if someone were playing loud rock at my neighbor's house, although I'm virtually positive that isn't the case. I also see "phantom" objects, or else movement; that is, I have the sense a book I'm reading is wobbling/tilting/sliding, but I can also tell that it isn't, or I'll see an invisible cube twisting in the air. (I realize that "invisible" means exactly that—not able to be seen—but it feels like I'm seeing it anyway.) I have constant dull aches in my head and stomach, sometimes my chest, and am always tired—like I have a slight flu that has lingered at ~30% strength since the incident. My self-respect has dissolved into nothing, as has my self-worth. I was once confident enough in my writing to be seeking in-depth criticism and even publication, but now, I can't stand looking at the things I've written, much less writing new things, without feeling like a fraud, an impostor in the literary world. Because of the ECT, I have lost many memories from the near and far past, which makes me feel in some ways like an impostor in the person who is supposedly me. Given the way I'm withdrawing from the people around me, I'm beginning to consider the idea that it might be better for everyone if I just ended it cleanly here. I've been up and down so many times that it feels like I'm not meant to be really Okay, you know? And what's the point in dragging it out if that's the case? The fact is, some depression just isn't treatable; I'm no longer a remotely productive member of society or a positive force in the lives of the people I theoretically love.

Questions: How much of this is noteworthy/worthy of concern? Do you honestly think recovery is possible in this instance? If so, what would you suggest for someone who has "been there, done that" as far as treatment is concerned? And if not, what should I do from here?

Many, many thanks for your time and energy, and if you need further information, just let me know.

I love reading, but as I've grown up, my taste in books has gotten more and more discerning. I'm unduly judgmental from page one—a weak opening line, or even a typo or misused word, is enough to make me reconsider my decision to read the book, and if it hasn't recovered in the next few pages, I'm unlikely to keep reading. I'm also quite skeptical; I love elements of sci-fi or fantasy but have a great deal of trouble suspending my disbelief, so to speak, and I'll even doubt strictly realistic fiction. The language has to be exquisite: well-crafted sentences, well-broken paragraphs, vivid words that have a cadence, a rhythm. I'm not much of a romantic/sexual person myself, so while I don't mind romance or sex in a book, it needs to be well-handled and believable for me to take it as worthwhile.

I really like dark urban fantasy and psychological horror—things that get at the darker side of human (or non-human) nature in general. I'm not big on high fantasy, historical fiction, or "big" sci-fi (I can't think of a better term … like, space opera sort of stuff, I guess) but an outstanding book is an outstanding book, and if the language wins me over, I'll read almost anything.

Some of my favorite well-known writers are Neil Gaiman, Kurt Vonnegut, Joe Hill, Chuck Palahniuk and Thomas Harris. My favorite contemporary novel is BLOODANGEL, by Justine Musk, although you may not have heard of it, so I don't know how much help that is.

If you have any suggestions, I'd greatly appreciate it. Extra gold star if you "pitch" the book(s) to me—i.e., give me a brief explanation of why I should read it.

Thanks!

About eight years ago, I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa, which had a devastating power over my life for four years. Luckily, I got myself back on track, and I've been mentally stable, considering myself fully recovered ever since. Over the past year, though, I've gained weight on top of the healthy weight I was at post-recovery, and I'd like to lose that. It's nothing major—I'm still within the normal range and everything, and I'm only looking to lose ten, maybe fifteen pounds—so I don't doubt that I'd be able to lose the weight; I just wonder if I'd be able to stop, or if the thing in me that was disordered will flare up and take over control again.

Reasons I think it wouldn't:

-Eight years ago, I was also struggling with depression and anxiety.

-I don't hate my body or myself; I'm just dissatisfied with a few easily-fixable parts.

-I'm older now, and more mature.

-Eight years ago, I was twelve. I was going through puberty.

Reasons I think it would:

-I've recently been through another bout of depression, which is now controlled but not gone.

-I have more freedom; it would be a LOT easier now to keep up an eating disordered lifestyle compared to when I was younger.

-I've heard eating disorders compared to alcoholism, and I know that once an alcoholic is recovered, he or she isn't supposed to touch alcohol, because although "just one drink" sounds easy, it is actually highly difficult.

I would really like to lose these few extra pounds, but I don't know if that's something I can reasonably expect from myself if I also want to not relapse. Does anybody have experience with this? Can you offer me some insight? Advice?

Thanks for reading; I know it was a little long-winded. Greatly appreciated.

Basically, I have written a novel and revised it several times and am now looking for someone to give it a read—someone who doesn't like me and isn't afraid of hurting my feelings with a brutally honest critique. In exchange, I would provide the same for your novel draft.

My piece is tentatively titled DARK FOUNTAIN. It is a ~57,000-word work of urban fantasy/horror with crossover appeal to both young adult and adult readers. The core concept is this: a six-year-old girl has the ability to leech the humanity out of a person and, in doing so, keep her blood relatives suspended in time, unaging. This process, however, leaves her victims as violent, animalistic predators that crave human flesh. When her older brother gets a crush on his classmate, he decides he wants out—wants to grow and age like a normal sixteen-year-old. He turns to the people charged with guarding his family, and their secret, for help, and assorted dramas ensue.

If this is something you'd be interested in, let me know; if not, no worries. I realize I'm asking a lot. Either way, I appreciate your reading this far.