Deville Apartments & Builders Rental Application: Fill & Download for Free

Right now, I live in the world’s most powerful country, have access to electricity, gas, and clean water, and don’t ever worry about when my next meal is going to be. If you took my current location and reversed the dial back 600 years, however, my life would look entirely different.Let’s say I wake up one morning, expecting to view my familiar, Charlotte NC surroundings, only to find that all around me is miles and miles (and miles) of deciduous forest. No buildings, no people, just straight land.SHIT.The year is 1418, and I’m wearing the exact same thing I went to bed with: a charcoal-grey Carolina Panthers sweatshirt and a vibrant blue pair of Fruit of the Loom boxer briefs. There’s no ‘Charlotte’, there’s no ‘North Carolina’, hell, there isn’t even a ‘United States’, and in fact the continent of North America wouldn’t be stepped on by Europeans for another 74 years.What can I expect to experience? Well, I damn better get used to seeing this (minus the leaves since it’s winter):Additionally, since it’s wintertime and nothing is covering my lower extremities except for that flattering underwear I mentioned earlier, I am already not off to such a great start. Temperatures can drop well below 20°F (-6°C) during this time of year, so I have to find some shelter before nightfall . And yeah, I have already I have ruled out the possibility of building one myself since I can’t even manage to erect something as simple as a halfway decent sandcastle without silently crying in shame.So instead of sluggishly slinking down the stairs for my nice, warm, morning coffee like I usually do, I have to traverse the North Carolinian woodlands barefoot. Oh yeah, I’m barefoot. But cut me some slack, who goes to bed with their shoes on?It’s now 9:30 AM, and I’m on the march.And only around five minutes into my arbitrary journey, I’ve already decided, seemingly irrevocably, that I’m going to give up; look, it was fun while it lasted and all, but obviously, all survival instincts biologically ingrained in me have long since vanished, likely diminished by many hours of pointless internet surfing and an over-access to Pop-tarts.But right before I’m about to throw in the towel, or more appropriately, ‘throw’ myself into the jaws of any menacing bear that might pass by, I see something. I see .. wait.. are those — Native Americans?Although the Cherokee didn’t have horses back then, this painting is still pretty coolYes! They are Native Americans; members of the Cherokee tribe, to be exact, likely out on a hunt. Indeed, before the genocide and forced relocation of their people not too long into the future, they were just a simple civilization of hunters, cultivators, and builders.You see, 600 years ago, there existed massive numbers of these Native’s primarily in southwestern North Carolina (where, as you know, I currently live) and southeastern Tennessee (which is right next to NC) [1]. That then now explains our meeting in the woods.Anyway, upon spotting the Cherokees, I am unsure how to proceed. They haven’t ever seen a white man in their life, and especially not one wearing such bright underwear, so I am skeptical over whether or not it would be dangerous to introduce myself. They look tough.In addition to their front-seamed moccasins, they have on either woven cloth or deerskin; some have shirts on, other’s don’t; some have beards, some are clean-shaven; some have pony-tails, others are bald. [2] Most individuals have tattoos, wear face-paint, and have piercings on their face and ears. Yep, these are guys you definitely don’t wanna fuck with unless you have a death wish.But I advance towards them nonetheless because I’ll die if I don’t get some sort of help. As I approach, one of them spots me and gets the attention of his fellow hunters by sounding a loud holler. Before you know it, I find myself at the wrong end of bow-and-arrows, axes, and even blowguns (which ranged three to six feet in length, or 1–2 meters) [3]. I really can’t blame them either for their swift reaction, but I’m still super on edge because those blowguns are really fuckin’ scary.I quickly indicate that I have no intention of harming them by putting my arms in the air and kneeling on the grimy forest floor. They steadily come forward, exchanging glances and whispering to one another in the process. I’m starting to think they’re just as freaked out as I am.In no time they’re standing right before me, weapons still raised, observing me and without a doubt finding my manner of dress perfectly absurd. A particularly brave fellow comes over, just inches from my face, and stares at me; he has a geometric pattern of tattoos across his chest, a beaded-belt, and hair reaching all the way down to his lower back. We stare at each other for some time before I do the unthinkable: I offer my hand.As I do this, he recoils, but gradually returning, observes my extended hand with skepticism, before meeting it with one of his own, and before you know it, the entire group is eagerly touching me all over with limitless curiosity.I stand up. Across from me is the same chest-tattoo guy that originally shook my hand. It’s dead quiet. He points down at my underwear and begins to chuckle, and soon enough, the entire hunting-group erupts in deafening laughter. Whatever, I’ll own up to it now only because of those scary-ass blowguns.Anyway, luckily for me, I get to tag along during one of their hunting expeditions. Becoming a hunter in Cherokee society was a strenuous process; young men who wished to become hunters had to first consult with the person in charge of training them — the hunting priest [4]. Thomas E. Mails, in his book The Cherokee People, details the first step of the process.On the appearance of the first new Moon in March, the priest gave the pupils a purifying drink and had them wash their bodies with it. The drink was a tea made of cedar boughs, horse-mint, cane and old tobacco. Once purged, they were going to the river where they immersed seven times, then put on clean clothing.The same ritual was repeated in September at the appearance of the first New Moon. Aspiring hunters then were expected to study under the hunting priest for four years; during this time he taught them how to imitate calls in nature to help lure prey, the sacred prayers, and how to properly give thanks for a successful kill.At the end of the four years, the priest set up a tent by the river bank for pupils to enter in and ‘profusely sweat’, that is, after they had been in the tent long enough to work an intense sweat, they were then supposed to dip in the river and wash themselves seven times*. Only then were then a considered a hunter.So in short, these guys knew what they were doing, and before you know it, the ensemble of hunters had procured themselves a deer with my help (not really) and it was back to the village.Similar to other Cherokee villages, the hunters lived in ‘stockades’ with overlapping fences as a mean of exit/entry, rather than using a gate [5]. In terms of how it functions socially, Cherokees are a matrilineal society, meaning the home, family, children, inheritance, family ties, and clan membership are under the absolute control of the women. The man has no real authority in Cherokee society. [6]Anyhow, when we all arrived, the deer-bearers called on their neighbors to come join in on the feast, as is Cherokee custom, and so began a mirthful evening complete with plenty of cooking, dances, and games.I drew in a considerable amount of stares as I walked through the town and indeed stirred up a fair amount of controversy just by being there. Some, I could tell, staunchly objected to my presence; but most were intensely fascinated by it. I was an alien. But I nevertheless came to be accepted by the general population.After I was finished with my meal, I joined in on a game of Stickball, or A ne jo di in Cherokee, a sport resembling the European lacrosse.Stickball is CRAZY. Games could sometimes last up to several days and participants ranged from as many as 100 to 1,000 men from opposing tribes or villages. According to Wikipedia,The games were played in open plains located between the two villages, and the goals could range from 500 yards (460 m) to several miles apart.The thing is: Stickball wasn’t just played for fun. It was sometimes actually used as a means of settling disputes or redressing grievances. It was therefore a very efficient method of keeping the peace, as it were, except when rival tribes would refuse the outcome of the game. Then there would be actual war.I got to try my hand at a smaller game of Stickball. Essentially, each person is equipped with a piece of stick-shaped hickory with a pouch at the end of it; then, a ball made of deer-hair would be tossed up and teams would go at it trying to hit the opposing sides’ goal, which is normally a very long pole with a fish at the top of it. Hit the pole with the ball: that’s two points. Hit the fish? You just scored your team seven points.But after I was done embarrassing myself trying to play Stickball, it was time for an important Cherokee ritual: dance.In the late hours of evening, all the villagers came together in the ‘Town Hall’ to see a religious ceremony known as a Stomp Dance. Only a select few individuals can actually participate in the dance — a leader, their assistants, and one or more “shell shakers” wearing pebble-filled leg rattles made out of turtle shells. The dance is considered to be a holy event for worshiping Unetlanv (God, The Creator) [7].I along with other observers visited, feasted and danced far into the night. It was truly a extraordinary end to a extraordinary day.Eventually, I fell into a deep sleep next to a crackling fire when it was all over, and when I woke up, I was back in my bed, as changed as a man as ever.But yeah, that’s what the world was like 600 years ago, at least for me.It’s really upsetting that before long, the Cherokees’ peaceful, thousands of years old civilization was eventually disturbed beyond repair by European colonists. I strongly recommend reading up on the atrocities committed against the Cherokee people, not to mention literally the hundreds and hundreds of other tribes subject to the same fate.However, despite how poorly they were treated and how disrespectfully and violently their ancestors were treated, the Cherokees and their traditions still live on today.Sure, they’re not as strong as they once were, but they’re a damn resilient people, I must say.Thanks for reading.*”The number seven in Cherokee culture represents the height of purity and sacredness, a difficult level to attain.” [8]Cherokee Geographic Location [1]Cherokee Clothing [2]Cherokee Weapons [3]Hunting and fishing [4]Housing [5]Society [6]Cherokee Stomp Dance [7]The Traditional Belief System [8]

Yeah yeah let it go, be a better person, show them what they’re missing. These answers are of course all mature and correct but when you have a sense of injustice it’s really hard to do that. All you want is to get back some control. Here are the two rules of revenge.Rule 1-PatienceMy advice is be patient. Yes don’t let it consume you. Don’t go crazy stalking them. Don’t waste energy on them. But be patient and know that one day the opportunity will come.Rule 2-Load the gun, don’t pull the triggerI have taken revenge 3 times in my life. I’m pretty easygoing, focus on the bigger picture etc but sometimes you need to take revenge. VERY IMPORTANT-the best revenge is when it absolutely can not be traced back to you. The other person has to believe that they’re just having a shit day/week/month. This means no keying their car, calling their work or all the other impassioned things you want to do. Create a situation and let them pull the trigger.Do I sound like a psycho yet?My ex husband got deported for not having the correct visa in Canada. Relationship broke down, he cost me a lot of money, lied to me, didn’t work etc etc Anyway divorce happened and he continued with the same old pathological lies that he was a changed man, he would send money for the divorce just let him know etc. 3 weeks after I asked for a divorce, he was in a Facebook relationship with another woman. Strike 1.I have him months to get together £300. I was going to fill out all 11 forms necessary for the divorce. I had done my research to save us both money so we didn’t have to use a lawyer. All he had to do was send money and accept the papers being served on him.He blocked me. Didn’t send money. I had to beg and plead with him through his mum to just let someone give him some papers and that was it. It took a lot of tenacity and anxiety. Strike 2.I had enough. Couldn’t waste anymore time on him and paid for it all myself and got the divorce but didn’t tell him. Now I just waited.I kept an eye on his girlfriend’s Instagram. Nothing much happening apart from a few jewellery gifts from him here and there. I knew it wouldn’t be long. Then bingo. I found out they were engaged. I should be happy for him but wait, as far as he knew, we were still married…And his Facebook status was public…And he thought he had blocked me…Oh sorry? You didn’t know he was still married? New fiancée and friends.I understand this goes against rule #2 and I sound more psycho than I actually am but it worked!! 5 days later I received the money for the whole divorce.3 days after that I sent the divorce order and told him we’d been divorced for over a month.Revenge was served. It probably didn’t affect him too much but I got the control back and that’s what revenge is about.

If you need clean sound, than it is OK for home use. I've even used Bassman Silverface 100W with 2x12 box and Blues Deville 4x10 at my apartment.At same time I had Fender Blues Jr. and Laney Cub 10 and in compare with Bassman and Deville, their clean sound was inferior. But, crunch and drive sounds at room volume were better through Jr. and Cub.