When Will The Sxx Value 2022 Be Updated For Streaming?

Honestly, when I eyeball used listings and lurk in guitar groups, the S2 Mira tends to sit in a slightly higher resale tier than most PRS SE models. The main reason is perception and provenance: S2s are marketed and built to bridge the gap between American-made Core instruments and the more affordable SE line, so people expect better hardware, different woods/finishes, and a quality-control story that justifies paying more secondhand. In practical terms that means an S2 Mira often commands noticeably more money than an SE Mira or comparable SE model, especially if it’s a desirable finish or a limited run. That said, resale isn’t just a sticker—condition, rarity, and timing matter way more than the model badge alone. A perfectly kept SE with original case, recent setup, and sought-after color can beat a beat-up S2 in final sale price. Conversely, a well-cared-for S2 with original case and low fret wear often holds its value better because buyers see it as closer to the Core lineage; I've seen folks pay a premium for a US-made serial and the 'feel' of higher-end fretwork. Mods are a big caveat: aftermarket pickups, non-original tuners, or routed cavities will usually tank resale for collectors, though players looking for tone might not care. If you’re buying to flip or wanting the best resale protection, my practical checklist is useful: keep the case and paperwork, take detailed photos, get a receipt for any recent setup, and be transparent about mods. List on multiple platforms (local marketplace, Reverb, eBay) and price it with a small room for negotiation. For buyers, remember that SEs are fantastic value for playing and modding — you can often get the same sonic goals for less money and still keep resale decent. Personally, I tend to favor S2 when I want resale security and a closer-to-Core feel, but for everyday playing and experimentation I’ll happily pick up an SE and make it my project guitar.

It depends a lot on what you mean by ‘resale value,’ and honestly I love that complexity — it’s what makes jewelry hunting fun. Onyx itself (especially the common smooth black variety) isn’t a high-value gemstone the way sapphires or emeralds are, so if you buy a plain black onyx men’s ring at a mid-range price, don’t expect dramatic appreciation. What preserves or improves value is the combination: a striking or rare piece of onyx (banded or with unusual translucence), set in quality metal, made by a respected maker, or with historical provenance. Treatments and imitations muddy the waters too — glass, dyed agate, or mass-produced composites are plentiful and cheap, which pulls down general perception unless your piece is clearly high-end. Practical factors matter more than you’d guess. The metal setting (solid gold vs gold-plated), hallmarks, and any accompanying paperwork or original box hugely influence resale. Vintage or designer pieces often outperform generic mass-market items because collectors chase brand and story. Regional taste matters as well: black onyx can be trendy in certain subcultures or geographic markets, while plain black stones might be out of fashion elsewhere. Maintenance affects resale too — scratches, chips, or a re-polished look can lower desirability. If you want to maximize what you can get later, keep receipts, get an appraisal or certificate if it’s a pricier piece, photograph it carefully, and avoid harsh cleaning that removes patina or original finishes. I’ve bought, polished, and sold a few onyx pieces over the years, and the ones that held value were never just the stone — they were the full package. A mid-century signet with a carved banded onyx and intact maker’s mark attracted more interest than a brand-new, generic black onyx fashion ring. When selling, I’ve had better luck with specialized vintage shops and auction listings that tell the story, rather than generic buyback counters. Online marketplaces are great for reach but expect fees and haggling. So, if you’re treating men’s onyx jewelry as an investment: be picky, document everything, favor unique or well-made pieces, and remember that liquidity is lower than for diamonds. If you enjoy the style, buy for love first and potential resale second — it keeps the pressure off and usually leads to smarter choices.

Folding pages in a book can definitely decrease its value, especially for collectors. You see, books that are considered rare or first editions have this aura around them, and any marks or folds can ruin that pristine image. For someone like me, who treasures collecting special editions of my favorite stories, the condition of the book really matters. If I came across a 'Harry Potter' first edition with dog-eared pages, I might still want it for my collection, but I wouldn't pay top dollar. Moreover, folding over pages often suggests a level of carelessness that really doesn’t sit well with collectors. I mean, think about it—having that pristine spine and the unblemished pages makes the book feel almost sacred! It’s the difference between enjoying it as a reader and preserving it as a piece of literary history. If you’re reading a book you love, maybe the aesthetic of dog-eared pages has its own charm, but if you’re thinking about its potential worth, hands off those pages!

I’ve used a few book reselling apps, and from my experience, the value of used novels is usually determined by a mix of factors. The most obvious one is the book’s condition—whether it’s like new, has minor wear, or is heavily damaged. Apps often scan the ISBN to check the current market demand and compare prices from other sellers. Popular titles or rare editions fetch higher prices, while mass-market paperbacks might not get much. Shipping costs also play a role since some apps deduct them from your payout. Timing matters too; a book trending due to a movie adaptation might spike in value temporarily. It’s a bit like selling vintage clothes—rarity and condition dictate the price.

I get chills thinking about how silence is used like a weapon in some shows — it’s not just an absence of sound, it’s a moment that punches you in the chest. For me, the best examples are those that let everything go quiet right after a big reveal so you have time to register the horror. For instance, 'Puella Magi Madoka Magica' Episode 3: when Mami falls, the soundtrack drops in a way that leaves this stunned hush; the silence stretches so long you can almost hear your own heartbeat. 'Neon Genesis Evangelion' (especially the TV ending and the film 'The End of Evangelion') uses absolute quiet to drive home existential dread — those long, empty interludes make the imagery land harder. 'Mushishi' Episode 1 celebrates stillness as atmosphere; it isn’t shock for cheap thrills but quiet that makes the supernatural sting. And 'Higurashi: When They Cry' (the opening arc) weaponizes sudden silence right after sudden violence, which is somehow worse than screams. I usually rewind those scenes because the silence reveals more than any scream — it forces me to look at faces and tiny details I’d otherwise miss, and I love that about these shows.

Spending a lazy Saturday poking through a charity shop once led me to a gorgeous clothbound copy of 'Pride and Prejudice' for less than twenty bucks, and that thrill is exactly why I love hunting for hardcover bargains. If you want the best value hardcovers under $20, start with clothbound classics and children's picture books — they tend to be built to last and are reprinted in attractive editions that retailers price gently. Look for the Penguin Clothbound series (think 'Pride and Prejudice', 'Dracula', 'Emma') and Barnes & Noble’s cloth- or hardcover collector editions; these often show up around or below the $20 line, especially during sales. I also keep an eye on modern paper-over-board hardcovers that publishers quietly price low: 'The Little Prince' and certain editions of 'The Catcher in the Rye' or 'The Hobbit' can be real steals if you shop sale racks or secondhand sites. Children’s staples like 'Where the Wild Things Are', 'Goodnight Moon', and 'The Very Hungry Caterpillar' usually have sturdy hardcovers at great prices and make lovely gifts that feel premium without hurting your wallet. Beyond titles, value comes from construction and provenance. A sewn binding, cloth cover, and acid-free paper are things I look for if I want a book to survive being read and re-read. For finding them, I stalk Book Outlet, sign up for bookstore sale emails, raid library sales, and use AbeBooks/eBay alerts. Little patience + smart hunting = lots of satisfying hardcovers under $20.

I've always loved digging through dusty auction listings and basement collections for stuff connected to 'Escape from New York'. The big-ticket items that collectors salivate over are screen-used props and costumes — think Snake Plissken's jacket, boots, and especially the eyepatch if it can be verified as on-camera. Those items, when genuinely production-used and with solid provenance, often climb into five-figure territory depending on condition and documentation. Beyond costumes, original theatrical one-sheets and lobby card sets from 1981 are surprisingly valuable if they're in near-mint condition. A U.S. one-sheet in very good to mint condition can fetch thousands. Japanese posters and variant foreign one-sheets can be even pricier because of their scarcity and graphic differences. Original press kits, signed production scripts, and camera-master publicity stills also command strong money, particularly when signed by John Carpenter or Kurt Russell and supported by a certificate of authenticity. If you're hunting, prioritize provenance and condition. A photo of the prop on set, a chain of ownership, or a reputable auction listing makes a huge difference. Reproductions and modern reprints (Mondo-style art, new Blu-ray collectibles) are cool for display but they don’t carry the same value. I usually watch auctions for a while to gauge pricing trends before committing — it’s part anthropology, part treasure hunt, and I love that about collecting.

Reading coming-of-age novels feels like eavesdropping on a brain that’s just learning how to be itself. I get hooked when a protagonist thinks differently, because those odd thought patterns are a map for growth — not a roadmap that tells you where to go, but a hand-drawn sketch that says, 'You could go this way.' When I read someone making strange connections, keeping secret rituals, or inventing metaphors to cope, it pulls me in. It’s like watching a rehearsal for real life: you see trial-and-error thinking, moral fumbling, and those tiny epiphanies that don’t explode into tidy solutions. I once read 'The Catcher in the Rye' sprawled across a late-night bus ride, scribbling lines into a cheap notebook; Holden’s tangents felt messy and real, and they taught me how messy thinking can still be honest. Beyond that, thinking-different opens empathy. A reader who’s curious about thoughts that deviate from the norm starts to tolerate ambiguity in people — in friends, siblings, partners. It’s why novels like 'Persepolis' or 'The Perks of Being a Wallflower' stick with me: the perspective itself is the lesson. Those books don’t hand you morals; they hand you a way of seeing, and you practice seeing along with the narrator. That practice is underrated — it’s how fiction becomes rehearsal for kindness and risk-taking, and why we keep returning to coming-of-age stories in different stages of our lives with new things to learn.