sigh.

I have this thing, this feeling, like I fit in.

I have never felt it, as a whole, before.

As a child, I was sweet and compliant, as my dad would say. I wanted to be the helper rather than play competitive scary games with other children.

As an adolescent, I was 13 going on thirty, if you will. I was the babysitter that cleaned up the house and did the dishes for the parents whose children I was watching. I was grocery shopping and hanging out with adults, in utter contentment.

As a high schooler, I was ready to be out around the time I started. I was in the kitchen with the adults at gatherings. I was never in to the same things high schoolers were in to. I cooked dinner on Saturday nights. I didn’t even know where the parties were. On Mondays, I was at FAITH Evangelism outreach, bringing people to Jesus. I was the High School yearbook editor, not by choice, but by vote, by my high school-like peers that had no interest in taking on the responsibility, and knew I wouldn’t be able to help but take on more responsibility.

I was from a small town, born with a city girl mindset. I was always seeking and thinking about things that made the typical life-long Inolan go cross-eyed.

When I went to the Christian college I had coveted, in hopes of finding like minded people, I realized no one had to like me, and much of them weren’t like me at all. I was scary to some, perceived as confident, broken up and insecure and wavering on the inside. I was not the camp counselor type, nor was I granola, or into splunking. I don’t even know how to spell that if it tells you anything. And so I spent four years as an outsider, as a whole, because I didn’t always have a smile on my face, because my parents were not alumni, and had never taken me to Sunday School or had family meetings or kept me from watching the Smurfs or sheltered me from Saved by the Bell or R rated movies. I found true friends along the way, that I an ever thankful for. I am reminded of why I pay a student loan payment every month each time I think of them. And though I felt safe in their presence, even they did not make me feel like I belonged in that particular place.

I chose a major I was not passionate about in the midst of people that were passionate about it. Talk about outsider.

So what do I do? I move to the state of Florida, a place I had never desired to inhabit, to live with a person I love, but am nothing like, if you don’t count our last names. I worked in an office full of people that were either married or had children or some kind of mental disorder. Shut up. I have no mental disorder. I promise.

And then I moved home, to live with my parents. I do not know if there will ever be a phase of my life that I feel like I fit in with my parents. I have friends that do. I admire them. But my mom is usually telling me that I am weird. I love my parents. I often enjoy them. But I don’t fit in with them.

And so here I sit, on my cozy twin bed, fitting in. I feel at ease with the group of people I have chosen to spend my life around. We are not all the same. We do not always agree. But I am accepted, and mostly, understood.

There is a question that arises in my head, however. Does my feeling of fitting in exist because of the acceptance that has been directed towards me from other people? Or am I able to perceive acceptance from others because of the acceptance I have found a way to give myself, that was always so allusive in the past?

Either way, I will take it.

the opener

I am tired. Visual picture for you: I just finished an eight hour shift at Starbucks, that began at five this morning, on the day of the week that most everyone gets paid, and also happens to be the last work day of the week for the majority of those said people, which means there are adequate funds to be spent on a mini celebration. How? By stopping at Starbucks on their way to work and ordering something really sugary and complicated. Enter Meredith. I openend yesterday as well. The bad news is that my body has gotten unused to working opening shifts two days in a row. So basically, I sit here, in this tan chair in my living room, with an aching back, sore feet, an overwhelming sense of tiredness, sipping on a Shiner Bock, with absolutely nowhere to be. And post Starbucks madness, it feels...how do I say it? Really good.

Post beer? Burp...naptime...bliss. Post-post beer-burp-naptime-bliss? New job.

ehh. ahhh. hahaha.

Wine has the ability to induce weeping.
Desire is dangerous, and I don't like some of the side effects.
Hugs are fantastic, especially when I am feeling like I really need one, and there is something there to oblige.
I really adore my roommates, and I don't think either of them read this, so I didn't type it to score any brownie points.
Speaking of brownies, well, I like baking them, preferably while consuming wine and listening to lovely music, in my kitchen, with my apple apron on (the fruit, not the company...they don't make aprons).
My nephew is really a pretty amazing kid, wise beyond his years, fun to hang out with, gifted in social studies.
I sleep with a fan on, which helps me not hear the murderous cats outside that my previously mentioned roommates complain about most mornings.
Speaking of roommates and mornings, we made breakfast together on this one, which is such a wonderful way to begin what is and was (a) Good Friday.
I love breaking bread with the people I love, even if it is an Arby's melt and a Jamocha shake.
Rain gives life more depth.

And after a hoarding of not very related or necessary sentences strung together, some photos for your viewing pleasure. As one of my summer goals is to create my website, someday the text and the photos will be separate. Until then:




the nephew and I, having fun with photo booth.



My dear friend Chirs and I, at work...Starbucks work.



a delicious latte I consumed on a really wonderful gray day.



Izze sodas. All natural and unrefined. All yummy and beautiful.



Birthday celebration, celebrating the birth of Meredith...the ninth of February. Tonia, Ken, Renee, and George.



same celebration. different photo. Nick, Heather, and John.



Renee, cutting up a frittata that she baked in her toaster oven that, as Tonia says, "almost made me cry." So good.



Haydyn and I...my cousins daughter. I am smiling, she is distracted.



The makings of what will be a delicious pan of brownies. Much goodness in my heart when I look at that picture.



A windy Texas day with my priceless friend Houston.



The lines on the road the priceless friend stopped to let me photo.



Prior to departure, happiness and sadness existing simultaneously in my smile.



a really really tasty lunch I prepared for myself, and then had to photo. Yes, that's right. I take pictures of my food.

staying for the summer

The general consensus is that I will live in Tulsa this summer. It was a difficult decision for me to make, many things to wrestle with, let go of...hold on to. But, as someone wise has said, I will know when it is time to leave this place...not just Tulsa, but this place I am at in my life, and I just don't know that yet. When I lived in Florida, in most aspects of the phrase, I lived alone. My brother was my roommate, so not COMPLETELY alone, but I struggled struggled struggled to find friendship. I questioned myself, the appeal of being my friend, and all of the whys as to why it was so difficult. In the midst of that, I hoped for season in life akin to exactly where I find myself today. I have a plethora of people in my life that are beginning to embody the essence of community. I am not ready to walk away from this, the potential of what it could be...they deserve more of my time, and I theirs.

And so, living in the midst of a shifting frame of mind is where I have found myself lately. I have had to let go of little hopes and excitements that would have followed the change I had thought was coming so soon, and take hold of, again, what being here for a little more time looks like. It's easy for me to section my life in relation to the natural, earthly seasons, as I am sure it is for most. Spring is here in form, if not yet by calendar days, and that change brings me joy, and brings to mind what will follow. What will follow is more in character like spring than winter, and therefor easier to remember when spring is upon me than when I am in the midst of the dreary bleakness of winter; summer.

Summer is the least of my favored seasons. I love fall with a deep love. I admire winter, and its ability to remind us all what we are able to endure. I heart springs ability to bring us out of that sense of endurance and back into the bliss that is recognized in the bright fuschia flowers that are draping the privacy fence along the alley behind my house. Summer is hot, and sticky, and humid, and forces me find ways to be more comfortable with my body, as it is unnatural and unhealthy to drape myself in thick, covering winter-like clothing in the midst of that hot, sticky heat. Alas, I am at a *season* in life where I am more comfortable with my body. I have lovely people in my life to enjoy the summer with. And so, there is an excitement in me, in regards to summer, that I can't remember ever feeling...My usual dread has been replaced with a child-like hope, and being in the center of a foreign frame of mind, I have the desire to find ways to cultivate these feelings, probably because I fear they will leave unexpectedly. So, with that, for my benefit and your reading pleasure, some of my summer-time goals:

1. To wear more summer dresses. This one is linked directly to the body thing, and the mentality that I can't wear them, even though I love them...their femininity, gracefulness, the sense of peace and confidence that flows from them.

2. To make my own website, with my own name, as I do have a .mac account to aid me in that endeavor.

3. And with that, to write more, and cultivate some kind of confidence in something that brings me so much joy.

4. To elevate my musical knowledge. I am lazy when it comes to this, even though music brings me an incredible amount of joy. I usually depend on others to open my eyes to what is out there, and though that is helpful, it's selfish, and I am selling myself short.

5. To continue to run, and to not forget all of the ways that I am benefited by following through with something difficult that I love.

6. To be in a new job, and not just a job, but a job that I enjoy.

7. To make time to read, and actually finish my winter read before summer begins!

8. To cook more, for the people in my life.

9. To give more, and find ways to be reminded that the world does not revolve around me, and that there are people out there that struggle so just to get out of bed, to eat, to care for their children, to be hopeful...and that there are things I can do to make, as cliche as this sounds, the world a better place.

10. Remember that adventure can be found wherever I am, and with that memory, create those little adventures...like the slice of impromptu basil and tomato and feta pizza I consumed last week, at a table outside with a blackberry izze soda and the bright inescapable sunshine warming my round cheeks.

Summer, you are welcome, at anytime, to begin. I am ready.

pitter patter and green

It's funny to me when people complain about one day of rain. It's as if it isn't sunny and seventy with no humidity, the weather is bad. I just don't get it. I love cool rainy days, especially sandwiched in between a few filled with sun and warmth. I like the variety, the reminder that things change, and the feel of cool water falling on my skin from the freaking sky...one of those things that reminds me I am alive.

Yesterday was St. Patrick's Day. That's the day people wear green, because everyone else does, and it's some kind of social expectation and rule, based on the desire to not get pinched. I don't particularly like getting pinched, but I find a sinister kind of pleasure in intentionally not wearing green on St. Patrick's Day. Yesterday, I wore a pink skirt and a black shirt, and I lived to tell about it.

And now, it is time for my customary post opening nap. I shall turn off my itunes, set my computer aside, leave the fan off, and fall asleep to the sound of the rain trickling down intently outside.

la-dee-da

As I typing this, I am in pain, based on which letter of the alphabet I choose to use. As I was closing at work the other night, somewhere between the water gushing profusely from the espresso machine and the making of two quad venti black and white mochas ten minutes prior to the close of the store with the use of only one machine in the midst of the gushing water, I gashed my index finger open on the hand to the right of my body. This means that each time I type a letter with the gashed finger, it hurts. Among those letters are "H" and "Y" and "N", though "N" is not as painful as the latter two because I hit it at a healthier angle.

My friend Esther had a mishap with one of the thick faded black circular objects that keep cars moving, meaning, one of her tires blew out (it was one of the important ones) on her way to the great state of Missouri, which meant instead of a five minute hello as she passed through, we had actual hours. She is a beautiful testament of change and growth, and a reminder of the goodness in life, the value in an open mind, and what it means to the people you come in to contact with. She also took many photos, which is her way...so don't be surprised if you happen to have the thrill of seeing me in my green apron. Prepare yourselves.

I was attempting to create a strawberry brownie masterpiece on the evening that preceded this one, and as I was doing many things at once and not giving the baking my full attention, I omitted the flour. It was gooey and gummy, but set surprisingly well, and turned out to be a wonderfully yummy mistake...I think that flourless brownies may become a regular happening in our house.

And as this has been therapeutic for me, and altogether somewhat vaguely and specifically pointless, it's an appropriate time to end it.

a game

I have been tagged, by amy, who has risen from the blogger underworld to entertain us with her words, and bless us with her presence. The rules of this game are as follows: I have been tagged, so I do the same thing as the person that tagged me...write eight facts/habits pertaining to me...then I tag six to eight more people, and they do the same thing that I did and so on and so on...here goes...

1. The year of 2008 has been the first year of my life that I have effectively kept and used and not lost a planner. I am not a planner by nature, therefore, they usually end up in the floorboard of my car, or under the seat, or in the bottom of my second droor. But alas, I have changed! And found the right planner fit for me. Key: it must fit in my purse.

2. I do not like carrying purses. I carry them out of necessity, which is why mine is relatively small compared to other women of the world. The necessity comes in to play because of my tendency to lose things, including purses, which is why it's not a fool proof plan.

3. I go to sleep at night with a quilt from pottery barn that was purchased for me by my uncle. He remembered me commenting on how much I liked it, saved the catalogue it was in, ordered it for me, and surprised me at Christmas. My life is littered with these stories of unmerited goodness, which I will never fully understand. It's also one of the most beautiful and eclectic quilts you will ever see, and so, because of the gesture and the quilts inescapable aesthetic appeal, I feel very blessed each night when I curl up in the fetal position and slumber.

4. I am very picky when it comes to scents that I put on my body. I do not frequent bath and body works, and I don't like anything too contrived. It took me nearly four years to go through a tiny bottle of the scent pink pepper from the body shop (they have since discontinued it)...And if I ever think I have found something good, I usually tire of it quickly. My current favorite, Flower Bomb, has yet to lose its appeal, however.

5. My favorite wine is Sauvignon Blanc, often described as "crisp, elegant, and fresh" (according to Wikepedia). I recently saved a bottle for many days to be consumed with a friend prior to a lengthy departure, and the afternoon and setting of its consumption was fittingly crisp, elegant, and fresh. It was a Kim Crawford, if you are wanting to go out and get it, and it had notes of grapefruit. Yum.

6. My cell phone battery is on the fritz, and has been since December, but I am cheap and so I just leave it on the charger a lot and deal with the fact that it shuts off, often, without warning.

7. I used to wear black all of the time. It drove my mom crazy. Seriously. Working at Starbucks has helped me outlive this habit, as I wear black (nearly) every day to work. When I don't have to I don't usually want to. I have also grown more comfortable with myself over the years, and am more confident in colors than I used to be...no longer needing to blend in in black.

8. I lived most of my adolescent and adult life on some kind of a diet, to fit some kind of a mold, imposed upon me by myself, based on what people that don't exist expect(ed) from me. I no longer diet, and in an ironic twist, I have found the balance I always striving for via the non-diet.

I tag Molly, Dylan, Renee, Erin, Houston, and Lindsay...the only people that Amy did not tag that I am aware might possibly read my blog and get this notice. Amy only tagged six, so I decided I am playing by her rules. I am not sure if all of these people have blogs. I didn't do the cool links thing for everyone's name, because I am tired and want to go to bed. If you were tagged and don't want to do it, no pressure. But if you do it would be fun!

Have you seen June Bug? If you haven't, then you should.

This is one of those amazingly lovely amazingly unexpected afternoons. I am supposed to me making coffee right now, until five-thirty, actually. Multiple times during my shift did the words "I really don't want to be here," come out of my mouth. And as my nephew would say, ta da! The closer was supposed to be there at five this evening, to relieve me. But, he accidently got there TWO HOURS early, and didn't want to go home and come back again. So you know what that means; I got to leave EARLY, on one of the most beautiful and warm afternoons of the year. Right now, instead of making twelve-thousand mocha frappuccinos for spoiled twelve year-olds, I am sitting in my living room with the shades up and the sun shining in, typing about how happy I am to not be at work, while watching season two of Arrested Development.

I am hap-hap-happy.

an afternoon.

I am eavesdropping on a conversation about Starbucks. And since I am in a locally owned coffee shop, the tone is inevitably negative. I understand, completely. I agree, mostly. And that's what is sad. How am I able to continue there knowing that there is a moral conflict that goes on within? I guess because the bills must be paid, and I am not fond of a desk job, and they have great benefits, and I love my boss, and the moral conflict has to do with the integrity of coffee and small business and not murder. But, I can't continue for much longer, this I know. My patience with having to explain the difference between a frappuccino blended coffee and frappuccino blended creme is wearing thin.

I have been batting with insecurity in leaving this place for the land of the morning calm, as you know, for the past few weeks. Teaching English to Korean children was my way out of this corporate giant mess. But it isn't anymore, for now. I don't have the emotional energy to go into the details at this juncture in the day. I just know that it's not time to leave Tulsa. I should know, and I don't. So I am not.

Which means, and you would know this already if you are inclined to deductive reasoning, that I must find a new way out. In other words, a different job.

I enjoy the setting if a university, and building relationships with people, and work that is about people and not the bottom line, or increasing productivity, or escalating sales. There is a possible position coming available for a residential director, the person that oversees the RA's, among other things, at TU. I would really enjoy that, and I am going to apply.

In reference to my decision to stay here for a while longer, and my reluctance to let go of this blissful season of life, I am excited about spending the summer in my house, with my roommates. I love love love my house, and as shallow as this may appear, don't be fooled, because it isn't; I want to spend all four seasons in that house. That lovely old house that is the age of 96.I also want to savor the time with the roommates that I become more thankful for with each day that passes. My mom sent me some pictures of shoes of mine that she was going to get rid of, asking if there were any that I wanted to keep. When I looked at the picture, these shoes and the feelings I got when I looked at them, were reminiscent of the feelings I feel when I think of summer spent here.

want.

It should be simple, as the only thing I really need to worry about is what I want to do. What do you do when you want two things that exist on different continents in equal amounts? One is extremely comforting and is full of laughter and continual blessings and friendships that continue to grow. The other is full of change and adventure and financial freedom and an existing friendship and possible new friends too. And so when someone looks at me and says that my choice should be based on what I want to do, I just get confused.

my very own soundtrack.

The thing I am loving about this is that I can write whenever and whatever I want. It doesn't even have to be good. And some would encourage me to write it all, post it all, as that is how we fine tune our craft, by repetition and seeing mistakes in print and doing it different the next time.

I am listening to The Scientist by Coldplay. And it is my favorite song of theirs, ever. Lyrically, to me, it's beautiful and tragic and difficult and real, and deeply, who wouldn't love being apologized to because they are unaware of how lovely they are? Musically, it's has some really great guitar moments. And something in the combination of those two factors gets to me. It's like when I was eating brownies in the living room a few nights ago and a Ray LaMontagne song came on as I was taking my first bite, and I almost shuddered. The combination of Ray and homemade chocolaty goodness somehow exemplified my aloneness. I quickly reminded myself that I was actually surrounded by some of my very best friends at that exact moment, and so I got over it.

Now Alanis Morissette is singing Mary Jane and when I was a girl I had an affinity for this song because Mary Jane and I have the same initials. And the song addresses honesty, which I love. One of the lines in the song says, "I hear you're losing weight again Mary Jane. You ever wonder who you're losing it for?" There was a time when my life spoke of that truth, and I did wonder, and couldn't answer.

My alarm continues to go off, because I had it set for ten AM, and I got up earlier than that, and made blueberry pancakes that almost made me cry. And as I sit here, I refuse to get up from the table to turn the damn thing off, because I am comfortable and in the middle of something and thanks to my itunes music library and the volume button on my computer, I can't really hear my alarm anyway. It's similar to what you hear when someone says your name and you look around to find out who it was, and there isn't anyone there, which means you imagined it. So Ingrid Michaelson, and December Baby, thank you for making the end of your song so chaotic that it helps drowned out the terrible sound of my alarm in the other room.

Song over. I can hear it again. Time to get up, return to reality, and turn it off.

the end.

The day was tiring.
Getting up before the sun comes out chips away at the potential goodness my day.
But a nap on the couch with the sun shining through the window onto my tired body is life giving.

I love hidden tracks on albums.
Little surprises crafted with care, tucked behind one of your old favorites.
I love surprises, and music, so it's no surprise that I would love musical surprises.

I had the worst shift of my life at work this morning.
Everything that could go wrong did, in the middle of an extremely long rush, and all happening while I tried desperately to contain my very small, very full bladder.
The kicker: it all took place with both of Tulsa's district managers in line watching me like a hawk, one of which was telling me what I should be doing while I was barely getting by.

My roommate Tonia is going to look at a car tomorrow.
It's an old Volvo, which is full of character.
And for her it is more than a car, it is freedom, and no more bus with creepy characters.

Wednesday is burger night at McNellies, which means they are three bucks.
Tonight was a night of cheddar cheese burgers, pub fries, and a $2.66 beer, totaling $6.80.
Cheap good food + priceless good friends = goodness.

I am sitting here ready for bed, halfway there.
Earlier, while watching the bbc version of Pride and Prejudice with Mary, I was yawning those deep, uncontrollable yawns, likely because of the getting up before dark I mentioned earlier.
Which is why now, I shall pull myself away from the enticing macbook, and dangerous internet, and, as my dear Aunt Mae would say, "rest my eyes".

masquerade

The second post of the day, different in nature and content than post one. Unnecessary information.

Since it is Tuesday and the common working man does not have Tuesdays off, I decided I would pretend that I am young woman who also happens to be the recipient of an inheritance, which also happens to be a large sum of money. And because my finances are taken care of, I can spend my time writing, and eating blackberry muffins for breakfast at the local coffee shop, where I enjoy crafting stories about life, common and uncommon, because it is my nature, and also because there is such a demand for the people of the world to read the tales I produce. And then, since it is my Tuesday, I decide to have an overpriced lunch with friends where we simply savor the food and wine and each other's company. Concluding my day would be a massage, which is a bi-weekly thing for me, given to me by, yes, you guessed it, the masseuse of all masseuse's, Kojac. Filling my evening would be a lovely dinner of freshly caught salmon, made by the chef that lives in my winter house, as it is still winter, and not yet time for me to return to my summer home. which brings us to evening, late evening, and the beckoning of my bed, where I fall asleep, and wake up in reality...Where...

I do have Tuesday off, but only because I work on Saturday, the day that the common working man stays home. I do have the blackberry muffin, which is tasty, but not without the reality that the money I spend on it is a section of what little I have. I do have lunch with friends, at El Chico, a wonderful place to consume imitation Mexican food, and terrible lunch special margaritas. The massage is real, too, but because it was a gift from a friend, and also will be the first of my life. Dinner will happen, but will be prepared by my hands, in the one home I have. And sleep, yes.

The shining part of the story is that given the choice, I would choose reality. I work hard, and sincerely appreciate the time I do have off. The muffin, made from whole and unrefined ingredients, was worth every penny. Lunch could not have been better, as there was fresh guacamole, the bad margarita will only help me appreciate all the more the actual good ones that I hope will fill my future...And the company of family makes the taste of the food and drink the secondary issue, as their love and desire to spend time with me is what I really value. The massage is kind of a big deal because it was a gift, given to me from a thoughtful friend and kindred spirit, and we are getting them together...The enjoyment that about to be experienced, post two jobs and many hours of standing on my feet, will be well worth the wait. And the good news about dinner is that I love to cook and love to have people to cook for. And my home? I love my home, and only ever need one. After the joy of my day, filled with goodness and simple pleasures and people that I love, rest will be an easy thing to attain. And that is why, given the choice, I would choose reality. Though it's still fun to pretend.

mulling it over, again.

Sometimes, when questions arise, it's best to go back to a point that anchored you sometime before. Fear will come, and happen, whenever there is impending change. And I don't want to make my decisions in life from a place of fear. I don't want to not do something because it kind of scares me. In fact, it's more accurate to say I want to do something because it kind of scares me, because you know what that means? It means some kind of growth is inevitable! And I love growth.

I said this in a post that I titled "Clarity"...was it? After rereading it all, me thinks yes.

"And the other reason I love the way that all of this talk impacts my future: My ultimate hope, as stated earlier, is to be a really great mom. When my son or daughter has grown too big for me to hold them in my arms, and then grown big enough to realize how big the world is, and they tell me that they want to move to South Africa or New York City or Mexico for whatever reason that stirs their heart, I want to be able to look back on my life and my experience, and tell them how much I will miss them, and also to go for it. And so I am not just making this choice for me, but also for that little being that all of me will greatly effect."

That wasn't the only paragraph that got me, but maybe the most true in regards to how the decision impacts my future, a future I feel so very strong about.

Truths:
I don't want to spend my life at Starbucks much longer.
I can't think of a job I want to do instead that would lead to anything else.
I would like to go back to school; culinary school, or pastry school, or for writing, or law school (a new thought)), or some kind of psychology, or for LIterature, or, have I said writing yet?
I don't want to go back to school until I have paid off some of my student loans.
I can't pay off my student loans with the amount of money I currently make.
I love other cultures.
I love challenges.
I have no real ties here that would keep me from going somewhere else, and I know that deep down the tie I am still barely holding on to is not right for the now.
I crave change, get excited about the unknown.
I don't want to be complacent.

so the question: how can I not?
the reality: it isn't/wasn't a fleeting notion.
the deciding factor, in light of the truths and fears: what do I want?

thoughts from any of my readers that help me see outside of my own scope? would be appreciated. If you know me, you know this about me: I love giving my opinions. what you may not know: I like reading yours.

must be shared

I just need to type this, because the loveliness of this moment is too sweet to just be experienced alone. And thanks to my blog, I don't have to.

The rain is pouring down on the ground, heavy enough to be fighting with my sweet simple music for attention. Thunder sounds in the distance I can't see. Clean room, from a day of throwing stuff that I didn't need away, in clean cotton pajamas, typing on my clean computer, abound to slide my recently shaven legs into a bed of clean sheets. More thunder. All of these pieces of my evening, that must be savored, also happen to be taking place on my favorite day of the week.

Could say more wonderful things about my Sunday, but I don't want those details to cloud how simply alive the above moment made me feel.

Peace to you, friends.