I am sick of my own whining.
I am an optimist. I always have been. And I am not willing to give that up, to surrender it to fear.
So here is what I am looking forward to when Kevin is gone.
Sleep:
I will have a queen sized bed to myself. I will not stay up later than 9:30 to spend time with Kevin, the night owl. I won't wake up to him sneaking into bed.
Writing:
I cannot write from the seat in the living room. I need a desk. And I never use it, because it is in the next room. The coffee table may work, as well; I will have to experiment. Also, to write, I need to spend hours at one go, uninterrupted. I need to re-read my recent pages to refocus myself, and I tend to do much revising before I am captured with the moment and begin to write unhindered. It takes work, and I can dedicate time to that in a quiet apartment.
Scripture Study:
I have only occasionally studied well since we've been married. Mostly, because I have not managed to wake up before six or, usually, six thirty. But I used to get up at five thirty and spread my several books and pencils over the entire kitchen table and study for half an hour. Now, I stumble out of bed too late to do so. And table space is at a premium. But I will leave my mess out for 29 straight days, go to bed earlier and study in the mornings.
Driving:
I will have total access to the car for the entire month. I will leave for work at the same time, get there earlier and leave there earlier and be home by five fifteen. Not only does that give me an entire hour and fifteen minutes extra time every evening, but I will also be able to take an entire hour at lunch time, instead of the measly half. With all that time, I think I will write. Or sleep.
Music:
I can play my music in the car, in the apartment, never ending music and singing. I will have the apartment to myself, so nobody will be bothered. I will not be tethered by headphones to the couch. And I can sing without embarrassment.
Emailing:
I express myself best in writing. Turns out, it uses a different part of the brain than speaking. Kevin and I have often communicated by email over the course of our relationship, and I treasure those letters. I have been sad that living together has decreased the necessity to write to one another. I am glad to have that chance again, to express in words things that I assume are implied and understood when we see each other daily.
For four solid weeks, I will get to focus myself entirely on me. Maybe I will find that some things work better that way, and others will be lacking for Kevin's absence. But it is not the end of the world, and Kevin will come back to me at the end of it.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
because I said I would
Nora has issued a challenge, and we're going to help each other write short daily blog posts. Because today is a good day (in the sense that it is not a bad day), I am going to take her up on the challenge.
The news for today is that Kevin is going to Europe for the month of November. At least, that was the original plan. Yesterday we were told that he is actually leaving Sunday. This Sunday. Five days from now. While we're on vacation in Utah.
I did not handle the news well. Of course, I handle very little with equanimity these days. Unless "equanimity" has come to mean sobbing into one's sweater in the back corner of the warehouse, periodically throughout the work day. I do not know what I will do with him gone. I mean that literally (my schedule and habitual activities will be affected) but more truthfully in the quite dramatic, LeAnne Rimes, "How Do I Live?", there'd-be-no-sun-in-my-sky way.
I feel lost thinking about it.
If Kevin were in favor of the idea, I would leave my job and spend the next 4-5 weeks touring Europe while he audits Dell factories. But I am not rational, and Kevin is. He'd never let me quit my job and spend ridiculous amounts of money, just like that, on a whim. And I suppose he is right.
But I am going to miss him very, very badly.
The news for today is that Kevin is going to Europe for the month of November. At least, that was the original plan. Yesterday we were told that he is actually leaving Sunday. This Sunday. Five days from now. While we're on vacation in Utah.
I did not handle the news well. Of course, I handle very little with equanimity these days. Unless "equanimity" has come to mean sobbing into one's sweater in the back corner of the warehouse, periodically throughout the work day. I do not know what I will do with him gone. I mean that literally (my schedule and habitual activities will be affected) but more truthfully in the quite dramatic, LeAnne Rimes, "How Do I Live?", there'd-be-no-sun-in-my-sky way.
I feel lost thinking about it.
If Kevin were in favor of the idea, I would leave my job and spend the next 4-5 weeks touring Europe while he audits Dell factories. But I am not rational, and Kevin is. He'd never let me quit my job and spend ridiculous amounts of money, just like that, on a whim. And I suppose he is right.
But I am going to miss him very, very badly.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
and the dog ate my homework
I have not posted in a long time. I have been busy. It is precisely when the most blog-worthy material is occurring that one has the least time to write.
Since last we met, I have moved. Thrice. Kevin promises that it will be the last time for a good long while. We've even planned out how many triple bunk beds we can fit in our second bedroom and thus how many kids we can have before a larger place is necessitated. By my reckoning the number is 12, but come unlucky child 13 and we'll have to upgrade to a three-bedroom. Luckily that won't be for five or six years, and I'll have plenty of cheap labor to help me pack.
I have also, in the past nine months, planned and executed a wedding. Quite successfully, I might add. I did less well with the honeymoon. (Please don't be juvenile.) Kevin and I discovered that not only did we spend the week in varying degrees of viral-induced agony, but we also don't have a single picture of us together from our honeymoon. I think this calls for a second one, if only to fill the frame I have set aside on an otherwise blank wall for just such a Kodak moment.
I have had two nieces. Yes, the labor was hard, but I came through it okay, and the girls are doing beautifully.
I turned twenty-five. For said birthday, I received OneNote, which has made organizing all my billions of fictive thoughts much easier. I feel ambitious to write again. Though, I promise you, I have not been spending time with my novels instead of my blog. I have been far too busy for either. That will change, however. Though I will never receive a penny for my work, I vow to waste years of my life scribbling away (or tip-tapping away on Eddie, my beloved laptop) on various pieces of aspiring literature.
I survived work at the Co-op during a championship football season. I changed my name. Twice. I have said positive things about Relief Society. I have had approximately 250 nightmares. I have been introduced to Sports Night. I got to spend time with Kevin, which we all know never happened during the courtship. I have built a registry and then purchased nearly everything on it. I have ordered pictures printed and hung a ridiculous number of frames. I am decorating an apartment against the event that we ever have people over to see it. I read regularly. I clean, do laundry, grocery shop, and I even try to make my husband dinner occasionally (it's not working: he's lost weight. I've gained it.)
Anyway, that's why I haven't written.
If you want, you can blame Facebook, which makes emotional outlets so much more accessible. But I'm done with Facebook and its cheap allurements. I have a rant about that, if you care to hear it. In fact, I have several things I can write about (and may eventually.) If anyone is still reading, I am open to suggestions, requests, ransom demands, etc. Popular topics on my mind include why I hate my job and why I can't leave it; what I'm not doing with my talents; my Marxist views on public transit (which is really part of a larger expose' on the general goings-on of the public transit universe); and married life: so, how is it?
And I promise to be better from now on.
Since last we met, I have moved. Thrice. Kevin promises that it will be the last time for a good long while. We've even planned out how many triple bunk beds we can fit in our second bedroom and thus how many kids we can have before a larger place is necessitated. By my reckoning the number is 12, but come unlucky child 13 and we'll have to upgrade to a three-bedroom. Luckily that won't be for five or six years, and I'll have plenty of cheap labor to help me pack.
I have also, in the past nine months, planned and executed a wedding. Quite successfully, I might add. I did less well with the honeymoon. (Please don't be juvenile.) Kevin and I discovered that not only did we spend the week in varying degrees of viral-induced agony, but we also don't have a single picture of us together from our honeymoon. I think this calls for a second one, if only to fill the frame I have set aside on an otherwise blank wall for just such a Kodak moment.
I have had two nieces. Yes, the labor was hard, but I came through it okay, and the girls are doing beautifully.
I turned twenty-five. For said birthday, I received OneNote, which has made organizing all my billions of fictive thoughts much easier. I feel ambitious to write again. Though, I promise you, I have not been spending time with my novels instead of my blog. I have been far too busy for either. That will change, however. Though I will never receive a penny for my work, I vow to waste years of my life scribbling away (or tip-tapping away on Eddie, my beloved laptop) on various pieces of aspiring literature.
I survived work at the Co-op during a championship football season. I changed my name. Twice. I have said positive things about Relief Society. I have had approximately 250 nightmares. I have been introduced to Sports Night. I got to spend time with Kevin, which we all know never happened during the courtship. I have built a registry and then purchased nearly everything on it. I have ordered pictures printed and hung a ridiculous number of frames. I am decorating an apartment against the event that we ever have people over to see it. I read regularly. I clean, do laundry, grocery shop, and I even try to make my husband dinner occasionally (it's not working: he's lost weight. I've gained it.)
Anyway, that's why I haven't written.
If you want, you can blame Facebook, which makes emotional outlets so much more accessible. But I'm done with Facebook and its cheap allurements. I have a rant about that, if you care to hear it. In fact, I have several things I can write about (and may eventually.) If anyone is still reading, I am open to suggestions, requests, ransom demands, etc. Popular topics on my mind include why I hate my job and why I can't leave it; what I'm not doing with my talents; my Marxist views on public transit (which is really part of a larger expose' on the general goings-on of the public transit universe); and married life: so, how is it?
And I promise to be better from now on.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Thursday, August 20, 2009
nevermore
I bonded with a girl at work over the Twilight books. Yes, I read them, and though I think they were poorly written, I had enough material to converse pleasantly about them. Then this co-worker asked me to read Evermore. She had just finished and hated it. With a recommendation like that...
Evermore wants to be Twilight. It really, really, falls short. I know: that's saying something.
Two-second plot recaps: Twilight is about a girl Bella falling in love with vampire Edward, who can’t at first decide what he wants more, her heart or her blood; Evermore is about a girl Ever who since the death of her family has psychic gifts and falls in love with the hot immortal who has been in love with her every incarnation for 600 years.
The heroes: First, there is Edward, a one-hundred-year-old vampire who has dedicated his existence to rising above his, shall we say, “natural vampire.” He is perfectly beautiful, a side-effect of his transformation, the better to lure you with, my dear. His black eyes and unsociable disposition give him a mysterious air, a rather brooding melancholy reminiscent of Byronic heroes. Given the contemporary setting, his passion is a little too Rochester for my taste. I wonder if his name is a throwback to that very character.
Edward can read minds. He is also a little creepy with his attentions. Overprotective, might be the right word. Possessive and obsessive might be others. All the same, he seems to genuinely love our heroine Bella for virtues we’ll later address, and takes care to preserve and extol said virtues. And he drives very fast, which is not as daredevil as it sounds, given his ridiculously fast reflexes.
Then there is Damen, a six-hundred-year-old immortal, who is also perfectly beautiful with dark hair and black eyes, though this is just crazy random happenstance that someone gorgeous gets to live forever, while the plain boys die off. He, too, can read minds. Unlike Edward, Damen can read the mind of the girl he loves, and he uses it against her. Quite often, attacking the vulnerabilities she cannot hide from him. He toys with her constantly, flirting with other girls, just to read her reactions and see if she has feelings for him. Can I just say, Edward would never do that.
If Edward is Rochester, then Damen is Heathcliff, far more violent and hedonistic than Edward, despite the latter’s blood-drinking. Damen has spent his life in immediate gratification, sexing up over the centuries. Like Edward, Damen visits his girl’s room at night to watch her sleep. He also never tells her where he lives or lets her have his phone number. His mystery is much more mind-your-own-damn-business while Edward is just trying to keep stakes from his family’s respective hearts (not that that or sun will kill them.) And Damen also drives fast, way too fast given that he does not have supernatural reactions. (Driving fast is not always attractive: some of us prefer men who use cruise control to stay at the speed limit. )
Is it obvious yet that I thought Damen to be the least deserving of perhaps any love-story hero? While I want to show that he has many traits in common with Edward, such as the eternal life thing, I must underline that he is manipulative and dangerous, which is not romantic. The number of times he makes out with Ever and then splits, or tries to get her into bed before she protests too strongly, is enough for me to want to punch him in the face. Edward might be a monster, but at least he doesn’t act like one.
The heroines: Both books are told as first-person accounts from the heroine’s perspective. Thus, a lot of what I think about the characters comes from their narrative skills, not just their self-portrayals.
Bella. I like Bella. She is beautiful and funny and smart and selfless, and she never once had to say so. She, in fact, views herself as being rather ordinary. However, the number of guys who crush on her speaks something to her appeal. I found myself laughing aloud at her sarcastic comments in the narration and to Edward. And, as for smart, she figured out Edward’s secret without psychic powers.
Bella is clumsy, which irks me. Clumsiness is the new fainting, when it comes to femininity in stories. It keeps the women physically inferior and helpless, while conceding to emotional strength. Not that Bella doesn’t faint whenever Edward kisses her.
Yes, her love for Edward is silly and oh-so-very seventeen, and very much based on the fact that she wants his venom-sculpted body. While I infinitely prefer Edward to Damen, I cannot understand why Bella fell in love with Edward; there was simply no basis provided to explain it. And she does get a little needy and redundantly emo about it.
Ever. To start, what a stupid name. Ever is beautiful. She says so. Often. And did I call Bella emo? Did I dare think Bella needy? Compared to Ever, Bella is refreshingly grounded and rational. Oh. My. Gosh. The whininess and clinginess of Ever. The Queen of indecisiveness and self-pity. She doesn’t pay attention to anyone’s needs but her own, dismissing fatal threats to her friend in order to alleviate a headache, and even then, she’d rather wallow than help herself. Funny? No. Smart? Umm, she’s psychic, has a dead little sister who can spy for her and still doesn’t figure out Damen’s secret. That’s with his wife of 600 years hanging around giving hints. How thick can you be? While I can’t see why Bella fell for Edward at first, I can’t see at all why Damen keeps hunting down Ever’s incarnations. Though he did say she’s always beautiful. She said so.
I know, I know, this is getting very long-winded. And I haven’t addressed the events of the books. I’ll try to be brief.
I have said that Twilight had no plot, that it was all exposition until the last few pages, when suddenly an unforeseen threat emerges, makes a ruckus and is quickly vanquished. I have to hand it to Evermore, it certainly had more rising action (and I do not just mean Damen). The threat in this case, immortal Drina (compared to Twilight’s vampire James), is in the book the entire time, seen as a competitive threat, stealing the affections of both Damen and Haven (Ever’s bff). But at the end, when she suddenly tries to kill Ever, again, having done away with every previous incarnation, I again have to ask myself, why the exposition? Why did she try so hard to brainwash Haven when she could have walked up to Ever at any time and shanked her?
And then! did I call Twilight’s climax lame? Ever leaves the face-off with Drina midway through to have another exposition chapter in which Damen describes the rules of immortality to her. It’s very much like the chapter in Twilight in which the two ensconce themselves in an out-of-the-way field to discuss the repercussions of their romance. Only, in Evermore, the field is in a different dimension. Seriously.
The second fight with Drina is just as random. Not only does Drina wait a few months before trying again, courteously giving Ever time to sort out her feelings about being immortal, but she is then killed by Ever touching her chest, because (get this) there was no love in her heart. What the hell? Even if Twilight’s conflict came out of nowhere, at least the fight was interesting and the villain died the good ol' fashioned way--being ripped to pieces and tossed onto a bonfire.
And don’t get me started on Evermore’s Disneyland scene. Yes, in real life, Disneyland is a point unto itself, but in a novel it needs to have reason for being. It was so…so…. when Avril bakes the cake.
The best parts of both books are the supporting characters. I would read Twilight again just for Alice, let alone Carlisle, Emmett and Charlie. And while no coercion on earth could make me read Evermore for one more second, I did enjoy her dead little sister, who liked to spy on celebrities and materialize in Halloween costumes.
In the end, the best thing about Evermore was that it gave me greater appreciation for Twilight.
Evermore wants to be Twilight. It really, really, falls short. I know: that's saying something.
Two-second plot recaps: Twilight is about a girl Bella falling in love with vampire Edward, who can’t at first decide what he wants more, her heart or her blood; Evermore is about a girl Ever who since the death of her family has psychic gifts and falls in love with the hot immortal who has been in love with her every incarnation for 600 years.
The heroes: First, there is Edward, a one-hundred-year-old vampire who has dedicated his existence to rising above his, shall we say, “natural vampire.” He is perfectly beautiful, a side-effect of his transformation, the better to lure you with, my dear. His black eyes and unsociable disposition give him a mysterious air, a rather brooding melancholy reminiscent of Byronic heroes. Given the contemporary setting, his passion is a little too Rochester for my taste. I wonder if his name is a throwback to that very character.
Edward can read minds. He is also a little creepy with his attentions. Overprotective, might be the right word. Possessive and obsessive might be others. All the same, he seems to genuinely love our heroine Bella for virtues we’ll later address, and takes care to preserve and extol said virtues. And he drives very fast, which is not as daredevil as it sounds, given his ridiculously fast reflexes.
Then there is Damen, a six-hundred-year-old immortal, who is also perfectly beautiful with dark hair and black eyes, though this is just crazy random happenstance that someone gorgeous gets to live forever, while the plain boys die off. He, too, can read minds. Unlike Edward, Damen can read the mind of the girl he loves, and he uses it against her. Quite often, attacking the vulnerabilities she cannot hide from him. He toys with her constantly, flirting with other girls, just to read her reactions and see if she has feelings for him. Can I just say, Edward would never do that.
If Edward is Rochester, then Damen is Heathcliff, far more violent and hedonistic than Edward, despite the latter’s blood-drinking. Damen has spent his life in immediate gratification, sexing up over the centuries. Like Edward, Damen visits his girl’s room at night to watch her sleep. He also never tells her where he lives or lets her have his phone number. His mystery is much more mind-your-own-damn-business while Edward is just trying to keep stakes from his family’s respective hearts (not that that or sun will kill them.) And Damen also drives fast, way too fast given that he does not have supernatural reactions. (Driving fast is not always attractive: some of us prefer men who use cruise control to stay at the speed limit. )
Is it obvious yet that I thought Damen to be the least deserving of perhaps any love-story hero? While I want to show that he has many traits in common with Edward, such as the eternal life thing, I must underline that he is manipulative and dangerous, which is not romantic. The number of times he makes out with Ever and then splits, or tries to get her into bed before she protests too strongly, is enough for me to want to punch him in the face. Edward might be a monster, but at least he doesn’t act like one.
The heroines: Both books are told as first-person accounts from the heroine’s perspective. Thus, a lot of what I think about the characters comes from their narrative skills, not just their self-portrayals.
Bella. I like Bella. She is beautiful and funny and smart and selfless, and she never once had to say so. She, in fact, views herself as being rather ordinary. However, the number of guys who crush on her speaks something to her appeal. I found myself laughing aloud at her sarcastic comments in the narration and to Edward. And, as for smart, she figured out Edward’s secret without psychic powers.
Bella is clumsy, which irks me. Clumsiness is the new fainting, when it comes to femininity in stories. It keeps the women physically inferior and helpless, while conceding to emotional strength. Not that Bella doesn’t faint whenever Edward kisses her.
Yes, her love for Edward is silly and oh-so-very seventeen, and very much based on the fact that she wants his venom-sculpted body. While I infinitely prefer Edward to Damen, I cannot understand why Bella fell in love with Edward; there was simply no basis provided to explain it. And she does get a little needy and redundantly emo about it.
Ever. To start, what a stupid name. Ever is beautiful. She says so. Often. And did I call Bella emo? Did I dare think Bella needy? Compared to Ever, Bella is refreshingly grounded and rational. Oh. My. Gosh. The whininess and clinginess of Ever. The Queen of indecisiveness and self-pity. She doesn’t pay attention to anyone’s needs but her own, dismissing fatal threats to her friend in order to alleviate a headache, and even then, she’d rather wallow than help herself. Funny? No. Smart? Umm, she’s psychic, has a dead little sister who can spy for her and still doesn’t figure out Damen’s secret. That’s with his wife of 600 years hanging around giving hints. How thick can you be? While I can’t see why Bella fell for Edward at first, I can’t see at all why Damen keeps hunting down Ever’s incarnations. Though he did say she’s always beautiful. She said so.
I know, I know, this is getting very long-winded. And I haven’t addressed the events of the books. I’ll try to be brief.
I have said that Twilight had no plot, that it was all exposition until the last few pages, when suddenly an unforeseen threat emerges, makes a ruckus and is quickly vanquished. I have to hand it to Evermore, it certainly had more rising action (and I do not just mean Damen). The threat in this case, immortal Drina (compared to Twilight’s vampire James), is in the book the entire time, seen as a competitive threat, stealing the affections of both Damen and Haven (Ever’s bff). But at the end, when she suddenly tries to kill Ever, again, having done away with every previous incarnation, I again have to ask myself, why the exposition? Why did she try so hard to brainwash Haven when she could have walked up to Ever at any time and shanked her?
And then! did I call Twilight’s climax lame? Ever leaves the face-off with Drina midway through to have another exposition chapter in which Damen describes the rules of immortality to her. It’s very much like the chapter in Twilight in which the two ensconce themselves in an out-of-the-way field to discuss the repercussions of their romance. Only, in Evermore, the field is in a different dimension. Seriously.
The second fight with Drina is just as random. Not only does Drina wait a few months before trying again, courteously giving Ever time to sort out her feelings about being immortal, but she is then killed by Ever touching her chest, because (get this) there was no love in her heart. What the hell? Even if Twilight’s conflict came out of nowhere, at least the fight was interesting and the villain died the good ol' fashioned way--being ripped to pieces and tossed onto a bonfire.
And don’t get me started on Evermore’s Disneyland scene. Yes, in real life, Disneyland is a point unto itself, but in a novel it needs to have reason for being. It was so…so…. when Avril bakes the cake.
The best parts of both books are the supporting characters. I would read Twilight again just for Alice, let alone Carlisle, Emmett and Charlie. And while no coercion on earth could make me read Evermore for one more second, I did enjoy her dead little sister, who liked to spy on celebrities and materialize in Halloween costumes.
In the end, the best thing about Evermore was that it gave me greater appreciation for Twilight.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
wicked
Too many people have too few perfect nights. Last Wednesday was one for me. The whole night was enchanted. Kevin took me to see Wicked. I have wanted to see that musical for four years now, ever since Tarythe introduced me to the soundtrack.
For starters, there was the boy. If I could have picked anyone in the world to take me out, I would have chosen him. I couldn't design a better match for me if I tried. I might have accidentally left out the part where he would carry an umbrella over my head while we walked past a fountain. And then put him in a suit with a blue dress shirt! I could hardly stop myself from swooning.
Secondly, I wore the dress of all dresses. I did design a perfect dress, exchanging emails with Mom in the hopes of constructing it. Then we found it at Nordstroms in all its Audrey-fitting glory. I felt radiant, like an internal spotlight were shining from me and on me. I brimmed with good will and innocuous vanity.
And then there was the play itself, everything I had hoped for and more. The music was richer, the dialogue funnier and the pathos fuller than I dreamed it would be. I intermittently clapped and laughed, leaned forward eagerly in my seat, leaped from it during applause, wept during For Good and squeezed Kevin's arm in delight. The best part was, not just the play, but seeing it after desiring to for so long. It was a dream come true. And happy is what happens when all your dreams come true.
When Kevin and I meandered back to his car along a dark and deserted path, past several ancient and twisted trees, I felt utterly and perfectly happy.
For starters, there was the boy. If I could have picked anyone in the world to take me out, I would have chosen him. I couldn't design a better match for me if I tried. I might have accidentally left out the part where he would carry an umbrella over my head while we walked past a fountain. And then put him in a suit with a blue dress shirt! I could hardly stop myself from swooning.
Secondly, I wore the dress of all dresses. I did design a perfect dress, exchanging emails with Mom in the hopes of constructing it. Then we found it at Nordstroms in all its Audrey-fitting glory. I felt radiant, like an internal spotlight were shining from me and on me. I brimmed with good will and innocuous vanity.
And then there was the play itself, everything I had hoped for and more. The music was richer, the dialogue funnier and the pathos fuller than I dreamed it would be. I intermittently clapped and laughed, leaned forward eagerly in my seat, leaped from it during applause, wept during For Good and squeezed Kevin's arm in delight. The best part was, not just the play, but seeing it after desiring to for so long. It was a dream come true. And happy is what happens when all your dreams come true.
When Kevin and I meandered back to his car along a dark and deserted path, past several ancient and twisted trees, I felt utterly and perfectly happy.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
in layman's terms
I am reading a great book right now, wherein one character describes human interactions in math terms, "absolute value" being the one I remember best right now. This character is usually rather flippant, so when his companion stopped for a beat after this explanation, I expected her to respond about the unusual depth and understanding he showed. Instead, she was completely confused by the terms and application. I laughed at myself when I realized my misunderstanding. That passage was intended to be confusing! But then again, I think of life through economics vocabulary. Nora knows that my favorite phrase is "sunk costs are irrelevant." To me, it is a moral about foresight, against grudge-bearing, and in favor of change, among many others. So even if I am a little bit off from the average layman, I at least have sympathy with a flippant god of bravery. I like the book better now.
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