traveling year
In talking with my friend Wade a while back over coffee (well, my coffee and his Diet Coke), I faced a question that I am usually able to dodge: what do I see myself able to do within the next 6 months? And not necessarily work-wise, but personally… What do I want to do in 6 months? It took me some time to think, mainly because I never think long-term, and I usually don't like to think about things that I want to do. I tend to always want to do and plan for others.
So, I was challenged to begin thinking about what I wanted to do, and one of the things that came up was travel. Because I'm completely geeked out on history, there are a few cities on my list that I have never visited, and I want to see for historical purposes: Boston, Philadelphia, Chicago, Pittsburgh, and Detroit. I know, I know… some of those cities, I should've already visited as a history nerd, so sue me. But, I've had fiscal limitations. By the time you add up the transportation, hotel, food, etc., it gets costly! Fortunately, I have a friend in Chicago, so that makes it a little easier. And today, I found out that my cousin is moving to Philadelphia! So now, I have another resource for a visit!!
I have no problem doing the travel alone, because I can see what I want when I want (ask SassyBlonde when I ran amok in the city during my visits before I moved the first time to D.C.). But, the sketchiness comes in when you have to look at inexpensive places to stay for hotels or hostels. And, while I pretty much live in an area that most people in D.C. won't visit past 5 p.m., I still don't want to push it while I'm visiting an area that I'm not familiar with.
Now I need to befriend some Bostonians (God help me with the accents), and some folks in Pitt and Detroit. Of course, I've been through Detroit's airport, but that doesn't count. Off to befriend total strangers and make them my best friends so I can stay with them for visits… well, tomorrow and thereafter.
resonant conversations
Today, I went down to Eastern Market with some friends, just for an opportunity to socialize. While I was the slowpoke who barely made it down to grace their presence, I did get to walk around with them for a few moments before they departed back for the 'burbs of Virginia. Then, as I made my way back toward my car, I decided to browse through some of the artisans' tents and make the best of my few hours out of the house, since I had been stuck inside it sick for almost two weeks now. As I browsed through jewelry, clothing, and art, I appreciated the work that went into each piece.
Moe than the handiwork, though, some artisans took the time to connect with the people browsing in their space. Beginning questions of their work turned into deeper questions on life and passion. One painter, a man originally from northeastern Tennessee, painted vivid scenes of D.C. neighborhoods. We talked about the South, and about the small neighborhoods from which we came, and how they differed from the life and speed of the world of D.C. And people say there are no southerners here…
Another vendor, a printmaker, who originally hailed from Russia, picked up on my accent and asked me about it. I told him that I was from Alabama, and he began asking me how the state felt about politics, democracy, and Obama. He moved from Russia straight to D.C. just a few years ago. He explained that he had such a difficult time understanding how some regions could have such a political stronghold and not be swayed. However, I told him that he couldn't simply single out the South in his judgments about political strongholds. He asked about racism, and I again told him that the South alone was not guilty in the stereotypes. I explained to him that the racism that exists continues because it is often passed down through families, and it is more than just black and white. I told him that it is a problem that is more than just a recent occurence. He asked very innocently about how the country can begin to move beyond racism and coexist peacefully. I told him that to me, love is the only way that I know how. He thanked me for my answers, and gave me a small traditional Russian Orthodox print in appreciation for spending time with him.
A few moments later, I went and stopped by another vendor of an artist who painted abstracts of D.C. The artist's girlfriend was in the booth. I saw a painting that I loved, and decided that I wanted it for myself, because I couldn't turn it down. Also, because while I was in the booth and talking with her for a few moments, I noticed her book about linguistics and asked her if she was in school. She is currently working on her Ph.D. We began discussing grad school, and I told her of my hopes to study history and write a specific local history of D.C. When I told her that, she slashed the price of the piece I told her I was buying. But, her conversation about her experiences in grad school and how she has enjoyed studying and research will stick with me. And, I'll enjoy the great print that I didn't have to haggle, and it already has a perfect place on my wall.
All of these conversations help me to realize that it's such an amazingly strange and beautiful world, full of wonder, and full of confusion. I like the thought that each day, we are all a piece of each person's puzzle. And each person today fit perfectly into my puzzle. Every conversation helped me to reaffirm who I am, who I want to be, and who I have always been. Everyone has a story… and everyone's stories are intertwined. It's one of the essential tools I carry as a southerner: storytelling (and storygathering). I wish I was better at storytelling most of the time. But, I love listening to the stories of people and where they have been and what people have done. And without people to make conversation, with whom can we share our stories?
There's a song from Brandi Carlile, called "The Story," that has the most incredible lyrics that fit right into my day:
All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to.
There is so much more that I don't know out in the world, and I need some of these resonant conversations in order to gain insight into my own soul, and to motivate me toward my own personal greatness (which, isn't to say that it's all that great, but it's a personal best). I definitely cherish many conversations that I have, and log them away into the depths of my soul. They help me become more alive than I could ever imagined.
HIPAA-critical
After my illness took a pretty quick downturn today, my mom, the super nurse (and former ER triage nurse) sent me to the ER via phone from Alabama. So, knowing that it'd be a long wait and would be absolutely miserable, I went anyway, because some of my symptoms were veering toward serious illness.
I got to get back in a pretty decent time frame, mainly because my symptoms triggered the sirens of crazed illness beyond just the viral or bacterial sickness. Of course, once you get back, that's when the waiting begins. I was poked and prodded every way possible. Blood work, head CT, strep test, x-rays, UAs, and a spinal tap (which failed because the doc didn't have the right needles, and just left me in pain).
But, while I was waiting in the lovely clinic-like ER side unit that was divided by lovely curtains, and I was nestled in "room" D5 for about 8 hours this evening, I got to hear every single conversation going on in D1-D4 & D6. And boy were they interesting. Read more
i feel like dancing
I have good days, and I have bad days. My bad days have been greater lately, just with the overwhelming stress of work and exhaustion, but I digress.
I get sick of the bad days… I'm an optimist by nature. Even when things are crazy busy and everyone around has a bad attitude, I continually try to find something to smile or laugh about, just because I don't want to be dragged down. So, being stuck in the house all week with a virus and basically exhausted and flat on my back has kept me from being able to see the glass in its proverbial hall full state.
Today, I schlepped out for an early morning meeting (to me, anything before 10 a.m. is early, yeah, yeah, say what you will, I'm NOT a morning person) at 8 a.m. out in past the beltway in NoVA. From where I live, that's basically about a 35 minute drive on any given day without traffic. Thankfully, I saw last night that the National Marathon was going on this morning and found an alternate route, or my commute would've been even longer. THAT would've made me even unhappier. The meeting was 4 hours. FOUR HOURS. ON A SATURDAY. Now, given the fact that it is for an alumni association, I am more than happy to give of my time for them and help out, especially now that I'm required because I'm an officer. But, seeing as how I had a few bad days already, an 8 a.m. meeting out in Timbuktu from D.C. did not add any glimmer of hope to balancing my scales toward the happy side.
After the meeting, I once again dodged the Marathoners, secretly hoping to possibly hit one, two, maybe a spectator, or even better a tourist for some points. OK, I kid. As I'm rerouting my way home, I run into another detour… there's a protest march going on down Rock Creek Parkway toward the Pentagon (thanks WUSA for letting us know that this morning AFTER it started… you guys are 2 for 2 on this now in 12 hours). I finally get around the detour and head home, and my stomach is growling ferociously.
I decided to stop into the neighborhood deli… It's a quaint Jamaican bakery that made me the most amazing 
King Cake for Mardi Gras! 
And, they have wonderful sandwiches. So, I ordered myself a sandwich and was waiting when the two most adorable girls came in, chattering in what is most likely an Ethiopian language (one of 84… how am I supposed to know which one?). And then, they see the cakes they want in the cooler window, and start singing and dancing! I couldn't keep a frown on my face and just started giggling along with them like a little school girl.
I realized then how I've been missing my own dancing in life lately. The old adage goes:
Dance like no one is watching,
Love like you'll never be hurt,
Sing like no one is listening,
Live like it's heaven on earth.
I need to remind myself more often that life's moments are only here for that long, and I need to enjoy them while I can. So, I'll be cranking up my iPhone/iPod a little louder, and probably looking a little more like a fool when I walk down the street, because the sounds of my playlists will be putting a bit more rhythm into my step, and making that water glass a lot fuller. Heck, it may start overflowing.
retro-introspection
Now that the Board Meeting at work is over, and my life is back to some version of normal (or something like that), I've been given a few more moments to think about my own life (shock, right?!). As soon as I got back on Sunday, I finally had the chance to process the news of rejection letters from the doctoral program to which I applied (this year, only one… last year, eight). I had received the news before I left for the Board Meeting, but I refused to inform anyone I knew (except for my family), because I knew that everyone would issue regrets and try to console me. At their attempts of consolation, I knew that I would probably break down because of the Board Meeting stress, so I just withheld it until after the meeting. In fact, a coworker was surprised that I had held the secret the entire time until we were on the plane back to D.C. when she brought up that I'd be hearing soon about school. And, because I'm awesome at hiding my feelings when surrounded by hundreds of strangers, I was quickly able to brush off with a joke and move on to a funny picture in Sky Mall.
Everything about what I would now not be doing really hit on Sunday night after I had a bit of rest… it was kind of like a gut punch to the stomach. Combined with the exhaustion, it's probably why the virus that I'm suffering from right now was able to complete knock me out. And, yeah, the news, it sucks. However, I refuse to let it keep me down and make me a pessimist.
I met with a good friend for dinner right before I went to Board Meeting, and he shared with me his planning tool: a 10-10-10 (10 weeks, 10 months, 10 years). So, in my downtime, I'm working on my own 10-10-10, which is odd for me, because I've never been the kind of person to make timed long-term personal goals for myself. I like to plan for the week, and things that are coming up for work and social events, but not personal goals. So, this is really a first for me. And, I won't lie, it's a little challenging. I feel a little vain and conceited thinking that I should be so awesome as to complete X & Y by year A or B. But, I'm determined to start thinking that way. And while I do have a Bucket List/wishlist of things that I want to do before I die, I think of those in a totally different way. Now my feet are to the fire with these goals.
I am also having to work on another life plan in a sort of way. It brings me back around to the question that I asked myself in high school and in college of what I really want to do in life, and if I will really be happy doing that, or will I be happy just getting a paycheck as long as I like where I am and enjoy the atmosphere. Should I be happy to have a job and stick to it (and most Americans right now I'm sure would say yes to this)? Or should I take that leap of faith and really go after what I want to do? It's a complete reversal on what I expected that I would be doing as I am approaching my 30th birthday (even more rapidly than I expected).
I guess viruses can be sheep in wolves clothing sometime (you read that right). While they are horrible and leave you on your back, they leave you with time for reflection and introspection, or even a retro-introspection. It has been good to have the time to think and to wonder about what can, might, or will happen, but I can also overthink and overanalyze, or even just boggle my own mind. It's good to have a few good friends that jump in and ask the right questions to help you work your way out of your own maze of the mind and get you back on track. It's also strange to me that I have to reflect and think back as far back as I have just to get to the point that I can start on my plans again. Who knew I had gotten so far along without thinking about what I wanted for so long? Not my parents, friends, or professors. Crazy, isn't it?
At this point, there are still so many questions that still don't have answers. But, I do know that I have a greater sense of peace because of the time that I have had to consider life plans and options instead of feeling rushed to make decisions. And, at this point, no matter what, I will consult my plans and my 10-10-10 to see how to map out what I'm doing and if it makes sense toward a final goal. If it doesn't, I will hope money starts growing on trees, or that I've bagged Nelly or George Clooney as a boyfriend!
fighter
I've always tried to hold tightly to my dreams and passions in life. And when I mean tightly, it usually means that at times, it involves erratic decisions, or crazy ideas, that sometimes seem outside the box to family and close friends. Those dreams and passions have stirred several moves across county and state lines… throughout Alabama, to St. Louis, and to Washington, D.C. My parents (and several friends) joke that they don't know anyone who has moved as much as me, and I'm not even in the army or an appointed minister.
Still, these journeys that I have taken provide lessons throughout my life, as well as incredible connections to people that I will never forget. I'm thankful for each and every relationship that I have made along the way. Wherever I am, there is always something about someone from the past that will remind me of one of the probably thousands of people I have encountered along my path by now.
A friend recently shared that this generation (my generation) won't be like my parents, who stay in a position, job, or career as lifers. Instead, we'll bounce from place to place. I suppose I'm the poster child for my generation. And, you know, I'm OK with it. I have enjoyed every single place that I have been. It probably doesn't look the greatest on my CV/resume in the long run, but the experiences and stories that I have gained are likely more than someone who has stayed in a position for 10 years because of the diversity of my background and life experiences.
While those dreams and passions are incredible, and drive me to the core, they can be incredibly heartbreaking when one that is of the highest priority seems to be delayed in fruition, regardless of how much effort and work you put into it. What is worse, when you are placed at the possibility of having to choose between two dreams and passions that you highly regard, it is one of the hardest decisions to make. I'm in the midst of one of those times right now.
I suppose much of it comes down to what you are capable of, which I believe both arenas to be possible. However, how much heartbreak can one person take when those dreams don't come true? At what point do you just break away and call it quits, or do you ever?
Growing up, I played basketball (call me a lifer of basketball). I was a starter beginning in 5th grade. We were the "fab five" around the county, and proved it by winning every game, every championship, and having a record placed in the state record book. And, though I was plagued by horrific knee problems from 6th grade throughout my senior year (that I pay for daily now, ugh), my dad continually pushed me and wouldn't let me quit. He told me that I would regret it if I ever did. He's right… During some of my greatest moments of adversity, I look back to basketball as a way to push through, sort of a Hoosiers locker room moment. And, oh the stories that I have because of it. I'd never have the memories without those years.
As much as I want to quit, I have never been a quitter. And, I don't want to start now. I have to re-evaluate, that is for sure, and figure out if my dreams are really possible, or what I can really do with them, or how to achieve them from a different angle.
I do know this… I'm no Nixon. I'll go down in my own version of history as a fighter like Bobby Kennedy or Andrew Jackson. Of course, I don't know that I'd classify as them for fighting the same kinds of battles, but you get the idea… 
Keep the punches coming. I've got my gloves up, and I'm not going down for the count.
wordsmithing
I'm taking back an old habit that I once had before: reading. While I don't have the wealth of time that I did when I was a full time graduate student (of course, then, it was my "job" to read), I still enjoy the time that I get to escape into the author's creative center. One of my favorite authors to read is Sarah Vowell. She has a way of writing that continually pulls me in and I can't put the book down… unless of course, it's almost 1am, and I'm about to fall asleep because of how long my day has been. But, that's not the point.
Sarah Vowell tends to take on political and historical topics with a twist. Lately, she has trended toward historical topics, which as a history geek, I'm all over. Her last book, Assassination Vacation, was absolutely hysterical, and it made me want to jump in my car and start road-tripping to see dead president's graves, a task which I've already taken up (Kennedy, Taft, A. Johnson = check). Last spring, one of my graduate reading seminars focused on the factors leading into the American Revolution. Sarah Vowell's newest book, The Wordy Shipmates, focuses on the journey of the early pilgrims, the leadership of John Winthrop, and the beginnings of the Plymouth/Massachusetts Bay Colony.
If you've ever heard Vowell on This American Life on NPR, then you're familiar with her style. She's quirky, snarky, and incredibly intelligent. And most of my guy friends who have a brain can tell you that they'd love to date her, or even marry her. Hence, I'd say, I'd love to be her, too. Again, that wasn't the point I was going to make, but she's amazing, nonetheless. Take for example two excerpts from the book:
…Lincoln, early on in the Civil War, called for saving the Union because it was the 'last best hope of earth.' That was the speech in which Lincoln pointed out 'we cannot escape history.' Well, we can't. …[W]hat happened at Abu Ghraib is sickening, not only because it's just plain sickening but because America is supposed to be better than that. No: best. I hate to admit it, but I still believe that, too. Because even though my head tells me that the idea that America was chosen by God as His righteous city on a hill is ridiculous, my heart still buys into it…. Why is America the last best hope of Earth? What if it's Liechtenstein? Or, worse, Canada? …[WInthrop said] The eyes of all people are upon us. And all they see is a mash-up of naked prisoners and an American girl in fatigues standing there giving a thumbs-up. As I write this, the United States of America is still a city on a hill; and it's still shining–because we never turn off the lights in our torture prisons. That's how we carry out the sleep deprivation.
Or, another excerpt…
In terms of historical tourism, the Pilgrims of 1620 get all the glory. Families, my own included, plan vacations around visiting Plymouth's Mayflower II and 'Plimouth Plantation,' the re-created colonial English and Wampanoag village on the outskirts of town. My sister Amy, my then seven-year-old nephew Owen, and I visited it one summer. It is peopled by actors who will not, under any circumstances, break character–not even when Owen suggested they could really spruce up their cramped little houses by shopping at Home Depot or maybe even Lowe's because Lowe's offers 'everyday low prices.' …We then made the acquaintance of one Englishman Amy dubbed the 'Pilgrim Archie Bunker.' We had just ambled through the Wampanoag village and watched a woman cooking with a clay pot, so Owen had indigenous people on his mind. He told Archie about his collection of Hopi and Navajo kachina dolls he started the previous summer when we went to the Grand Canyon. After an annoying back-and-forth in which Archie determined we apparently came from New Spain and were therefore suspected of Catholicism, we returned to the subject of kachinas. Archie backed away from Owen and asked if if they were poppets. No, Owen said, 'Not puppets–wood carvings.' I told him a poppet is a doll used in witchcraft. 'You know, like when Scooby Doo goes to Salem.' Owen shook his head at Archie and said, 'Kachinas are gods, Hopi and Navajo gods.' Archie poined his finger at Owen's chest and raised his voice, 'Not the true God Jesus Christ!' Then he told Owen he's never shot an Indian personally but he wouldn't lose any sleep over it if he did, and that he would trade with the Indians, though he would never give them anything of value, perhaps 'a pot that was full of holes.' Then my sister grabbed Owen by the arm and said, 'Come on, Owen. Let's get out of here before Mama punches a Pilgrim.
Reading Sarah Vowell gives me a little more hope in the world. With my snarky, sarcastic background, mixed with a passion for history and politics, it's nice to know that there is someone out there who absolutely gets it 100% in writing, and can do it well.
But, dang it Sarah, you beat me to it. Now I have to find another dream to dream…
epic days
Lately, it seems that my days have been incredibly long and daunting. The work that I do during the day is absolutely exhausting and leaves me crawling on the couch to do nothing in the evenings. I've become a social hermit because of upcoming events at work. Hopefully after March 14, life will return to some kind of normalcy. Days that I have right now are not the kind that I enjoy.
But, then there are days that I live for… the big historic events, college football Saturdays, holidays. But, more than anything, the days I LOVE are birthdays (probably because I have a December birthday and it gets overshadowed by some other major holidays that don't seem as important as my day… kidding). More specifically, I love to celebrate the birthdays of my friends and family. I always want to do something amazing and unique for birthdays, but it often doesn't happen because of distance or timing. Mostly, I just want to spend time with them and celebrate them, mainly because it's their day.
Tomorrow is a pretty epic day for an amazing woman in my life, well, actually two amazing women. To my great fortune, my dear, sweet, best friend Mollie has the same birthday as my grandmother (so, I just happen to never forget it! Or her anniversary either, because she married on my father's birthday… and strangely enough, Mollie's husband's birthday is my parent's anniversary. Weird, right?). But, back to my story… tomorrow is the birthday for two amazing women, both my grandmother and Mollie. And, March 5 is a sacred day for me.
For my grandmother (Mamaw), tomorrow marks her 75th year with us. And she doesn't look a day beyond 60 (our family has incredible genes). I'm so thankful for her, and she has been the backbone and strength of our family, alongside my Papaw who tends to have failing health at times. My grandmother is the typical southern woman: quiet strength, but she can be the life of the party. She loves to jab at me for "living in the North." We quip back and forth at each other, and I continually remind her that I've never lost any southern flair, especially by just listening to my voice. One of my favorite things to do is to have a really funny story in the bag to tell when I go home to tell her. She's one of those folks who tends to start giggling so hard that she starts tearing up and she can't stop laughing. I love to see her laughing. It can wipe a frown off anyone's face. In fact, in light of the horrific day I've had, thinking about it makes things just a little brighter.
People like my grandmother make me want to leave legacies like I know she will leave behind with me. When I go home, as much time as I want to spend with the multitude of friends I have all across the state, I cherish the stories she passes along about the members of our family who've gone on before. I think she knows that I'll be the next storyteller of the family, as she has been in ours. I've learned so much from our heritage and history from her, and I hope that I can be half the incredible woman that she is when I reach her age. If I can do half of what she does by then and be happy and as full of life as she is, I'll consider my life an amazing and fulfilled journey.
snowplay
March came in quietly and is still lying softly in powder fashion on my lawn. It was absolutely magnificent. If only I could've spent the entire day at home playing in the snow, except that Obama commented on how DC was full of people who weren't winter tough and needed to learn "Chicago flintiness." Well, as far as I'm concerned, his flintiness can find its way back to Chicago, because with tons of snow on the ground, and as a Southerner who didn't get much snow as a child, I deserved a snow day. But, we're on the feds system for delays, so all we got was a 2-hr delay. And it was absolutely messy getting in. But, everyone, including myself, was in a horrific mood because of the commute.
Needless to say, I was very glad to have 5.5" this morning, and about 7" total in the backyard in some spots. So, as soon as 4:30 hit, I bolted out the door and headed home, excited to get to this hizzouse and play in the snow. My first thought was to make a snowman… but the snow was too powdery.
So, I made a snow angel. I lay on the ground and just looked up, so glad to know that I was just surrounded by powdery white snow. Then I felt how cold that snow was through the jeans. And then I realized as a person of my age, and who doesn't get up quickly of the ground, that snow goes down the back of your pants quickly (not to mention it's really cold… duh). As I got up, I started dancing around because the snow went down my pants pretty quickly, and then realized I had an audience across the street. Glad they enjoyed the show.
After that, I literally took on the 4-year-old in me and just ran around the yard kicking the snow. Why? Because I could. I took a few more pictures and stomped around in it, and people giggled at a grown woman playing around in the snow. But, I could care less. I really enjoyed getting to play around in the snow. It was like being a kid again. I was a kid again!
There are just a few pictures of my rendezvous with the fantastic dusting that DC received after the jump… Read more
tech-crazed
I love what the world has come to somedays… I could not live without my iPhone, and what it can do amazes me. From Twitter to Facebook to the wonderment of the internets, our lives have up-to-date information that can fill the void of life when we're alone in our homes. We've basically created the perfect hermit life… except NOW, oh wait! There are web cams!
I love the idea of video chatting… Especially since I live in a city far from my family and I don't get to see them very often. I even got to see my niece's 1-year-old birthday party by sitting in front of my laptop via video chat since her birthday was Inauguration weekend, and flights were nearly impossible to get back to D.C. I love getting to chat with my brother and sister-in-law, and love to see my niece try to figure out why her Auntie Em is on a screen and not dragging her around in the Red Flyer Wagon like she did a few weeks ago (I'm still recooping from that… what a workout).
Now, my parents have a web cam. With the upgrade to my MacBook Pro, I granted my parents my former Mac, the PowerBook G4. My mom absolutely LOVES iPhoto, and checking her email. More than anything though, she and my dad will gather together to Skype me and we'll talk about everything going on. I think they enjoy it a little more than just regular phone conversations… and I won't lie. I hate talking on the phone because I just have to stare at a wall, and heaven forbid there's a hockey game or a movie on, because I'm gonna lose my attention span. But, with the video chat, I can tell stories in all my grandeur to my parents and friends (even if one said friend decides to put the chat on an HDTV and make my head bigger than it should ever be).
It's a funny thing when your parents get as tech-y as the kids. My parents have an HDTV with the surround sound and it's mounted on the wall. Now they have GPS, a Mac, a web cam, and they want a Blu-Ray player. I don't have half of that stuff. I'm scared to take my Wii home for Easter for fear that they'll buy one of those too (although, I won't like, it'd be fun to watch my mom and dad Wii-boxing over video chat).
All this to say that I guess the tech-craze can be good and bad. It gets outdated so fast. I just bought my iPhone not long ago, and now they are promising a new release of one? Seriously? What's wrong with the one I have? And with all the DVDs I have, will they be obsolete in the next few years because of Blu-Ray? What comes next after Blu-Ray? Why can't we be content with what we have? Or maybe I should just ask myself that question.
For me, I think I'll just stick with my Netflix (& Instant Queue) and Amazon Unbox with my TiVo. They keep me happy without having to snag movies. And then, if I can't be fulfilled, I have the internets. And then, if I'm just down in the dumps, I guess I'll just have to suck it up and get out and actually go talk to people. Won't that just be a shame.
