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When I'm not here, you may find me wandering the pages below. (If I'm a regular visitor to your site and I've left your link off or mislinked to you, please let me know! And likewise, if you've blogrolled me, please check that my link is updated: thisroamanticlife.blogspot.com. The extra (a) makes all the difference!)

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Body: in sickness and in health

I won't lie; this body and I have had our issues with each other for many years. Body image -- sure. Physical and mental overextension -- comes with being a Type A kind of girl. I still struggle with these things, so they show up from time to time in my writing.

More recently, illness, pure but not simple, has added itself to the mix in a multi-system sort of way. And the challenges in figuring out exactly what's gone wrong are many. As problems have revealed themselves in the last few years, beginning with reactive hypoglycemia in late 2008, I've documented them here, partly to gain a little clarity on managing complex conditions but mostly to give voice to vulnerabilities I feel but don't normally share with anyone face to face. Better out than in, they say, right? (Oh yes, humor is one way I deal.)

The links below cover the different angles I've examined (and from which I've been examined) within that experience.

Travel: neither here nor there

When the person you're married to lives two time zones away, you log a fair number of frequent flier miles. And if you blog about commuter relationships, you log quite a few posts en route too.

Since we're no longer in separate places, I blog less often from airports. But we do travel -- together now! -- which is much more fun to write about. So in addition to thoughts on our years of commuting, the links below cover the places we've been as a pair and, in some cases, the adventures that have happened on the way.

Writing: the long and short of it

Why do I do it? Good question. Maybe it's not so much that I like to write but that I have to write, even when the words refuse to stick to the page. Believe me, I've tried doing other things like majoring in biochemistry (freshman fall, many semesters ago). Within a year, I'd switched to English with a concentration in creative writing and wasn't looking back.

After graduating, I taught English for a few years and then worked as an editor, which I still do freelance. In 2007, I applied and got into an MFA program at a place I like to call Little U. on the Prairie. I finished my degree in 2011 and have been balancing tutoring and writing on my own ever since.

The following links cover the writing I've done about writing: process, content, obstacles, you name it. It's not always pretty. But some part of me loves it, even when it's hard. And this is the result.

Heart: family and friends

I'd have a hard time explaining who I am without being able to talk about the family I grew up in as well as the people I've met beyond its bounds. But even with such context, it's not easy! In the simplest terms, I'm a first-generation Asian-American who has spent most of this life caught between cultures. That, of course, doesn't even begin to describe what I mean to, but there's my first stab at the heart of it all.

That's what this group of posts is reserved for -- heart. The essential parts of my life whose influences I carry with me, for better or worse. The links below cover what I've written as I've learned how these forces work within me, for me, against me, in spite of me. They anchor me even as they change me, and they keep life interesting.

Recommended reading

What do I do when there's too much on my mind and my words won't stick to the page? I escape into someone else's thoughts. Below is a collection of books and articles that have been sources of information, inspiration, and occasional insight for my own work.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

The waiting game

Three days until D's here for another weekend. Hard to believe that it's been nearly three weeks since his last visit -- keeping busy has its perks, I guess.

I'm also waiting to hear back on some bloodwork I had done two weeks ago. Either teaching is the next fad diet or I'm shrinking for other reasons. Since coming back to Little U. on the Prairie, I've lost enough weight to make at least one pair of pants too loose to go without a belt and one skirt too dangerous to wear, period (would make class too interesting if that were to fall down in the middle of discussion). If it's just the demands of teaching -- and it's possible since this happened to me in New York too, though not to this degree -- then next semester will require a wholesale wardrobe change. I'll be teaching two sections instead of one. Yikes.

But yes, some answers from my local M.D. would be much appreciated. He's the old-school sort who has practiced privately in these parts for decades and has a staff of two (nurse, receptionist). So he processes all of his patients personally -- but also more slowly.

Sigh.

In other news, D has been playing around with our camera lately, and a few experiments have produced some pretty pictures. Here's one I especially love (downtown Seattle at sunset from the top of a skyscraper on the Eastside as the city lights are just beginning to come on). The space on the blog doesn't do it justice, but if you click on it, you can see it in a larger format:


Coincidentally, while reading W.G. Sebald's The Rings of Saturn for one of my classes this week, I came across a lovely passage that seemed written for that image. As translated from German by Michael Hulse, Sebald writes,
Combustion is the hidden principle behind every artefact we create. The making of a fish-hook, manufacture of a china cup, or production of a television programme, all depend on the same process of combustion. Like our bodies and like our desires, the machines we have devised are possessed of a heart which is slowly reduced to embers. From the earliest times, human civilization has been no more than a strange luminescence growing more intense by the hour, of which no one can say when it will begin to wane and when it will fade away. For the time being, our cities still shine through the night ...
I get shivers thinking about that, the ephemerality of it all. And yet, because time is so elastic, our moment in which we sputter into existence and then back out again stretches beyond our field of vision. We are sparks in slow-motion, blinded by our own flame.

I guess it's nice that we get to have such a concept as "tomorrow."

Saturday, September 20, 2008

On growth

The weekend, at last. It was so good to sleep in and not have to rush around this morning. I took quite a schedule-beating over the last few days -- but it was worth it to get my students situated well for the next few weeks.

Office hours were very good. Everyone came in with interesting paper ideas, and helping people narrow down the things they wanted to focus on in their analyses from the get-go felt rewarding. This will hopefully prevent eleventh-hour panic and students' turning in shoddy work. People seemed appreciative too of the individual time to check in with me, and I got to have some one-on-one conversations with students who are shyer in front of the class. All in all, a good investment of time.

It is such a surprise to me how different this teaching experience has been so far at Little U. on the Prairie, compared to my last stint in New York. Of course, I'm teaching a totally different age group, but I think it's also got something to do with just having had those extra two years under my belt. It gives me some kind of reassurance that I know what I'm doing (at least, with the basics of classroom management, lesson planning, grading, etc.). And that makes a difference in how comfortable I feel in front of my students -- the end result being that I'm more relaxed and therefore more approachable when students need help.

All this is to say that I think I really want to make this some part of my career when I get done here. I never thought I would say that or know that with any amount of conviction, but I think my last year here (writing without teaching) contrasted with just these first few weeks back on campus (writing and teaching) has made it clear to me: teaching is where I'm happier using my creativity. It doesn't mean I won't keep on writing. It just means that I don't want to be on a career path that requires me to pump stuff out for the sake of having publications. I'd rather write when the desire seizes me and channel most of my energy into the classroom. I get such a high from having a class go well, watching students respond to something I've designed to help them engage with what we're studying. It's a first for me. I almost can't believe I'm saying that, after so many years of not knowing what would fulfill me, but this is it. This is what makes me happy. Or at least, it's the beginning of something toward that end.

D finally sent me a picture of our irises, which we intend to plant in the ground when we get our first house. Right now, they're thriving in their pots. Here's a shot from the week I left for school (mid-August):


And here's how tall they are now:


Ah, May. It won't be here for a while, but it's so much closer than it was last year. I can almost taste it.

Friday, September 12, 2008

This is how I feel


Well, not exactly, but the picture was too funny not to post, and I do feel like bunches of things have suddenly dropped on me in the last week. Namely deadlines, some self-imposed.

This shot was actually taken over Labor Day weekend -- D took a solo trip to the Olympic Peninsula to check out some hiking trails, and he came across these three crabs on the Dungeness Spit, which is part of a national wildlife reserve. These guys are no longer alive, but it looks like they are (at least, the ones that are still intact). Poor things, I think they're shell-shocked from the sight of their friend ... sorry, couldn't resist. But don't they look appalled?


The hike along the spit is about five miles on nothing but beach. Beautiful, but tough going on the legs, says D. At the end of the spit is a lighthouse that looks out over the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Quite a nice summer retreat! If you apply to be a keeper, you can apparently stay there for a week for very cheap. The high season for tourism seems to be July and August, so finding a place for D to stay wasn't easy (and at the last minute -- he called me and said he wanted to check out more of the area if a room was available for a reasonable price). After some Googling, I located a hostel not too far away while D was driving back toward the ferry to Seattle. Oh, the benefits of cell phones and the internet ...


This is going to be a heavy writing weekend, so I'd best get to it. Next week, my students will be meeting with me to discuss their plans for their first formal paper, so I'll be extra short on time. I'm really enjoying how well lessons are going -- a first after my two years of teaching middle school -- but I wish I didn't feel so completely exhausted!

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

What is this "work-life balance" you speak of?

I know, I know, I've been a little quiet over here. Chalk it up to trying to figure out how to juggle being a teacher and student at the same time. Forget being a plain old citizen of the human race ...

Things sort of picked up rather rapidly after Labor Day, and D came to visit this past weekend. Less than optimal combination. But such is life -- D and I have learned just to work around my work. Sometimes I let things slide a little on my end, as I did this time, or we just treat the days together as if they're not going to run out any time soon (and I do what I have to do while he hangs out). That takes the pressure off most of the time. We learned last year that trying to use up every waking minute doing special things isn't realistic and that having a relaxed, "normal" weekend together is rejuvenating in itself.

Okay, so I do have some work-life balance.

But in terms of getting my own work done vs. getting work done for teaching, the teaching is winning out way more often. It's paying off in the classroom -- discussions and activities have gone really well -- but my writing has been sorely neglected. And my first workshop piece is due in a little over a week ...

D and I took Saturday afternoon to take a little road trip to a local German heritage historic site, which was fun. We ate ourselves silly on Wienerschnitzel and looked at local arts and crafts. One of our stops was at the Wine, Cheese and Jelly Haus (yep, that's what was over the door), where you could find everything you needed for a picnic, including baskets. We restrained ourselves and only picked up a summer sausage and some strawberry-rhubarb jam (D's favorite).

We also stopped at a historic church that had been converted into a studio and gallery, and we got to meet the primary artist who works there. Our biggest find, however, was at another gallery. We came across some whimsical prints by an artist named Laura Lee Junge, whose style (per art critics) can be described as "surrealistic expressionism." There's definitely some Dali in there, but it's softer, I think. In any case, D and I both fell in love with the same painting, something that has never happened before since we tend to have different tastes. We took it as a sign -- now the piece is at my place, waiting to be framed. I believe we have the last one ever printed; it's marked 500/500. You like?


Well, I had hoped to post a longer update, but I'm getting pointed looks from Hamlet. More soon, I promise, as long as I don't lose more sleep -- I'm still waking up way before I'm supposed to, and I wouldn't be surprised if nightmares about Kenneth Branagh gone mad were to visit me tonight!

Monday, September 1, 2008

Sleepless

And not in Seattle.

I think that last wedding may have done some damage to my body clock because since getting back, I haven't been able to get my full forty winks at night. More like half that amount, followed by a lot of tossing and turning. For someone who was known to her college roommates as the girl who habitually got into bed and never moved again till morning, this is highly unusual.

We had a good time in New York -- I got in around 1 p.m. that Saturday and met up with my friends in Greenwich Village. We proceeded to talk our jaws off until D arrived in the late afternoon and then headed over to Bryant Park to ride the merry-go-round (why not?) and talk some more. Dinner followed at a random Chinese restaurant in Murray Hill (authentic, believe it or not!) and then more talking until D and I had to make a dash for the subway in order to catch our train from Penn Station to Long Island, where the wedding was going to take place the next day.

The ride was interesting, to say the least. There was construction on one section of the line that forced our particular train to divert to a station not normally on its run so that the tracks could be switched. Since it wasn't an official stop on the schedule, the train doors stayed closed. However, several large, loud guys in our car seemed to believe that it was a stop, and they started demanding that the conductor let them off. Demands led to threats about pulling the emergency brake, and then other patrons started getting involved, telling them to stop making trouble. D and I hastily grabbed our suitcases and moved to another car when one of the passengers said something about using someone's head to bash open one of the windows.

Can't say I'm sorry I don't live there anymore ...

The ceremony and reception on Sunday were lovely. Sadly, we weren't able to stay much longer than the first two hours because we had to head back to the airport for our 5 p.m. flight. But we did get to congratulate the bride and groom and wish them well, which is what mattered most. We also got to witness what was probably the best unscripted promotion for Tide to Go that we will ever see. Dave, one of our friends at the wedding, got attacked by a plate of pasta during cocktail hour, and within seconds, a sonsy middle-aged woman had the stain-removing pen out of her purse. "Here, sweetie, I've got Tide to Go!" she said, handing it to him before he had even registered what was happening.

Her husband patted his ample gut and winked. "You got one of these, you need one of those," he said, gesturing with his loaded hors d'oeuvres plate, which really did seem ready to drip spring roll sauce onto his belly. "This is what you learn after 25 years of marriage!" (all of the above spoken with an especially thick Long Island accent).

Needless to say, Dave was quite grateful -- as was his fiancée of three days. Yes, that's a wedding for next summer that we can already count on! Exciting news. Hopefully the travel will be less hectic and our visit will be longer.


The first week of class finished well, despite Monday's rustiness. My Wednesday class went beautifully -- my students are quite willing to engage in discussion! -- and my own seminars look like they're going to be interesting and helpful for my writing. Tomorrow, I'm meeting with a professor in my minor to figure out how to do independent study in her department so I can finish my requirements there. With luck, I can get that done this year and not have to deal with it while working on my thesis.

News on the home front: The owners of the house we love have dropped their price a little more! But again, not enough. Definitely nervous that someone else may put in a bid, but if it happens, so be it. Our time will come. Our realtor has pretty much figured out that we like the place -- she sent us an article about rising mortgage rates a few weeks ago to encourage us not to stall just to see if prices would come down further in the market at large -- but we're sitting tight. Hopefully the house will too until we're ready.

I got way less done this weekend than I wanted to, especially in planning my unit on Hamlet, but it's time for bed. To sleep, perchance to dream ... oh heck, just give me sleep and I'll be thrilled.

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Tuesday, September 23, 2008

The waiting game

Three days until D's here for another weekend. Hard to believe that it's been nearly three weeks since his last visit -- keeping busy has its perks, I guess.

I'm also waiting to hear back on some bloodwork I had done two weeks ago. Either teaching is the next fad diet or I'm shrinking for other reasons. Since coming back to Little U. on the Prairie, I've lost enough weight to make at least one pair of pants too loose to go without a belt and one skirt too dangerous to wear, period (would make class too interesting if that were to fall down in the middle of discussion). If it's just the demands of teaching -- and it's possible since this happened to me in New York too, though not to this degree -- then next semester will require a wholesale wardrobe change. I'll be teaching two sections instead of one. Yikes.

But yes, some answers from my local M.D. would be much appreciated. He's the old-school sort who has practiced privately in these parts for decades and has a staff of two (nurse, receptionist). So he processes all of his patients personally -- but also more slowly.

Sigh.

In other news, D has been playing around with our camera lately, and a few experiments have produced some pretty pictures. Here's one I especially love (downtown Seattle at sunset from the top of a skyscraper on the Eastside as the city lights are just beginning to come on). The space on the blog doesn't do it justice, but if you click on it, you can see it in a larger format:


Coincidentally, while reading W.G. Sebald's The Rings of Saturn for one of my classes this week, I came across a lovely passage that seemed written for that image. As translated from German by Michael Hulse, Sebald writes,
Combustion is the hidden principle behind every artefact we create. The making of a fish-hook, manufacture of a china cup, or production of a television programme, all depend on the same process of combustion. Like our bodies and like our desires, the machines we have devised are possessed of a heart which is slowly reduced to embers. From the earliest times, human civilization has been no more than a strange luminescence growing more intense by the hour, of which no one can say when it will begin to wane and when it will fade away. For the time being, our cities still shine through the night ...
I get shivers thinking about that, the ephemerality of it all. And yet, because time is so elastic, our moment in which we sputter into existence and then back out again stretches beyond our field of vision. We are sparks in slow-motion, blinded by our own flame.

I guess it's nice that we get to have such a concept as "tomorrow."

Saturday, September 20, 2008

On growth

The weekend, at last. It was so good to sleep in and not have to rush around this morning. I took quite a schedule-beating over the last few days -- but it was worth it to get my students situated well for the next few weeks.

Office hours were very good. Everyone came in with interesting paper ideas, and helping people narrow down the things they wanted to focus on in their analyses from the get-go felt rewarding. This will hopefully prevent eleventh-hour panic and students' turning in shoddy work. People seemed appreciative too of the individual time to check in with me, and I got to have some one-on-one conversations with students who are shyer in front of the class. All in all, a good investment of time.

It is such a surprise to me how different this teaching experience has been so far at Little U. on the Prairie, compared to my last stint in New York. Of course, I'm teaching a totally different age group, but I think it's also got something to do with just having had those extra two years under my belt. It gives me some kind of reassurance that I know what I'm doing (at least, with the basics of classroom management, lesson planning, grading, etc.). And that makes a difference in how comfortable I feel in front of my students -- the end result being that I'm more relaxed and therefore more approachable when students need help.

All this is to say that I think I really want to make this some part of my career when I get done here. I never thought I would say that or know that with any amount of conviction, but I think my last year here (writing without teaching) contrasted with just these first few weeks back on campus (writing and teaching) has made it clear to me: teaching is where I'm happier using my creativity. It doesn't mean I won't keep on writing. It just means that I don't want to be on a career path that requires me to pump stuff out for the sake of having publications. I'd rather write when the desire seizes me and channel most of my energy into the classroom. I get such a high from having a class go well, watching students respond to something I've designed to help them engage with what we're studying. It's a first for me. I almost can't believe I'm saying that, after so many years of not knowing what would fulfill me, but this is it. This is what makes me happy. Or at least, it's the beginning of something toward that end.

D finally sent me a picture of our irises, which we intend to plant in the ground when we get our first house. Right now, they're thriving in their pots. Here's a shot from the week I left for school (mid-August):


And here's how tall they are now:


Ah, May. It won't be here for a while, but it's so much closer than it was last year. I can almost taste it.

Friday, September 12, 2008

This is how I feel


Well, not exactly, but the picture was too funny not to post, and I do feel like bunches of things have suddenly dropped on me in the last week. Namely deadlines, some self-imposed.

This shot was actually taken over Labor Day weekend -- D took a solo trip to the Olympic Peninsula to check out some hiking trails, and he came across these three crabs on the Dungeness Spit, which is part of a national wildlife reserve. These guys are no longer alive, but it looks like they are (at least, the ones that are still intact). Poor things, I think they're shell-shocked from the sight of their friend ... sorry, couldn't resist. But don't they look appalled?


The hike along the spit is about five miles on nothing but beach. Beautiful, but tough going on the legs, says D. At the end of the spit is a lighthouse that looks out over the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Quite a nice summer retreat! If you apply to be a keeper, you can apparently stay there for a week for very cheap. The high season for tourism seems to be July and August, so finding a place for D to stay wasn't easy (and at the last minute -- he called me and said he wanted to check out more of the area if a room was available for a reasonable price). After some Googling, I located a hostel not too far away while D was driving back toward the ferry to Seattle. Oh, the benefits of cell phones and the internet ...


This is going to be a heavy writing weekend, so I'd best get to it. Next week, my students will be meeting with me to discuss their plans for their first formal paper, so I'll be extra short on time. I'm really enjoying how well lessons are going -- a first after my two years of teaching middle school -- but I wish I didn't feel so completely exhausted!

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

What is this "work-life balance" you speak of?

I know, I know, I've been a little quiet over here. Chalk it up to trying to figure out how to juggle being a teacher and student at the same time. Forget being a plain old citizen of the human race ...

Things sort of picked up rather rapidly after Labor Day, and D came to visit this past weekend. Less than optimal combination. But such is life -- D and I have learned just to work around my work. Sometimes I let things slide a little on my end, as I did this time, or we just treat the days together as if they're not going to run out any time soon (and I do what I have to do while he hangs out). That takes the pressure off most of the time. We learned last year that trying to use up every waking minute doing special things isn't realistic and that having a relaxed, "normal" weekend together is rejuvenating in itself.

Okay, so I do have some work-life balance.

But in terms of getting my own work done vs. getting work done for teaching, the teaching is winning out way more often. It's paying off in the classroom -- discussions and activities have gone really well -- but my writing has been sorely neglected. And my first workshop piece is due in a little over a week ...

D and I took Saturday afternoon to take a little road trip to a local German heritage historic site, which was fun. We ate ourselves silly on Wienerschnitzel and looked at local arts and crafts. One of our stops was at the Wine, Cheese and Jelly Haus (yep, that's what was over the door), where you could find everything you needed for a picnic, including baskets. We restrained ourselves and only picked up a summer sausage and some strawberry-rhubarb jam (D's favorite).

We also stopped at a historic church that had been converted into a studio and gallery, and we got to meet the primary artist who works there. Our biggest find, however, was at another gallery. We came across some whimsical prints by an artist named Laura Lee Junge, whose style (per art critics) can be described as "surrealistic expressionism." There's definitely some Dali in there, but it's softer, I think. In any case, D and I both fell in love with the same painting, something that has never happened before since we tend to have different tastes. We took it as a sign -- now the piece is at my place, waiting to be framed. I believe we have the last one ever printed; it's marked 500/500. You like?


Well, I had hoped to post a longer update, but I'm getting pointed looks from Hamlet. More soon, I promise, as long as I don't lose more sleep -- I'm still waking up way before I'm supposed to, and I wouldn't be surprised if nightmares about Kenneth Branagh gone mad were to visit me tonight!

Monday, September 1, 2008

Sleepless

And not in Seattle.

I think that last wedding may have done some damage to my body clock because since getting back, I haven't been able to get my full forty winks at night. More like half that amount, followed by a lot of tossing and turning. For someone who was known to her college roommates as the girl who habitually got into bed and never moved again till morning, this is highly unusual.

We had a good time in New York -- I got in around 1 p.m. that Saturday and met up with my friends in Greenwich Village. We proceeded to talk our jaws off until D arrived in the late afternoon and then headed over to Bryant Park to ride the merry-go-round (why not?) and talk some more. Dinner followed at a random Chinese restaurant in Murray Hill (authentic, believe it or not!) and then more talking until D and I had to make a dash for the subway in order to catch our train from Penn Station to Long Island, where the wedding was going to take place the next day.

The ride was interesting, to say the least. There was construction on one section of the line that forced our particular train to divert to a station not normally on its run so that the tracks could be switched. Since it wasn't an official stop on the schedule, the train doors stayed closed. However, several large, loud guys in our car seemed to believe that it was a stop, and they started demanding that the conductor let them off. Demands led to threats about pulling the emergency brake, and then other patrons started getting involved, telling them to stop making trouble. D and I hastily grabbed our suitcases and moved to another car when one of the passengers said something about using someone's head to bash open one of the windows.

Can't say I'm sorry I don't live there anymore ...

The ceremony and reception on Sunday were lovely. Sadly, we weren't able to stay much longer than the first two hours because we had to head back to the airport for our 5 p.m. flight. But we did get to congratulate the bride and groom and wish them well, which is what mattered most. We also got to witness what was probably the best unscripted promotion for Tide to Go that we will ever see. Dave, one of our friends at the wedding, got attacked by a plate of pasta during cocktail hour, and within seconds, a sonsy middle-aged woman had the stain-removing pen out of her purse. "Here, sweetie, I've got Tide to Go!" she said, handing it to him before he had even registered what was happening.

Her husband patted his ample gut and winked. "You got one of these, you need one of those," he said, gesturing with his loaded hors d'oeuvres plate, which really did seem ready to drip spring roll sauce onto his belly. "This is what you learn after 25 years of marriage!" (all of the above spoken with an especially thick Long Island accent).

Needless to say, Dave was quite grateful -- as was his fiancée of three days. Yes, that's a wedding for next summer that we can already count on! Exciting news. Hopefully the travel will be less hectic and our visit will be longer.


The first week of class finished well, despite Monday's rustiness. My Wednesday class went beautifully -- my students are quite willing to engage in discussion! -- and my own seminars look like they're going to be interesting and helpful for my writing. Tomorrow, I'm meeting with a professor in my minor to figure out how to do independent study in her department so I can finish my requirements there. With luck, I can get that done this year and not have to deal with it while working on my thesis.

News on the home front: The owners of the house we love have dropped their price a little more! But again, not enough. Definitely nervous that someone else may put in a bid, but if it happens, so be it. Our time will come. Our realtor has pretty much figured out that we like the place -- she sent us an article about rising mortgage rates a few weeks ago to encourage us not to stall just to see if prices would come down further in the market at large -- but we're sitting tight. Hopefully the house will too until we're ready.

I got way less done this weekend than I wanted to, especially in planning my unit on Hamlet, but it's time for bed. To sleep, perchance to dream ... oh heck, just give me sleep and I'll be thrilled.