gluttony (a noun)

I love to bitch. Who doesn't? I try to avoid it as much as humanly possible, so as to withold my public graces and remain politically correct to some sort of extent, but there comes a time where a person like me simply needs to blow down the walls and relinquish. So, lucky for you, today's the day. What you are about to read are my blatant and unfiltered thoughts on a certain matter which has been haunting me discursively throughout the duration of this week... needless to say, I am probably going to offend a few people here and there. My apologies. Right. Well, here i go.

I. Hate. Fucking. Gluttons. I hate them. Nothing perverses me more than a person who only knows one way of life, that being the lifestyle of excessive fulfillment. By definition (and I quote dictionary.com), they are marked as "exceedingly voracious". These are the people who never seem to be satisfied with what they are given, namely when it comes to food. Oh yeah, food gluttons are the worst. I'm talking about those assholes that you find yourself to be stuck with, usually not by choice, that begin to mark their gluttony by declaring that they're hungry right after they just ate a substantial amount of food. As if they hadn't already mooched off of a good majority of your food in addition to theirs, they're still too damn hungry to contain themselves. So they demand you to find them food. You, being the benevolent person you are, get up and, in all reluctance, fetch them some damn food. They eat it, of course. All the while, you scratch your head and ponder just how they can manage to force that many calories into their body. Then they begin to question you about the next meal. And the next one. And the next one.
My favorite part is when you ask them who, exactly, is to pay for all this glorious and apparently much-needed food. Knowing that you are, at this point, dealing with a well-taught glutton, their greedy little fingers will be pointing at you. But mark my words, it can only get worse from here. By now, you will begin to notice that this person is exceptionally unfiltered and generally ignorant. They will openly and excessively voice their opinion on shallow matters such as the weather, their boredom, the view from the nearest window... and quite possibly your haircut. Of course, the only way to satiate their constant nagging is to satisfy one of their many gluttonous desires. Probably a food of some sort. If not, then it's bound to be some sort of material item that is of high value and little necessity, such as a body spray or a cell phone case. Or they'll demand to borrow your shit, because it's that much better when it belongs to you. Whatever the case may be, a glutton is always characterized by a gaping hole of desire that only grows larger and more insatiable with each incrament of time which you have the misfortune to spend with them.
Gluttons and their gluttonous behavior are usually co-characterized by generally assinine behavior, namely constant critiquing. They just loveeeeee to rip you the fuck apart. They will be the first to remind you that your shirt is on inside-out, or that you forgot to remove the tag from your ass pocket, or that you've put on a pound or two (needless to say, you could easily remind them of the food baby sitting in their stomach, courtesy of you and your wallet). They also expect a heaping round of compliments from you and everyone surrounding them. Because there's a whole lotta good to say about them, godchild that they are. This is the part where you are really resisting the urge to remind them that gluttony is a sin. Oh yeah. That shit's written in the bible. Bold faced, I'm sure.
Regardless, you know you want to punch them in the damn face by this point. But you don't. Because you know three things. The first is that, in the long run, your ass is going to look much better in your jeans than theirs... as long as genetics are not on her side as much as you aren't. The second is that you know in your heart that he or she is going to one day be spited. If that hasn't happened under their ignorant nose already. Thirdly, you just kind of like waiting for those moments when they really crash and burn, and you're right there to watch it. If that never happens, then hey- at least plans one and two more than likely fell though. With that being said, I hope that none of you ever have to devote more than about 3 solid hours with someone who falls into the category I have accurately established. Because I sure as hell did. It wasn't cute. But you know what is cute? Kitty kitties. That's pretty damn cute. Okay (pant pant)... I'm done. Over and out.

run run, rudolph

Dear kiddies,
So the holidays are vastly approaching... hell, they're already here. How else do you explain the alterations to Starbucks' drink menu, the eminating glow from every high-end suburban community you pass, and the stack of Chistmas carol sheet music lying atop my desk? Well anyways, I am not in my most intellectual state of mind at the moment, so I thought it best to take advantage of that and do a bit of pondering about the material world. Not that I'm expecting half of this shit, but it's still fun to make wishlists, right? Anyways, here goes...

1.) The Moog Little Phatty



what's more to say, other than it is unattainably divine?
sigh... a person can dream.








2.) a Nikon AF Macro lens (of any kind, really)














3.) these bad boys







4.) a new kitty kitty

yes, just like this one







5.) this sick-ass leotard (you know, for when I feel like prancing around)




6.) sibellius!


7.) a canvas and some paints


8.) some more records for the ol' crosley



9.) a round-trip ticket to India


10.) magical powers.

oh yeah... i'm talking black magic.


oh, and I almost forgot one very important thing...

THIS

(it definitely gives the snuggie a run for its money)


I hope that thoroughly left you bewildered. Happy holidays, my lovelies.

you can have whatever you like

Freedom is truly a commodity rather than an asset. You come to realize that in the best way possible when the source of your authority has all but lost complete respect for you. You learn to realize just how much you once valued that sacred mutualism you had established between yourself and your authority. Because you are never your own authority, no matter how much you would like to belive that to be true. In fact, unless you possessed the seven seas, an innate ability to communicate with felines, and the entire stock market, chances are some bastard would still have you wrapped around his golden little finger. But this is extranneous and beside the point. The point I am trying to make is that I have recently come to find that I took for granted all the years that my authority was on my side. Those were the days when I could make her a christmas card or a batch of cookies, bring home straight a's, and win a writing contest and receive that approving smile. For what it was worth I did not know until this point in my life. This is the point where her all-knowing authority coincides with what I believe to be humane, and they unfortunately do not agree on any level. I have made my choice. I chose to make my best attempt at defiance, which only led me to a place colder than the antarctic and more lifeless than a post-nuclear war zone. Yeah, it bites. Therefore, ladies and gentlemen, the point I am trying to get across is... be good. If good can even come close to being conceptualized.

An inquisitory essay on War of the Worlds

War of the Worlds is a prime example of how H.G. Wells is capable of portraying many different thematic elements in a small yet eloquent piece of writing. In any case, one of the most prominently explored themes in this given narrative is the theme of ‘lack of urgency when faced with something that does not pose an immediate threat’. This theme is most apparently represented in the book’s first few chapters, when the danger of the extraterrestrial creatures remains to be a potential threat rather than an actual one. This theme can be further exemplified as we observe the story’s events on a more detailed scale. Three key events that well embody this theme are the detection of odd activity on Mars’ surface, the landing of the first cylindrical martian pod, and the first emergence of the creatures from their pod.
We can initially begin to detect the theme in question from the very moment in the story when the narrator speaks of reports of unusual activity on Mars. As soon as chapter one does our unnamed narrator mention to us that his friend Dr. Ogilvy was aware of an eruption on the surface of Mars. Not only did a singular eruption occur on this planet’s distant surface, but this eruption was followed by nine other timely and subsequent eruptions of the exact same nature. Already, it would be natural of the reader to expect a panicked reaction of sorts from the general public in the story. This, however, was not the case. Hardly any feelings of disconcert were mentioned thus far, by the narrator or any other character alike.
Following this first example of the story’s theme of lack of urgency, the theme prevails yet again. As the story goes on, the danger finally makes its arrival on Earth as the first martian tripod graces a small town in England with its landing. As the narrator explains it, the people of this town are stricken with awe, curiosity and fascination. They even make a point to gather round the cylindrical object as close as possible to take in the sessile spectacle of it all. None of these reactions, however, come quite close to constituting any level of fear, let alone panic or distress. In turn, no precautionary actions have been made at this point in Wells’ story.
To further demonstrate the lack of urgency of the characters of War of the Worlds, we can look further yet into the story. Inevitably, the martian cylinder that landed in Woking didn’t remain intact for very long. Succeeding its arrival by a few timely days, the object’s top unscrewed from within and out came a group of monstrous and seemingly lethargic alien creatures. One would assume that the sight alone would be enough to instill terror among the witnesses. This was, again, not the case. Because these creatures seemed to be so lethargic and harmless, little precaution had been taken by any of the story’s characters. It was not until the martians did attack that any of the characters of any significance did show signs of distress.
In conclusion, the lack of urgency when faced with something that does not pose and immediate threat is a theme which Wells thoroughly exemplified in the novel. As we can see, there are countless occasions in which any of the characters could have detected the imminent threat posed by the strange activity on Mars or the presence of the creatures on Earth. Whether it may have been to achieve some sort of effect or to cryptically degrade the rational capabilities of human nature, this was one of many themes which H.G. Wells expertly included in his writing of War of the Worlds.

Back into the swing of things...

Hello to my beloved readers and adherents alike. Today was one which was regrettably uneventful- you know, the ones where you wake up, blink about three times while staring at the cieling and think "shit... I have absolutely nothing to do today". Or maybe that's just me. Either way, it has come to my subliminal attention that I have been neglecting my profound writing hobby, and thought it best to pick things back up again.
As it is more in my nature to be on the cryptic side when it comes to my writing, I'm going to be unusually blatant in this particular little piece and delve into my recent trip to the windy city. Ahh, Chicago. I like to call it one step below New York and one step above Milwaukee. Because Milwaukee really wasn't all that great. Anyways, it was just exquisite to escape the social deathtrap that is Orlando (even if it was only for the span of three days). Furthermore, the weather was phenomenally frigid in the great midwest (if you consider 30 degress "frigid").
So why was it, exactly, that my first weekend of the Thanksgiving holidays brought me up to Chicago, you may be wondering? Well rather than going into any further explanation, I may as well show you. Ob-serve...





As you can see, something was accomplished during that time. I would like to thank the lovely folks at Factor Women, and the photogapher by the name of Russ. I miss it all already. Anyhow, there is more to come seeing as these next six days or so are expected to be rather uneventful. Au revoir.

write me a novel, why dont you

My life is beautiful. It really is. I wake up at about four in the morning after a refreshing two hours of sleep, I throw together an eclectic outfit of sorts that always, by some miracle, gets complemented, and I go about my six hours of state-mandated education. This is beside the point though. What makes my life all the more beautiful are all the wonderfully sophisticated people who surround me. I hope you can tell that this story is taking a turn in the direction of acute sarcasm. Anyways, the best part of my life is when one of the many brilliant and innovative people who surround me decide to enlighten me upon how great their life is. Oh yes- there is nothing I enjoy more than listening to the incomparably thrilling night you had last night, of perhaps the weekend that you just spent completely innebriated throughout. I just love being reminded how cool you are, and taking comfort in the fact that my life will never come close to matching the excitement of yours. Really, I love it. Listening to how awesome someone's evening was gives me that same warm and fuzzy feeling you get when you go to seaworld and look through the glass at the impelling marine life before my eyes. You are truly the orca whale that I wish I could be. I can only hope that your glory may one day transcend into my lackluster life, because that's what really important to me.
Therefore, boys and girls, what have we learned today? Basically, after two hours of sleep, the last thing I want to hear about is the adventure you had last night. Chances are, you made up most of that shit. If you didn't, then even better- you probably should have been doing something less counterproductive to yourself and society. Please, go build a birdhouse or knit a potholder or something. Namely, save it for someone who has had a little more than two hours of sleep.

a little schmultz in your schmangle and this is how it goes

do you often times find yourself in social situations where you don't quite know how to compote yourself? do you sit at the dinner table, engulfed in a whirlwind of civillized small talk and get the feeling of being alone and lost in the world, like a lone, latin grizzly in the Andes? well fear not, o my children, for a solution hath come your way. below this eloquent introductory paragraph lies a well-thought-out list of questions to be asked at the dinner table. what was once a dinner for schucks is now a dinner gone a-muck... in the best way possible. so take a look. the pleasure is truly mine

1.) What are your views on the enron conspiracy?
2.) Raise your hand if you have ever been accused of witchcraft.
3.) If you had to pick one, would you rather have ebola or malaria?
4.) Would you marry Tom Cruise if you were an illegal alien and in desperate need of a citizenship by marriage?
5.) In all seriousness, would you agree that Gerard Butler is, for lack of a better term, "bangable" at any age (or any gender)?
6.) Do you think that members of the KKK secretly watch Tyler Perry films in their free time?
7.) Have you ever seen the sneezing panda video on youtube?
8.) Do you own any taxidermy pieces in your home?
9.) When was the last time you fell victim to a corprate scandal?
10.) Have you every thought about the fact that we are related to every person we sleep with in some way or another?
11.) Do you consider cockroaches to be demons in insect form?
12.) Would you ever partake in an underground cock fighting match?
13.) Do you prefer domestic american shorthair felines to persian ones?
14.) Do you believe in El Chupacabra?
15.) Have you ever spoken to the Virgen de Guadalupe (in any way)?
16.) Do you ever plan on getting vaccinated for malaria (it, too, can happen to you)?
17.) What do you personally favor, Legalism or Confucianism?
18.) Does your family have a history of heart disease?
19.) Sould catalonia be a country?
20.) Could you survive 24 hours in a room with episodes of "the nanny" being played back to back?

i hope that wasn't too unpolitically correct
and remember... ALWAYS stay on top of YOUR toes.

we are all fish in the sea

Those who say that we become more mature as we age... they're wrong. They're all wrong. We don't become wiser... reality simply becomes us. Think of reality as one massive fishing net, us being the fish.
When we are young, we are more aware of this net. We try to defy it, outsmart it, swim away from it. But either way, we can't help the fact that the current is pulling us in closer and closer until we can't see the netting anymore, yet we find ourselves trapped in it. We only realize that we are being pulled into a mental and emotional standard of sorts when we are young. And so we try to escape it.
When we are older, however, we have two choices- either to swim right into it, only to lose yourself to convention along with all the other fish in the sea... or to simply be lost in a vast and seldom populated ocean. An ocean where only the youngest and most foolish little guppies dare venture. In regards to love, we only see it for what it truly is when our minds are young, uncorrupt, untainted- hence why we don't feel it when we are younger. But when we are older, we become scared of swimming alone. We are afraid of what lies beyond the net. This is why we follow the other fish into the trap. Who is the fisherman, you may wonder? He... he is what will become of us once we have entered the net. The same outcome. The same fate. But I, as my own fish, want to see all that the ocean has to offer. I never want to swim into the net, nor do I want to swim alone. Love, therefore, is not the net. The net is what we as the fishies believe to be love. No... what love really is is wherever in the great vast ocean we feel scared and fascinated and adored by all that is around us. Where we feel we are alive.

once upon a time...

a young warrior in a far off land by the name of Chris Robinson informed me of a valuable piece of incentive. He told me that the prophecy instated that i was forsaken to write here an article about thy photography career that thou hast achieved. so here i am... telling you about how and why i got into photography (so.... yeah. no more questions asked. this should sum it all up, ladies and gents).
Let's start from base one- christmas 2009. this was the day that, low and behold, i was handed the golden sceptor, the mythical scroll... the nikon. d. five. thousand. from the moment this great and powerful piece of machinery was bestowed upon me, i set forth to do what its prescence implied me to do. that is to take pictures. i thus began to photograph everything in sight- my kitty kitty. the neighbor's kitty kitty. the neighborhood kitty kitties. my snuggie. there wasn't a single person place or thing in orlando that could avoid the all-seeing eye of me and my camera. together we were an unstoppable force. it was not until a few long months later that i realized there was more to photograohy than simply pointing, shooting, and adjusting the contrast to ridiculous extremities. oh no. what i had come to realize was that photography is an art, and like all arts, it must represent an idea. I then applied time, patience, cunning, inspiration, and above all, mood into my photographs. i would settle for nothing less than perfection. with each and every project, i realized that through photography, a story can be translated by way of one single image. it is up to i, as your faithful photographer, to make this story as beautiful and intricate as i possibly can. when all is said and done, i can rightfully sit back and show you how alas, my work has progressed. the evidence is before your very eyes...

BEFORE


AFTER


thank you, all

let's call it a ponzi scheme

we can organize the history of america's great economy throughout periods of exceptional con artistry and deceit. each of these particular events have made their way into history books, the big screen (gordon gekko ring a bell?), and into the minds of well-read wall streeters. if you don't happen to be a well-read wall streeter or 40 year old man who enjoys his evening CNN (or simply a curious cat such as myself) you may wonder what exactly is a ponzi scheme? well, to be quite frank, it is a simple stock market situation in which a large coperate enterprise convinces many other large corperate enterprises to invest with said company, only for the company to run away with all the money they just recieved in investments.
well that was easy. you could say that i just explained the typical scheming strategy of corperate america. its basically what happens when one is extremely bored and ravenous for more money.
but what happens when we compare financial fraud to reality. if you think about it, a ponzi scheme can be anything in life. one might be so daring as to call the world one big ass pozi scheme. you decide to put all your trust into one person you are very near and dear to, disclosing very exclusive information and high respect... and then they sell it to the world. or lets say you decide to keep all your spare change in one shitty and unsuceptible tin in your bedroom... only to discover that your sister found the loot and ran straight to the coinstar machine. precisely my point. everything is relative and follows a pattern, the ponzi scheme being one of these poatterns.
the moral of this story... i really don't know, to be honest. but i hope that my rather large vocabulary put you in awe. because isn't that every blogger's intent(with the exception of perez hilton)?

oh, incentive

You could call it a lack of interest. You could call it (as do most teenagers in America, I myself being guilty of this resortion) a.d.d.. you could perhaps call it an inability to stick to something once its been started. But I know for a fact that the reason I have not touched this blog in what feels like forever is because the world around me has simply sufficed. My human story has been exquisite as of late. Therefore, I do not feel the need to document my feelings and revelations in attempt to release some sort of passion or discover myself, so to speak. I have been particularly content. The company I have kept certainly has much to do with my pleasant predicament.
I have also found myself to be rather busy with ordeals that prioritize higher on my list than this here blog. For example, my summer reading will truly be the death of me. The human story is an extraordinary piece of literature, but a bleak and unpromising challenge for those who, like me, claim to have a.d.d. Therefore, AP world history class is already getting me down.
I have also been engulfed by the glory that is Ludwig van Beethoven (sonata pathetique, mvmt. 1 to b precise). Piano has become a close and comfortable friend to me recently (this including 2-5-1's and all that jazz).
And above all, placidity has become the friend to me that writing once was. Both make me feel a sort of creature comfort, but placidity is one that requires little effort of myself. It sort of just falls into place. Suffice to say, school is vastly approaching, and I am academically unprepared as can be. I do, however, long for the teeming walls of all that is Dr. Phillips highschool. For now, however, I must wait. Wait and work. And enjoy this newfound pleasure known as happiness. Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. Sianara.

we are not what you think we are, we are golden

we are told that the place we know first becomes us, and no matter how far from it we may roam, it always has its place in our heart. well, courtney lawrence... im sorry that that place for you has to be whorelando. but that's okay... WE MISSED YOU!
last night was brilliant in that i got to see my dear and lovely friend and eat at the very resturaunt that i would probably live, sleep, and give birth to my first child in (if you know me, i dont even have to mention that this place happens to be tijuana flats). not only this, but we also embarked on a very promising excursion to the dollar tree of metrowest (a very treacherous journey for a white girl, yes) and well... you can see the results yourself



and thats the way the cookie crumbles.
as to extend my perceptually pointless writings about life in all its calamities, i am pleased to inform the world that my chewbacca backpack buddy finally came in the mail. yes. i said it. i own a chewbacca backpack buddy.


PROOF


i would assume its safe to say that this right here basically makes me the riteous ruler of the dr. phillips hipsters. so independent (hopefully you detected the sarcasm in that statement). but nonetheless, it makes me happy as a clam.
on another note, i have suddenly taken a liking to all things that are orange blossom trail. who new obt had so much to offer for a white girl? sure, prostitutes and weed are good and all, but goodwill and lollicup... scha-wing! it could either be that i dont get out enough, but aside from obt, i have come across some rather exquisite public figures in the past few days. observe...


a real-life hipster turning the corner at IKEA


a prominent symbolism that we live in a MURICAH


and so much more. and so i rest my case that its the little things that bring us true happiness. but hey... it dont hurt to be a little prospective. so long as i keep running, new york and chicago remain on the horizon, regardless of how distant they may be.
and so the continuation of my summer reading commences...
sianara, flaw-ri-duh.

FOR MISS LAUREN MCKEE

happy... bitch?





love stephanie :)

it was all just technicolor

my my, it's been a fairly formidable amount of time that has passed since my last entry. my apologies. procrastination seems to get the best of me. but moving past the mundane formalities and big words and all, I am pleased to inform you that i finally fulfilled my dream of painting big-ass pictures on my bedroom walls. aside from a few mishappen endeavors and a rather large paint spill thanks to a miss stephanie dowling (hehe... bitch) i think it's safe to say that the process went rather well. this past week in general has been pretty solitary for my taste, but summer sometimes does that to you. in an attempt to sort through the highlights of my past few days... i had a lovely day in downtown with miss kelsey rudder, kari gardner, and mr. blake (the precise date of this adventure is obscure to me at the moment). i can also say with confidence that the past week has definitely been a week for photography.
observe...






suffice to say, i was pleased :)
and so now i sit in my newly painted and IKEA-furnished room (well... somewhat IKEA-furnished) and pet sir frankie... doing what I do best- procrastinatingggg (that would have sounded better in a sing-songy tone of voice). ah well. human story, let's get this show on the road. adios, muchachos.

the land of the free and the home of the brave

It is believed that the united states of america became free on the july the fourth, of a year that I care not to google at the moment just so I can sound more intelligent than I really am. While this is good and all, few of us dare to acknowledge this day as more than an excuse to kick back, pop open a heineken, and invite some cool cats, douchebags, and sluts to come to your place in their finest swimwear to get (for lack of a better word) "shwasted". Yes, I realize that independence day was yesterday, but I was too preoccupied to write about it when I should have, seeing as I was at the residency of the lovely nisa caban. To answer your impending, unasked questions however... no. I did not spend my day getting "shwasted" or tanning with douches or playing with fire. No, I chose to prance around with nisa neese and my four year old cousin in nothing but a bra and a tutu. And crawl through the neighborhood sewage system. And sweet jesus, was that fun or what. Many a photo was taken, and much was accomplished. I just thought I was entitled to share that, I being the owner of this internet property. That's the news for today, kids. Nothing more. I and my good cat sir frankie bid you a good evening.

people are strange

the doors wrote a song about it. and with every song comes reason, as i'm sure you all know. this is entirely true. mentality is a mystery, incredulous as it may be. life has very funny ways of proving this phenomena to you. it can be a pleasant sort of encounter, or it can just bite you in the ass. i happened to previoulsy encounter the latter (and in a large concentration, mind you)... and my my, how people have their way of showing their complexities. here's the way i look at it: why expend the time and energy that is deceit? the only thing it does is give you this brief sort of self gratification, possibly a shortcut to the door of acceptance. it can sometimes get you out of a rock and a hard place, presenting itself as a seemingly wonderful opporunity. but when deciet is the path you take, you're going to piss a lot more people off and (quite frankly) create a hell of a lot more rocks. the correlation i am trying to get at is to me an vaque as it is to those of you who are reading this. there for, i probably just confused a lot of people. forgive me for that. this is just yet another observation i have made in regards to the human mentality. in the form of a very inevitable situation that i, regretably, was too vacuous to acknowledge. nah... vacuous isnt quite the word to suffice... more along the lines of misguided. optomistic. either way, even the best things in life have their way of proving to be a pretty little package encasing a ton of bullshit. that's the news for today folks. im legendary anchorman ron burgendy. stay classy, san diego (please pardon my use of copyright infringement)

oh florida, you tease

So i wake up (relatively early, being that i took the zzz at around 2am last evening), groggy and mild mannered, but with a peculiar desire to go for a run. and so run i did. what i really loved about the whole ordeal though was florida and its oh-so-predictable weather. you look outside thinking "awesome. cloudy as ever. its gonna be just so damn fantastic"... but oh wait. humidity like a dishwasher, and my lungs and screaming. just goes to show you that florida likes to play games. its kind of comparable to the enron conspiracy... a pretty little package on the outsides, but a hellhole within. HA. funny, the corallations you stumble upon when you have down time. just thought i'd share that.

and so we begin...

why hello. as you can very clearly see, this post signifies the start of a little idea that came to this head of mine called a blog. my reason for commencing in the oh-so-indie pastime of blogging? Well... i'd give you a much more thorough and possibly snarky answer, but it's really just for kicks. if you can honestly tell me that the summer is a time when you are thoroughly entertained during the entirety of your days, then you are either a.) able to drive (unlike myself) b.) aiming toward valedictorian-ism c.) too socially involved for your own good or d.) a rich kid. Whichever way you choose to look at it though, boredom is an inevitable part of life. people choose to deal with it in various way, from what i have of human observances. while some turn their head from its impending gaze, as if its not even there, others stare it straight in the eye and defeat it with things like this. so here i am, typing away the words that float to this mind of mine. i apologize in advance for inconsistancy, obscurity, oddities, or general lack of focus, as these are very typical of my mentality. for those rare few of you who enjoy my mannerisms, this should be... familiar, to say the least. either way, welcome to a very unfamiliar place, ladies and gentlemen. you have now entered my thoughts.