bugsii

-Set a personal record-

This week’s challenge is to set a personal record.  This coming Sunday, I will be in Eugene, Oregon for a women’s half marathon.  My cousin, Beth, will be running with me (at least for a bit).  When I say personal record (the cool runner kids say PR), I mean to beat my best race time, which for a half marathon is 1:56:10.  This might be a long shot, but you never know, I could be having a really good day or that cool Pacific Northwest air could give me a boost of energy.  Who knows!?  So, I’m going for it.  But, I decided that I will have a back up plan.  My back up plan is to set a record for the most amount of fun had while running a half marathon.  I plan on bringing my camera and enjoying every minute of small town Oregon.  Don’t even try to say that this is a cop out.  It’s a little corny, I’ll give you that, but whether or not I hit that magic number, I. will. have. fun.  The kind of fun that only two people that have known each other FOREVER (seriously, since birth) can have.  Yay for rethinking a PR! 

Who’s with me?!  I guess just Beth, huh?

The angels said, ‘Mary, God gives you news of a Word from Him, whose name will be the Messiah, Jesus, son of Mary, who will be held in honour in this world and the next, who will be one of those brought near to God. He will speak to people in his infancy and in his adulthood.  He will be one of the righteous.’
-Qur’an 3:45-46

This week’s challenge was to “attend a vastly different religious service,” but what I ended up learning was that, this religion, that I thought would be so different, wasn’t really so different after all.

What I felt mostly this week, was hospitality, openness, and a sense that we are much more alike than we are unalike.  When I decided that this would be my challenge, I emailed a fellow student in my program at OSU to see if I might be able to attend a service with him.  He was so gracious, sending a detailed email suggesting a typical Friday service (or Jumu’ah, their weekly service) and a Sunday night dinner (or Iftar, breaking of the daily fast during Ramadan) followed by Sunday night prayers (or Taraweeh, nightly prayers said through Ramadan in which the entire Qur’an is recited).  He explained what each was called and what each was for and also solicited the aid of a female cousin to attend with me.  Before I even got to the mosque, they had answered several questions (Should I cover my head for Friday’s service?  Yes.) and made sure that I knew how to get there and that someone would be waiting for me.  I didn’t have any of the anxiety that I thought I might going to visit a new place, where I was an outsider, for the first time.

The mosque is in Dublin, a nice suburb northwest of Columbus, and I don’t know what I was expecting, but I didn’t expect a beautiful new mosque with two domes sitting in the middle of suburban Ohio.  There it was though.  I missed the entrance, so I ended up parking on a street in the neighborhood next to the mosque.  I found my friend, H (I’m not sure if he or his cousin want me to use their names, so I won’t for now), without much of a problem and he escorted me in.  His cousin, M, was running a bit late, so he showed me where to go and I headed up to the women’s section to take a seat.  See, in a mosque the women are separated from the men.  Part of the reason for this is modesty during the physical prayer where you bend over multiple times and part is because women are not obligated to go to the Friday service because of childcare responsibilities.  So, I was headed to a room upstairs that was overlooking the area where the men and the man giving the sermon were.  When I got there, I took off my shoes and put them in the cubbies outside.  As I was taking off my shoes, there was an African woman there with me.  It seemed that it was her first time in this mosque because she had asked my friend where to go and we both were trying to figure out which room to sit in (there were a few upstairs).  She acted like she wasn’t surprised to see me at all.  In fact, she acted like I should know the answers to her questions.  This surprised me.  When I got in to the sanctuary (I’m not sure if that’s the right word), I sat in the back of about two rows of women and I thought this relatively small turnout would be it.  But, it was funny because just like Catholic church, lots of people were late.  And, just like Catholic church, lots of babies were crying.  One cell phone even went off and made everyone turn and give a look.  I don’t know why I thought this was somewhat comforting.  It just made the whole experience feel “normal,” like something I could relate to, something very regular and human.  And what also struck me was that no one was staring at me like I thought they might.  I didn’t feel like anyone was wondering what the heck I was doing there.  I think that if a woman in a scarf came into a Catholic church, she might get some stares, and I was curious why I wasn’t.

The service went on, a man preached about giving money to the poor, fasting, asking for forgiveness, being a good person and other things I think are standard in a religious service.  I had a hard time following at times because once in a while verses or words in Arabic would be used and I didn’t understand (obviously).  When M arrived, she filled me in a bit.  But as I listened, I looked around at all of the women and all of the different scarves and different ways of wearing scarves.  And, it wasn’t just the diversity of the scarves and the styles that struck me, but the diversity of the women themselves.  There were women of every color, black, white, and every shade in between.  A blonde child pranced around behind her mother.  Later, both my friend and his cousin would explain that Islam is truly a global religion.  I believe it.

When the sermon ended, it was time for prayer.  The women lined up in straight lines, while I moved the the back (accompanied by a few other women; I wasn’t the only one not participating).  These are the prayers that I’ve seen on television numerous time.  There’s a lot of standing, prostrating, and more Arabic that I didn’t understand.  Later, I was informed that this type of prayer is called Salah and is different from supplication prayer or the prayer that Christians are more used to, a talking to God.  Salah is this specific ritual act of communicating with God.  This is how wikipedia explains it:

The chief purpose of prayer in Islam is to act as a person’s communication with God. By reciting “The Opening”, the first chapter of the Qur’an, as required in all prayer, the worshipper can stand before God, thank and praise Him, and to ask for guidance along the Straight Path.

So, here are the words that Muslims say during Salah (which is also the first chapter of the Qur’an):

In the name of God, the Lord of Mercy, the Giver, of Mercy!
Praise belongs to God, Lord of the Worlds, the Lord of Mercy, the Giver of Mercy, Master of the Day of Judgement.  It is You we worship; it is You we ask for help.  Guide us to the straight path: the path of those You have blessed, those who incur no anger and who have not gone astray.

Of course, this is an English translation and the true meaning can only be in the original language, Arabic, so I’m sure there’s a little something lost in our Germanic clunkiness.

Salah

The women said their prayers and when they were finished, M and I began to leave.  On our way out, we were stopped by many of her friends and family members, each would embrace and give her a kiss on both cheeks.  There were lots of smiles and they were all just as friendly with me.  Then, M realized that there was going to be a funeral prayer because a member of the congregation (again, not sure if that’s the right word) had passed away.  “You’ll want to stay for this,” she said.  To me, it looked rather similar to Salah, as M expected.  There’s a nuanced difference.  After the funeral prayer, and as I was standing and waiting for M to finish up a spirited conversation with a particularly upbeat girl, a woman came up to me to explain that during the funeral prayer they say one prayer for the dead and one to God (if I’m remembering that right).  She seemed very comfortable with me and I just nodded and smiled, not sure what to say.

After the sanctuary had cleared, M took me on a tour of the mosque, starting with the upstairs washroom.  In Islam there is something called ablution, which is a ritual cleansing before prayer.  They don’t pray until they have gone through quite an intense cleansing of their hands, head, and feet.  When I think about the communal holy water and the communal wine glass at Catholic church, I think this might be a good idea.  We then ran back into the lady that had talked to me about the funeral prayer.  It turns out that she is M’s aunt and she thought I was muslim (I told you no one was staring).  She told this to M in Arabic and laughed a little.  M then took me downstairs and showed me the rooms that are for meetings and youth group, the main area where the men worship, and even the mosque basement, which is very much like every church basement I’ve ever seen (linoleum floors, classroom spaces, a big area with tables and chairs for meals, etc.).  We also met back up with H and saw a few more things, including a small outdoor amphitheater.  I asked the obligatory dumb questions like “Are you always hot?” (No), “Just how much do you have to cover up?” (scarf, long sleeves, long pants/skirt and it should all be loose) and “Did Muhammed write the Qur’an?” (Not exactly).  I also received a free English translation of the Qur’an (probably as a result of that last comment).  Did you know that Jesus is mentioned in the Qur’an more than Muhammed?  I had no idea.  So, I learned that Muslims believe that the Qur’an is the word of God that was spoken to Muhammed through the Angel Gabriel.  And it’s really very different from the Bible; not so much a linear history, but a series of lessons with stories of the prophets intermingled (to make the point of the lesson).  Muslims believe that there were several prophets that included Moses, Jesus (and several other old and new testament prophets), but that the final prophet was Muhammed.  This was all news to me and it makes me wonder why, when all three of the Abrahamic religions (Judaism, Christianity and Islam) are so interwoven, that we can’t get along a little better.  Ignorance might be the answer.

I bid farewell to M and H until Sunday night’s dinner.

Me and M

In the holy month of Ramadan, Muslims fast from sun up to sun down every single day.  This is very unfortunate (at least in my hungry opinion) when Ramadan happens to fall on these long summer days.  Muslims eat something before the sun comes up, which is very early right now, and then wait until the sun goes down before breaking fast (This includes water!).  I ate a late breakfast with my family this morning, and then I decided that, since I would be breaking the fast with my Muslim friends tonight, I should probably not eat anything until then (It just didn’t seem right to come to the huge fast-breaking meal already full and content, you know?).  So, I started to get hungry around three, and when it was finally time to break the fast, I was starved!  And I allowed myself to have some iced tea during the day!  Muslims treat Ramadan as a time of reflection, as one guy that gave a presentation tonight before dinner said, as a time to stop being “automatons.”  In daily life, it is so easy to fall into your automatic behaviors without thought, especially the one where you mindlessly visit the fridge over and over.  Ramadan, is a chance to pay attention to your routines, in order to be closer to God.  This sounds very much like what I am trying to do with these challenges… to pay attention, to stay awake and to better myself even if just bit by bit.

So, when I got to the dinner tonight, I was met by H once again.  He walked me in.  I was given a gift basket (And now I have two copies of the Qur’an!  Any takers?) and then a bunch of people were all filing into a room to hear some speakers.  First up, was the leader of a mosque.  Then, the pastor from a Presbyterian church.  Then, a (female) rabbi, and finally some closing words from a member of this mosque (basic history of Islam) and the director of this mosque (who gave his opinion on the ground zero mosque; he thinks other options should be considered if there is going to be discord over it.  I disagree, but it’s a nice thing to say.).  Most of what these speakers talked about had to do with the importance of people of different faiths coming together to benefit the community.  Who benefits when all of these faith communities remain isolated?  Together, more good can be done and understanding one another makes for a more peaceful world.

After the speakers were finished, a tour of the mosque was given.  Since I had already had a special personal tour on Friday, H and I went downstairs, chatted, and got prime seats so that we (okay, I) could be first in line to get food.  There was a beautiful spread provided by Lavash (a Mediterranean restaurant that I had meaning to get around to… lucky me, right?).  And on each nicely decorated table were a plate of dates and a small bottle of water, which is typically used to initially break the fast.  When it was time to eat that date and water (8:09pm to be exact), I was having hunger pains.  (I just want to remind my regular readers that I fasted once before, but I allowed myself juice and broth and it wasn’t bad at all.  No calories for 9 hours was very hard to do, and I even cheated and had iced tea… Can you imagine no water or food for more than 12 hours every day for 30 days?  Wow.)  Anyway, that date was delicious and then I hopped in line just after all of the kids (I have no shame when it comes to food) and got a heaping plate of hummus, baba gannouj, tabbouli, potato salad, greek salad, okra, rice, bread and lentil soup.  Check me out:

Come to bugsii.

And for dessert, baklava!  And a little more baba, tabbouli and bread… (sheepish grin).  Everything was delicious and I was also able to sit around and chat with H for a long while about Islam.  There’s just too much to share.  I mean, what would you say if someone asked you to explain Christianity over dinner… sort of impossible, right?  But, I feel like I’m starting to get a handle on a peaceful, intellectual religion that would really appreciate being understood and accepted so that it could stop having to explain over and over why they are not terrorists or misogynists.  I hope I’m doing my own tiny part with this blog post.  I also had a chat with a nice Presbyterian pre-school teacher and her husband who were invited by her co-teacher (who is Muslim).  The crowd at the dinner was amazing.  There were priests, nuns, rabbis, ministers, and a bunch of different lay people of various ethnicities, Muslim and non-Muslim alike.  When I ran into M, who was rushing around with a camera interviewing people (she eventually got a hold of me too), I told her, “Everyone needs to come to this!”  She said, “I know, right?”

As the evening prayers began, I said goodbye to H and M and headed out.  The main sanctuary was bursting with people gathering for Taraweeh and the parking lot was packed.  It was 10pm.  I got in the car, scarf still on my head.  Eminem’s new song came on the radio and I felt like an anachronism; white Catholic girl in a scarf leaving a mosque that was hosting an interfaith dinner, singing along to trashy pop rap.  Now this is an America I can be proud of.

The past two days have been kinda full.  Yesterday I was stuck at home because Dan was in Cincinnati again working on joysticks.  I worked on revising my exams and getting them in a final draft before getting to the work of figuring out how much it was going to cost to print those suckers.  After much too much work in that department, it turns out that our print shop on campus, Uniprint, had the best deal.  $75 for five copies of bound 124-page booklets.  I’m okay with that.

Today, I got up a little late, bought my ticket to Denver for the AESA conference (so excited about that) and got ready to run some errands.  First, I went to drop of and get a few books from the library.  Then, I stopped by campus to drop of my “Notice of Candidacy Examination” form.  That made me feel nervous even though I’m still waiting until October to defend.  It’s just… very official, you know?  After that, I attended my first service at a mosque as part of my “challenge” this week.  I am dying to write about it, but I am going to wait until Sunday when I get to go to an interfaith dinner and evening prayers (I’ll write one long post about the whole experience, which I should say so far has been very nice!).  After the service, I had to get some groceries because Ben, Rachael and Megan are coming over for some dinner tomorrow before we all go to the Clippers game (that’s the minor league team here in Columbus, and they just built a new stadium downtown).

Tonight, Dan and I are headed to Knead (a new restaurant in the Short North) and a movie (not sure what yet, but we’re thinking Get Low, the new flick with Bill Murray)!  Looking forward to it!

-Attend a vastly different religious service-

This week’s challenge is to attend a vastly different religious service.  Since it’s the Muslim holy month of Ramadan, I decided that I would like to visit a mosque.  And, with all of the nonsense going on surrounding the Muslim Center to be built near ground zero, I think it’s a good time to get some perspective and to remember that freedom of religion is part of what makes America great.  As a person that went through 12 years of Catholic school and that has visited Jewish temples and many Protestant churches, lived with girls of several faiths, including Hinduism, Protestantism and Judaism, and has had many friends of various faiths (including Islam) and friends with no faith, I think this is very important.  As I decided on my challenge this week, I actually started to wonder what I meant by “vastly different” anyway.  A Muslim service probably isn’t “vastly different,” but I suppose it depends on your perspective.  Anyway, I got in touch with a friend in my program at OSU that has been in several of my classes (and who happens to be Muslim) and he has graciously invited me to a few different services this weekend, and he even enlisted a female cousin so that I could hear a female perspective.  One of those services involves breaking the daily fast, which means food, delicious middle-eastern food, and I’m pretty excited about that.  I look forward to being able to write about this experience at the end of the week.  Stay tuned.

Oh, and is anyone with me?!

This week’s challenge was to ask what people think about me and “just listen.”  And now that I’m thinking about how to write a post when I’m supposed to “just listen,” I think that I should write an un-post.  So, I will share an anonymous snippet from each person, minus my usual commentary.  This was a mix of family, old friends, and new friends.  I appreciate everyone who responded to my silly request!

What do you think about me?

“I also know you are very sensitive and question yourself a times.  You seem quite independent but I think you need people around you.”

“You have been my rock really in my adult life since dad died.”

“You are your own worst critic.  Fearful of what others think.  Adventurous, not afraid to try new things.”

“I like that you are working on this [new thinking] because even though we’re not together, it kind of makes us closer, since so many people don’t think about anything, and it certainly makes the both of us odder ducks, together.”

“I love the fact that you don’t know how special you are. Don’t roll your eyes at me!”

“You’re reading and writing and getting things done not because you need to fulfill a requirement, but because you genuinely want to know more about your field and about what’s out there in general.  At the same time, and maybe because you spent time as a teacher before you enrolled in your current program, you want your information to be relevant.  I suspect you have little patience with theories or ideas that are completely abstract and ungrounded.  (This is why I enjoy your posts in which you talk about what you’re reading in conjunction with your everyday life — you refuse to be one of those hoity-toity academics.)”

“What I like most about you is your desire to learn, talk about stuff, and challenge yourself.”

Okay, just a little commentary: I think I thought that when I asked people what they think of me, that I would hear more negative things, which was sort of stupid to think because who’s going to be completely honest and tell you negative things?  No good would come of that, really.  Especially since I am apparently quite sensitive (a fact I like to hide).  I wouldn’t do that to another person either, so it was kind of a silly idea.  But, I guess I just wanted to point out that I didn’t really mean this to be an ego-stroking activity.  Regardless, it was nice of people to take some time to let me know how they view me.  It opened my eyes and made me appreciate them and myself a little more (and even made me cry a few times).  Thank you, I needed that.

-Ask what others honestly think of you (and just listen)-

This week’s challenge is to ask what others honestly think of me and then just to listen to what they have to say without inserting any protest or explanations.  I think what I wanted this challenge to be about is some honest feedback.  You know how sometimes you think you come across one way to people only to find out later that you have been putting out something completely different?  I’m hoping that I can take what people say, reflect on it, and improve myself.  I’m going to ask just a few people since I feel kind of weird about putting people out.  I think I better do this via email since I won’t be able to see everyone in person and I don’t want to put anyone on the spot either.  I think email will let them think for a minute, avoiding some awkwardness.  I’m  feeling really nervous right now.  Eeks.  What will you say?

This week’s challenge was to go to a play. Marcy and I went to see the Broadway musical, Wicked at the Ohio Theater. We got all dressed up, went out to a nice dinner at a sushi restaurant, and then headed downtown feeling a little bit fancy. See, we had splurged on fifth row seats and when we got to the old regal theater, with the gilded walls and ceiling and red velvet curtains and seats, it felt nice (and foreign) to walk right into the first level and then be escorted to the front by a kindly old gentleman in a tux that asked us one question before we took out seats, “First you have to tell me, how excited are you?” Neither of us have ever been good about masking our feelings. We must have been beaming.

We sat down and took the theater in. It was beautiful and I’ve never had to crane my neck backwards to see the entire theater before. We sat and listened to the fancy orchestra seat crowd talk about how they were getting rid of their horses, taking an aging parent to Ireland, and sending the kids off to college in California and Texas. It reminded me of a comment Marcy said earlier that day. “You know what’s funny about us getting fancy? We’re so not.” But, then again maybe we are. I mean, there we were, right?

The lights went down and we both looked at each other with our super-sized smiles. Two hours later, I felt like I’d barely been watching for twenty minutes. It was intermission time and we went to grab some snacks from the lobby. We debriefed that we loved the costumes, couldn’t find the mic on the main characters, saw themes of power, truth, history, depth of character, racism, animal rights, etc (This story had to have been written by a PhD, I swear. Yep, just looked it up). Marcy had read the book beforehand and was letting me in on just how different it was. I didn’t want the show to end, but the second act came and went as quickly as the first and before we knew it we were giving a standing ovation and fawning over how well the writer of the screenplay incorporated this story into the original story, The Wizard of Oz (One of my top two childhood favorites… the other, Annie). It was fun to see this author’s ideas about how the Tinman, Scarecrow and Cowardly Lion came to be, and how, of course, the Wicked Witch might not have been so wicked.

What’s so great about getting to spend an evening watching a really good play, or any other type of performing art, is that you get to feel fancy. What do I mean by “feeling fancy” though? I like to use that term, and what I think I mean is that I allow myself to appreciate and partake in some beauty in the world. Instead of my old practical, efficient self, I enjoy dressing up, eating good food, watching and critiquing art, things that most of us as we get caught up in the day-to-day do very infrequently. Feeling fancy is usually a little above my station. I need to remember to allow myself to feel fancy more often.

-Go to a play/symphony-

This week’s challenge is to go to a play/symphony.  I chose a play.  This is something I would like to do more often, but it feels so indulgent, and it takes time and planning.  Sad, right?  This play that I will be going to this week has been in the works for quite a while.  Marcy had the genius idea that we should buy each other tickets to Wicked, which is now playing in Columbus, as birthday gifts to each other (since our birthdays are 10 days apart).  This coming Saturday is the big day and I’m really looking forward to getting dressed up, going out for a nice meal and watching a Broadway show… and we really went for it and got tickets in the fifth row!  I don’t know if I can call this a challenge, maybe a wake up call to remind myself to do something cultural.  Either way, it’s going to be a good week.

This week’s challenge was to rewrite my about page.  This was really difficult mostly because I felt this stupid need to be profound.  The fact is, however, that I like my old about page.  I think it sums me up rather nicely.  So, here’s what I did.  I tried to write in the third person to force myself to think a little bit differently.  And what follows is what I ended up with, but please note that I didn’t want to get rid of my old about page, so I just shoved it to the bottom of the screen (click on the “about mii” tab to view both).  Yes, that will do for now.  Oh, and check out my new and improved avatar (to the right of the screen)!  I made it using Face Your Manga and it was fun.

Who is Laurie?  Or, what has Laurie become?

Laurie is a perfectionist, but she didn’t used to be.  At one point in time, she was sort of a lovable mess of clumsiness, forgetfulness, and thoughtlessness.  It’s a good thing she is decently smart so that she could compensate in school, and was contagiously happy so that she could be forgiven by her peers.  Even though she was a young child of divorce and life was schnarky at times (she also likes to make up words), she didn’t seem to notice too much.

She doesn’t really know when this change happened, from perfect mess to tamer of messes.  It might have been in college, when she went to a school with a whole bunch of upper middle class kids that made her feel slightly inadequate and moderately bitter.  Although her high school was filled with the same sort of kids, so maybe it just took a while to register?  At any rate, it seemed to really set in when Laurie got her first job in The Real World (the real one, not the show), just after her dad passed away suddenly.  This was when she began to understand real loss and real responsibility.  Now that she really thinks about it, it must have been adulthood that did this to her, sad, sorry adulthood.

She became a perfectionist out of necessity.  See, that happy careless klutz could not be trusted to take care of a classroom full of middle schoolers, to be prepared with a lesson each day, to grade endless papers, to respond to parents appropriately, to learn how to dress professionally or to set aside grief as the adult in charge.  If she exerted tremendous self-discipline, she could do these things, and so that’s what she learned to do.  You must understand that this was a massive achievement for her.  In high school she would write her homework on her palm, sweat it off, and have to call a friend to get the assignment which she wouldn’t start until after an excessively long nap and which she would then complete while watching The Tonight Show and hoping that she didn’t sleep through her alarm the next morning.  Massive achievement or not, learning self-discipline can suck joy out of day to day life and you can start to believe that if you just control every variable that you can have some semblance of peace.  This she soon learned was very untrue, which made her a little bit on edge, which made her work more stressful than joyful and so after five years, she decided she needed a break.

Maybe this realization came because she had recently gotten married and she was happier than she had ever been, but something just didn’t seem right.  Who was she to be teaching kids?  What did she know?  Was this going to be her life forever?  Maybe there was something better?  Maybe she could go back to school?  So, she and her husband decided that now was the time for a little adventure, pre-kids and all.  Now she’s in her second of three years of a PhD program in Educational Technology and she loves it and she’s feeling a little less perfectionist these days.  Don’t jump to any conclusions though, the first two years of this kind of study was hard, stressful, emotional and, in many ways, it broke her down.  But, in the past few months, she has been able to see more clearly what this experience has enabled her to do.  She’s been able to take a break, to push herself to her limits, to think, to grow, to read, to write, to love writing, to see the big picture, to live joyfully again, but this time consciously, purposefully.

So, who is Laurie right now?  Laurie is a writer.  Laurie is a thinker, a dreamer, an impatient terror, a philosopher, a nature lover, a partner, an overly sensitive child, a serious woman, a sharp-tongued tyrant, an art-loving philistine, a sad sap, a happy fool, an idealist, a realist, an optimist, a wannabe mom, an amateur academic, a teacher, a professional student, a passionate lark.  She rarely takes anyone’s word for it.  She tries to take care of herself, but she tries even harder to love herself.

-Write (or rewrite) your about page-

This week’s challenge is to write or rewrite (in my case) your about page.  For the record an “about page” is a page on a blog (and in some other places) that tells about the author of the blog, written by the author.  I’m kind of dreading and looking forward to this on both at the same time.  On the one hand, I’m tired of my old about page, and as I studied about pages of other bloggers, I began to wonder why the heck I even wrote what I did there.  Does that really tell about “who I am?”  On the other hand, it’s a lot of pressure to write an about page.  What can I say in a few paragraphs that will tell you “who I am?”  Anything I say will be inadequate, so should I just spout some random facts?  Should I tell a story?  What’s the most important thing to tell an audience about me?  I have no idea.  That’s why I think you should try it too.  It’s a good exercise.  Write a few paragraphs that might tell the world “about you.”  It feels funny, no?

Who’s with me?!