FINALY

So it has begun.


I have finally begun my story that has been waiting to be written. I have been called a Golem, and that is exactly what I am. And yes, enthralled by the external world I have acted in a way that was inappropriate, damaging and potentially fatal. However, I am a Child of Clay, the spawn of nature and divinity.

My trial has come from taking these things in counterbalance and not maintaining peace within myself. My divinity, my purpose and my respect were being overtaken by my natural self, the greed, the pride and mislead self preservation.

The start of my story has begun and Ivy Soliene-Takara can finally appear on a paper that is truly hers. She is no longer someone I wish I was, but someone I will grow with and succeed with.

Her challenges will be mine, and mine will be given unto her and together I will write out the diversity of change and there in my purpose will finally be achieved.

Superficial

LA

To go to meet a boy

To not eat even a small slice of pizza

Starvation till tomorrow is needed to feel good about the body

All for a boy

All for LA

All for an internally sickly body that looks great

To be so excited for all the wrong reasons

To exist for the sake of torturing one’s self for the acknowledgment's of another that has not ever been met

I shake my head and turn back to my English

I wait for someone to come

Who is not dependent on drugs

Who is not dependent on sex

Who is not dependent on appearances and the casualties that come with them?

I found this, it is from Adv. Creative writing class

~About Jan 2008~

He finished his story, it was an interesting ending. Something I wish he hasn’t experienced. There was a round of applause, conversation moves on. An image on the paper next to me, a friend captured the tranquility in his features quite well. He’s off in a zone lost in thought, lost in himself. He sees the two of us looking at him. I don’t think he knows why we are. Pulled into conversation he talks a bit and turns away to go back to alone. I cannot help but wonder, “What you would be doing if drugs were not around. Or if you gave them up. I know they have molded you. But I wonder if you had the choice and the purpose, would you abandon what you know? Is it possible to have the purpose anymore?”

My English is changing. Along with my soul. I write what I see in a different way than before. I finally accept my life and I am writing how it is with the colors added in, rather than writing of the colors and making them my own. He listens and watches, talking intermittently. But I wonder his thoughts, if there are any in his head. The story written is a great one, the story tells of a world I will never know. I just can’t help but feel remorse that he had to be thrown into it and know it as his own.

It is a great story for books; it is a great story to temporarily pretend is ones own. But to live it, not something I would want for my own life. But if no one lived like that, where would imagination have the potential to take us later? In the end people must go through that for one reason or another. However, I selfishly wish that I never have to meet those people and know that that pain is real and part of them. I selfishly wish to be sheltered and wish I had a wing to carry over them. Class is over and he walks out the door with the rest of them. I briefly wonder if he will make it back.

Ticks in Action

I wonder if you know it, how most things start with hope, even just a spark. It is a form of Faith after all. When you hit a switch, you expect it to work, for a fraction of a beat the moment is focused, defined and ready for that hope. I wonder if you know it, the way people feel, the way they grow. I wonder if you know it, the way responses are earned.

Do you? The light slowly earns its way through the day and pleasantries and vibrations go from languidly far to near and implemented. Suddenly a faded grey becomes abruptly bright as the likeness of hope manifests into its purpose and pure wavelengths that translate in the human eye to the goldenrod of a dawn just ending.

Like, how can it be known if it is a fleeting thing? There is something all appear to seek, but the search of it is a tough one. I wonder if you know what I do not. I wonder if you know.

You might. Fleeting feelings of a time past are encompassed in the adventures developing through word and deed. Mirthful moments expand the consciousness and moments of contact slowly grow as the comfort expands into the gentle swell of camaraderie joins the acquaintances.

At some point it would develop into thinking as one. For it is in the nature of humans to seek contact, to maintain that contact brings the hearts into a conjoined beating and the electricity begins to fuse into understanding past the gentle ‘hello’.

Least of all, I wonder if you know man should not be alone. As the sun was good and gone, bodies still act towards maintaining comfort in understanding.

A gentle sway from start to finish but the moment is not lost. It is surprising the contrast in the tail ends of the arch, but nevertheless departure is deferred further and later. Smack in the center of the revolution is the gentle bliss of connection. Understandings of cause and effect become disclosed from one unto another.

Small ticks in action betray the mind. I wonder if you know it, the nature hidden under nature. I wonder if you want to. The stimulus concealed in action, linked to the thoughts not translated, seems to dodge any inquiry. I wonder if you know it, the moment the first actual level of respect set in.

Amount in perspective? Answer undefined due to fluctuating variables.

For time, constantly expanding in its forever shortening grace seems to disintegrate in definition for as long as reality is kept at bay. The louder more extreme colors of encounters past settle into the swell of methodical rhythm, heat becomes collective and tension dispelled in any reachable, workable area.

Your knowledge has superiority, integrity and reassurance. I wonder if you know.

Thoughts flow from within; they course around till finally finding the purchase enough to climb outward to its exodus.

Are the two palms of mine supposed to react the way they do? Are they supposed to reach and touch and reassure my presence to myself in the manner that they invade, persuade and taunt?

Will I ever learn what my actions may cause?

Intriguing, is the actuality that inability to function overflows the pores, all as the pendulum of time comes to a halt. Leaving the presence of this new comfort is like taking the pacifier from a distressed child. So new, unreliable, and completely foreign is this comfort, yet my mind accepts its dangers as if they have been felt out for years.

To remove that; I wonder if you know; the things that can be hidden must be so.

Me, Myself and the development of Who are new things for contemplation throughout the upcoming future as the goldenrod disappears over the horizon once more, leaving me cold, alone but one step closer to enlightenment. I wonder if you knew enough to see this coming.

Respect

It’s been a while, my you’ve grown
I’m still the same size as last you saw me. If anything I’m smaller
A shake of the head to imply that understanding cannot be imparted and the moment moves on.

It starts with talking, something normal, and something equal
It starts with a glance, sizing up, seeing the change
Knowing not the hidden thoughts of the other things remain at that point and the moment moves on.

I was sixteen
It’s been… Wow
A brief hug and a deep smile; hints of the past pass through and the moment moves on.

Out into the world, looking to discover sweets
Discovery of a need, but 8 things block the way
The number is argued but in joviality and another encounter with the past, though to stick with pattern the moment moves on.

Back inside speaking slowly
Speaking softly, pictures shown and hunger passes
Beginning the activity the process is begun and after a time, that too passes when the moment moves on.

Following food dishes are done without the request bringing much surprise.
Following on with the subtle presses outward flirting is ensued
Knowing not the hidden thoughts of the other, but seeing more, the moment moves on.

Hand at the knee
Sitting in the soft, it has been decided and without much it happens

Sudden warmth, not once but twice and the effect it has is not like another, sadly the moment moves on.



Happy but frustrated
Unable to execute the usual games from the sensations
For once being carried along, happy and content, things are just as they were at parting, only more maturely understood even though the moment moves on.

Knowing of the weak points, nothing changes
Respect is passed and it settles down into laying and watching

So much warmth it is hard to let go, but for safety and promises it is left and the moment moves on.

Methodical: One Night Stand

It started with a pain, something common, but sore. It started with a need, something natural, but misplaced. It came to pass with a phone call, something unusual, but expected. It came to pass at 11 at night, something exciting, but uncalled for. It ended with an embrace, something longed for, but mislaid. It ended with a connection, something had, but bigger.

Sway left, sway right; gentle tides make heads light.
Move slow, move calm; prickling shocks move into my palm.
Sitting close, sitting warm; my crying relieves all old harm.
Momentum steady, momentum projected; the inching closer is expected.


Tug at my heartstrings I lean forward and give your fantasies a run. Taking selfishly for reasons other than your own both gain something they have needed, however the repercussions are yet to be found. Being on the other end before, sorrow takes me as I think of your role, however grateful I am at the pain you helped me expel.


The fears that I am absolutely alone are removed as you take me in your arms; you personally push my doubt away at the pain I will cause you when you truly recognize that this was my “One Night Stand”

Warmth presses on the tender skin of my lips and arms are pulled tight around me. Swaying to a beat only you can hear the methodical moment is about to begin. Understandings already imparted I let the part of me that needed this comfort take it and assess it itself without my minds help. Starting small the methodic pulse increases and my mind finally quiets letting my soul have its chance.

Taking all, following a call.
Gentle dance, fixes broken chance.
Simple hope, allows to cope.

Short nap finishes the moment and I disappear into the night. Back to responsibilities, back to reality. The moment lasts till morning when the truth of what I have done is brought back to mind. You want more than I can give; I need everything you want to give. However, it cannot be received and it is a chaos I will not tread into. You cannot understand but you help all you can. The act I finished, and the ecstasy in kisses will not ever be reached again.

Me and my “One Night Stands”

A Rant, Just me talking on the computer is all...

The ach in my hands is as great as it has been since the cortisone shots, but it is so overwhelmingly diminished by the pain in my heart. The childishness of my situation is disgraceful. Why did I memorize his face? Why did I take such meticulous care to learn exactly how every muscle moved to create every emotion I have seen him carry? Why did I take the effort to learn every single way of detecting what emotion I could wring out of him, even if he didn’t want me to be aware of it, sitting in the car or wherever we were. Why is it that my heart has found a hold so great in this one that it can’t be shaken, that it draws me further and further into remorse at the fact that he is happy. Like a drug, the more I got the more I needed. I have never felt this much hurt radiating from the fact of a specific person, let alone feel this way when I feel such pride for him. I mean, seriously the joy in his voice when he imparted upon me his new relationship status with the girl he’s been striving to be worthy of. To know I was the first to be told. To know that I hold a part of him and he willingly gave it to me because he didn’t want me hurt. To know all of these things, to be called Beautiful and to be told that if someone denies that fact that they are not worth my time and I will be happy. He knows I will be happy. How is it that with all of this there is an undercutting darkness that makes every moment bleak if I forget to shut it in? My Sunbeams, the six little rays of light in my week, little 3 and 4 year olds at church; I was happy this morning, watching them, knowing that even while they were misbehaving there was such a pure innocence in them. I was reading yesterday night, with a 2 year old lying atop me, pointing at the colors on the poke-dotted pillow calling out their names with a tired but anxious voice. Looking at me for assurance every time. That’s the only pure joy I can feel anymore. It is the only time that the name does not hurt, that the memories are kept at bay. You would think with all of my distress that this was more than just a friendship that I have had since October of last year. That’s the moment it clicked, the moment I knew that I needed to get in as much time as possible with the kid. I’ve never felt that compulsion before. I have never felt that pure need to maintain a friendship and learn as much as I could as fast as I could. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t know he wouldn’t be around forever. My heart knew it the moment I he touched my leg to show me the placement of a muscle. It tears me to pieces that I can remember the touch, the angles, and the sheer magnitude of his presence. I do him no justice when I say that he has a charisma that entices me every time he so much as enters a room. Example I was in the hall waiting for class people going in and out and I hear footsteps. Immediately without a doubt I looked up thinking ‘that sounds like Him but it’s not because he is still at the library.’ I was wrong. It was him. I took no notice of anyone else; I looked up occasionally as a few people entered and exited, but more for relief to my brain from studying, not because I thought it was him. THE SOUND OF THE FOOTSTEPS! Alas, as I have decided from having small sections of my broken soul handed to me from close friends, I deserve better than second, I deserve to wait. I know this with what’s left of my heart. However, my mind won’t shut up. I am purposefully seeking out distractions, going so far as to put myself in harm’s way, which for me and the examples is huge; most people would look at me and laugh. However, my close friends who know me would shake their head in defeat, one of which I am sure will read this. The others, I’m good enough at hiding this from and they don’t even know. AHH! I can hear his voice in my head. NO! I am NOT Beautiful! I am twisted and distorted, dark, ominous thoughts encompass my very being when I am left alone. I use my friends, all of them, they are my crutch, and I use their conversations as vantage points in developing the complex workings of my outer appearances. I lied on the phone the other day. Yes I am coping, no I am not fine. No I am not dealing. I knew from the very moment I brought him home that I wouldn’t have him to keep and I tried desperately to put him away, I tried with a passion to not let him know how I feel, I tried to make him think I was never going to be anything more than a friend. Because I won’t, I can’t. It is impossible. I have not the capabilities for it. I am sorry. I am terribly sorry. I should have listened, accepted the first fight with myself and let it drop. I should have lost my hold when I understood and would escape safe.

SAVE ME!

That’s my plea, however I will not call it to you, for it would destroy me to take what you want from you. Stupid fears, stupid feelings, stupid me. Everyone leaves me, in one way or another. Every friend I have has disappeared and with his flight down to see her I have officially lost every hold on people near me. Many of them left from my own will, others left unknowing that I believe that it happened, I see pain in one’s eyes, I haven’t touched another in over two years, the mental connection is strong, but it’s not what I need, it’s just enough to keep me alive. Thank you dearly. Others are gone or I have changed while they were away just enough for them to not recognize my insides anymore enough to call me out. I know I am being watched over, but I can’t seem to go towards the warmth of the becoming. I keep piling things against me. Even when I don’t something happens. Like today I was all happiness and sunshine after church, bringing joy to others is where I find mine, and I can only bring the pure kind to the children, they are my safeguard against complete and total destruction. Anyways, when I got home I was fine… then whoosh boom, exhaustion and the need to sleep and never wake, so I read to pass the time, a couple hundred pages from one o’clock to 9 and I am still not quenched. I go to stand and I get this overwhelming sense of agony and a memory of an occurrence while I was reading “Ivy, I think mom misses Him more than you do, she just made a comment about it and sighed” I smile weakly and say, over my book and from the tangle of blankets on my floor, “I doubt that but she can think so” and the echo of my own voice in my head feels like a needle to a balloon tight with the pressure of the air within it. CANT I JUST PICK ONE OF THE EMOTIONS I FEEL????? I just want to feel the happiness for him. I don’t blame Him for my sadness, it’s my own situation that has me in such remorse, and he’s just the poor victim that caused the onslaught. He was a friend, he is a friend. Our relationship hasn’t changed, as far as I am aware, but to have the pure knowledge that his face moves in this delicate way, and the impossible lightness he gets when she calls and how everything is dropped to make sure she has what she needs is the most… most, Beautifully cryptic thing in my life. I would lie if I said that I didn’t know this would happen. I would lie if I said it wasn’t worth it. I would have lied if I said that I think this is the most ridiculous thing in yet to occur to me. I would lie if I said I did not wish I was her. I would lie if I said that I won’t fall into the next arms that so much as marginally open to me even if I know without a doubt that I am putting myself in yet another dangerous situation such as my first boyfriend. I would lie if I said I don’t welcome that pure adultery to my soul as punishment for this nonexistent plague I feel I have given myself.
I would lie if I said that I would take my own life, however it would also be a lie if I said I wouldn’t welcome it if it came on its own.

Yes Yy, I wish I was a Lemming.

Another Mask

It has come to my attention that second is not something that I should strive for. I have always been told “do the best that you can and come in at your top regardless of others” but now I’m being told that this is my game to live and whatever place I pick is the one I will get if i but wait for it. It seems a contridiction of terms to me. I “don’t deserve to be number two”. I wish I had enough stamina to do more than just believe that. I should act. At least thats what I'm told. It is amazing and condemning that humans have hearts big enough to feel two kinds of relief, a type of failure the need for escape and a contentment with placement all at once. And to throw in a lack of belief is an expediential crime. Frustration riddles me when I think of how small I really am and how light my burdens are. This is just a preparation of my bridge of accomplishments to get my past strife later, I just hope that I finally find the ability to understand the rules before it grows too late. I have so many joys about me it hurts that my heart wont let them in. I know what it does and I know what it should but no matter how hard I try I just seem to hurt myself in order to heal. Like bloodletting that is not the proper solution and I need to find an alternate rout. In 4 months I will have officially left my teens so I have plenty of years ahead of me but I feel as if anything past what my emotions can contemplate is too far to be worth waiting for. I know without a doubt the one thing that I want more than the entire world. If I had it I know that my fears would be replaced with ones that I cant wait to have. How will my darling do on their first day of school, what will I do to keep them strong enough to make the proper choices so I don’t have to fear for their decisions when they are out in the world, I just have to fear for how the world treats them. I want to have the fear of having a sick child and needing to decide on what I am going to give up so that they can have a Christmas they understand and appreciate.

I need to keep growing.

Being emergent is my favorite quality and I wish that I did not reach a plateau in my needs, I wish it were easer to sort than having to wait on the choices of others. "If you wish, act." Yeah well I'm trying, i just dont understand it yet. There are people at my back. And I am more than glad for their support. Without them I would not be here or I would be even more damaged than I am. I just wish I had enough self esteem to realize how wonderful I really have it. I’m like a rock, you throw me around and I can handle it. We all can. However if you get just the right amount of pressure in just the right place I split down the middle and into a few pieces. The pressure might not have been much but it was so precisely added that there is no way the devil cannot exist. I’ve broken in such a way I need time to understand my weak point so that I can defend it by changing myself. I just hope I will change, and not put on another mask. I hope I can do this in time to recognize the most important number one from the great people guarding my back so that I can invite him to walk astride me to face together the sharpest point of the adversary and conquer the world and be honored into eternal life and eternal salvation. I just hope I can find a number one that thinks of methe same. I cant make it as two. I cant accept that fate. I know I can choose to be Number one. I know I can choose the one that holds me at that point. Who has that respect ofr me. However, I just hope that I can trust myself enough to let the Lord guide me and make my life shed as much light on others so they can see their own runway while he lets me amble down mine.Maybe I will finally understand what I know rather than attempting to persuade myself with basic knowledge. Maybe I will be given the chance to remember the child I left behind in the name of preservation. Maybe i will finally believe that im beautiful. Only time will tell.

Thanx to all who love me be it from a simple one time antic to the feeling of need for my soul. I love through admoration all of those who enter my life for I know you’ve left at least a thumbprint in the smoke paper of my heart, if not whole handprints.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME???

I really do not understand. Something is terribly wrong with me. I am so confused. I am scared. But worst of all I get fustrated becasue I have no reason to be. I have reason, but not really enough to justify. I can nolonger seem to control my thoughts, they run away from me. Current happenstance is an interesting ach. One I must say I have no understanding of, thus the confusion, among other things. I have heard that i am Beautiful. But what does that mean? How do I show it? How do I grow? How have I forgotten?



Missing out on life is to miss out on love. I am standing on the edge of losing my life, and I dont know how I got here.

I think I need help finding it again.

Lab Practical

Well i just got through my lab practical, i think i might write a flash fiction about it later but i think right now i am going to take a nap. I am just happy that it went as well as it did. Awesome beans and later days.

The Dreamer

a re-edit of a previous blog:

Sleep. You are obtaining that gentle thing. There is soft music emanating from my laptop. I am sitting up in bed, contently warm above the covers. I am here with you sleeping at my side, legs angled to cover the bed below my feet. I look past my computer to your face. The occasional twitch, to accompany the gentle ticking of my keys causes a placid twitch at my own lips. The rhythmic dance of my fingers is a jovial moment in which I enjoy for the act is painless, with another so close, so unaware I believe that if I were to have a twinge in my wrists from the labor I might just have the capacity to work beyond it.

Such a wonderful friend, I am glad you feel enough comfort to lay so close and sleep in time to the thoughts in my imagination. Something worth writing is flowing through the room. I am glad to be part of this still and simple moment of life. As you inhale and exhale the tides of breath go so slow. I wonder the dreams, the thoughts the flashes of color you experience as you sleep near to me, dear to me. I am non expectant of being a part of the actualities that you experience in the lands of dreams. What is it you dream? It is something of terror or of joy? It is something of peace, or nothing at all? Do you think in color or grey’s? I need to be careful, my mind might run away again. I think I might have called that too late, I am seeing images pass now. What could you dream?

Is there such a thing as the side of life and the side of death? What if one could cross it? Could that make a dream? It would start with you. Always you, that is how dreams begin. You are in a place that you know well, work, school, possibly church. You stand in the middle of a room, and things begin to happen fast, it starts like a normal day:

Going through things that you would normally do, and believing anything that occurs because it is not a typical reality, you go about your day and when whoever is most precious to you is taken, it seems like it is supposed to happen though it is a horrid circumstance. Because of the awkwardness, and the need for this individual to be returned to the realm that mean the most to them you travel to an old rusted out and weatherworn barn and enter within to call upon the hag that lives there within. Being you, you are not taken aback by her countenance or nauseating habits and you gently ask her how to enter in the realm that this significant other has been taken. The nauseating smell, the grotesque details of the dead corpses and the thick mist that creeps through the dark are so vivid that it is amazing the brain can tell the difference between dreaming and waken states, or that it forgets such details upon awakening. Gaining your instruction you depart, remembering each and every detail of the trip as you would if it were the caress of your first love.

Entering into a maze you find your way to the gate of death by quickly dodging tyrants and fiends with your talents at stealth. Entering in you come across s decent witch in charge of receiving payment for the entrance and exit of the portal. Individuals are placed on a platform that weighs whither they will want to stay or if they will want to leave the place after their trip. On the scale it is deemed that he would want to stay, so the witch takes from him and places the payment in a cage so that the desire to return to life is balanced out and becomes stronger. Looking around, people will want to gain back hearts, (yes the actual things, beating and all) or colors or emotions. To cross the boarder something must be lost to be gained. Noone is ever the same after acrossing, though the actualities are different. Going off to rescue the significant other in the perils of the realm of the dead time is the sacrifice.

WAIT!

That is starting to not sound like his personality, and more like what I would do, come to think of it I think that might have been one of my dreams. I pause in typing to reminisce on the fact that it was and his face catches my attention again. His brow furls at the silence in my keys and another possibility enters my head:

Taking into consideration the awkward sound of my music because it is background themes to anime’s or videogames and the frantic clickty-clasck of my keys and occasional whirr of the fan on my computer, I have decided that you might be in a giant sand storm, the clicking resembles the gear of your men and the whirr of the laptop keeping me warm is the bustling winds, for all I know your face is in a position to get the occasional burst of warm air it puts off. The music might add to the mood of the air and whither there is an enemy or a friend to be picked up and carried along. The stopping of my typing might have resembled a frantic pause in which hopes for the enemies passing were filling the soul.

I find myself shrugging and thinking many another scenario but glancing at the clock I realize just how late it is and that everyone is no longer awake. I sense the inappropriateness of the situation, watching your delicate face sleep so calmly next to me alone in my bedroom. However, having the opportunity to ponder on it is one of peace. Peace is such a moment that comes rarely enough that it causes me a tear in each of my eyes at the genuine harmony and ease within this moment in time. I feel the tears caress my cheek as I wish you had the desire to do as I save this entry, and un wishing to disturb you think of how I slip away into the night, turning the covers down and around you after closing my computer and press my hand fondly on your arm. I will say a prayer for comfort for sleep for you lately has been hard to enjoy. Knowing how I will gather some spare blankets from my room as silently as possible I think on how I will turn out the light and slip upstairs to the living room, the couch waiting to take me in its arms. Beginning the process a smile accompanies the gentle swell of tears as I Hope for your simple pleasantries.

Something decent

Here is something i can type.

Sleep. That gentle thing. soft music from my laptop. I am sitting here content with you sleeping at my side and feet. The occational twitch, to accompany the gentle ticking of my keys. the rythmic danc eof my fingers is a jovial moment in that i am actually doing it painlessly and with another so close. Such a wonderfil friend to lay so close and sllep in time to the thoughts in my brain. Letting something worth writing flow through the room i am glad to be part of this still moment of life. Inhale and exhale the tides of breath go so slow. I wonder the dreams, the thoughts the flashes of color you experiance as you sleep near to me. I am non expectant of being a part of the actualities that oyu experiance, however, having the oppertunity to ponder on it is one of peace, a moment that comes rarely enough that i have a tear in my eye at the genuine peace and contentment of this moment in time. Unwishing to disturb you i save this entry now and slip away into the night for sleep for you can be hard to enjoy.

About me part one

Finally, I wrote, in pencil, some nice amounts of words for a science test, and I did so without pain. It was a glorious feeling, number one it didn’t hurt, number two I knew the answers enough to be able to write what I did.

By the way, I have carpel tunnel syndrome. Or some such other nonsense that means I have the same symptoms… According to the LAST doctor that I went to my right wrist does not have it and my left has only border line case. He only checked my wrists (what carpel tunnel is) but didn’t check for any other pinched nerves anywhere else so I believe, with my symptoms and pain and tingling etc that I have more nerves pinched but elsewhere. I need to get in to see a chiropractor. I got cortisone shots in my wrists… come to find out they relax muscle… okay fine, destroy your immune system temporarily (why I got deathly ill and am just getting over it now, a week later) and it atrophy’s connective tissue… Which made the tingling go away (because all the tension on the nerves) however, now my wrist bones keep popping all out and around where they should be. -shrugs- typing on the comp is still relatively painless so long as I keep the keyboard flat, or slightly downward towards the screen.

Okay, well that’s all you get for today, I’m going to write for me now. Ttyl and I hope to see you back!