Caught a handful of films at the LA Film Festival this year. Bummed I missed Dear Lemon Lima, even after they added an EXTRA screening, but out of the ones I did get to see, these were three notables:
This film was absolutely enchanting. Best coming of age story made in a long time. I'm partial to the story of the misfit, but not the dopey, sissy Little Miss Sunshine kind of misfit. I like the misfit that most resembles the ones I grew up with and looked up to. Stella is the story of a girl who probably grew up to be the coolest person on the planet. Word on the street is that it is the story of Sylvie Verhyde, the film's director. Sylvie, I just want to tell you, this is the kind of movie that Sofia Coppola would give her right arm to make. I can't imagine a more perfect film. Thinking of it now, I'm filled with the same fire and wonder that I walked away with after the screening. That feeling didn't fade until I fell asleep that night. Truly, a fantastic film. I don't want to spoil anything for anyone here, but prepare yourself for the undertow. I didn't want to leave this movie for a minute, and as soon as it has US distribution, I'm taking everyone I know to go see it.
This documentary is part of the movement I am starting to identify as the TOP-DOG Documentary. These documentaries have a distinctly Hollywood flavor, and like my fake genre's first commercial success, Dogtown and Z-Boys, these films say "Hey, in case you didn't know, our generation was the best one ever, and whatever you do now is because we did it first". I find myself in a tough spot with these films. I'm drawn to them, because they always have the potential to shed light on subcultures that I have at some point felt a part of, but as soon as I start to feel a part of things, I'm reminded that the filmmaker, and the subjects of the doc should be remembered as THE ONLY PEOPLE THAT EVER MATTERED. The viewer should stay behind the velvet rope and be happy to be in the presence of ORIGINAL GENIUS. Of course, for those in the know, these films always reveal that there are predecessors being ignored, and the hunger for celebrity and recognition ultimately does shed light on the sub-culture... just not always a good one. I was hooked on the story about Joshua Harris, and as his story unfolded, it became clear why even though I was spending hours online, on IRC, and sending emails in 1993, I never once heard of this guy or a single one of his projects. Thanks to film (and if Harris has his way, television) Joshua Harris will be back on someone's front page, and I have a feeling he's going to get a thrill from the fame in Hollywood that comes from having once done something people in NY got excited about, but can barely remember now. When this hits theaters, go check this out with your inter-nerd friends, see for yourself. There isn't much in the film that will shock you outside of the idea of one person spending so much money on something so fleeting, and having nothing to show for it but a festival hopping documentary.
I missed out on all the earlier buzz about this movie, which I'm actually pretty happy about. I even had Giant Robot 60 in my hands the day of the screening I attended, and HELD OFF of reading the interview with Charlyne Yi so I could walk in fresh. I knew it was going to be funny, I knew it would only deepen my passionate love for Michael Cera, and I knew that I was going to like it. Check out the interview with Charlyne in GR. It's a fun read, and it made me like the film even more. Charlyne Yi and Nick Jasenovic do a tremendously good job wrangling the hours of footage they had for this film, and they tell a fantastically fun, and original story. This is going to be in theaters soon, and this will be another one I will urge all my friends to see. This movie has the power to defrost at least a few of the outermost layers of the iciest hearts.
My general rule is to support the projects of anyone who supports Giant Robot, and Michael Cera and Martin Starr used to come in to GR back when GR60 cover artist Deth P. Sun used to work there. That was a good era. This issue of GR brings it around in a way that I love. It's a perfect way to commemorate 15 years of a company that strives to inspire, recognize and celebrate good things!
Now's a good time to make wise investments. Art always counts to me! With mega-corporations like Google not being willing to shell out bucks to talented peeps for their mini masterpieces, it's a good time to show your appreciation for creative endeavors by buying work from your favorite people out there.
Peter Thompson is one of my faves, and he's got some good deals going with his $50 drawings. Check them out on Flickr. This one makes me happy, but someone beat me to it... no worries though, there are still a ton of great pieces still available!
I also have to save pennies for the party at Yosemite Studios this week. Sad to hear this will be the last of the parties, but also secretly pleased that studio residents will be letting go of some gems. Sometimes it makes me feel dirty to buy stuff off of my friends, but I suppose it's a good thing in the long run.
Books seem to have the ability to show up and get read at the right time. The internet hustles for relevance, but books have an easy, quiet knack for it. The last book I finished was Reading Lolita in Tehran. I started it ages ago, and it was such a dull read that it took forever, but now it's paying off. Reading another text about the experience of the educated elite in the Middle East, and about women dealing with the changing political climate in Iran , has certainly added to the interest in what's going on in Iran right now - but more interesting now is how Americans are responding to what's happening on the ground. There's this passionate (as much passion as a person can gather from behind a keyboard) response to what's happening there, that I can't seem to get caught up in... not when I've seen how much democratic freedom Americans have been willing to give up in this country without the slightest hint at a fight.
I suppose that universally, we fall into the same political and economic cycles, despite scholar's best efforts to document the errors of the past. Is it formulas in place that we can't fall out of line with? Is it just complacency? Knowing that what we ignore now won't make an impact until we're too old to take responsibility for it?
Thomas Wolfe reflected on the Great Depression in the 1930s, and what his characters spoke of then is true now.
Different time. Different faces.
Same place. Same mistakes.
From George, Wolfe's central character, and not so thinly-veiled mouthpiece:
"Sometimes it seems to me... that America went off the track somewhere -back around the time of the Civil War, or pretty soon afterwards. Instead of going ahead and developing along the line in which the country started out, it got shunted off in another direction - and now we look around and see we've gone places we didn't mean to go. Suddenly we realize that America has turned into something ugly - and vicious - and corroded at the heart of its power with easy wealth and graft and special privilege... And the worst of it is the intellectual dishonesty which all this corruption has bred. People are afraid to think straight - afraid to face themselves - afraid to look at things and see them as they are. We've become like a nation of advertising men, all hiding behind catch phrases like 'prosperity' and 'rugged individualism' and 'the American way.' And the real things like freedom, and equal opportunity, and the integrity and worth of the individual - things that have belonged to the American dream since the beginning - they have become just words, too. The substance has gone out of them - they're not real any more..."
Sigh.
I need to spend more time with puppies and ponies.
Just as I was feeling that I was losing touch with karaoke in my life, it came on like a song tsunami to remind me I can never let go. Last month's trip to NYC had me back on the mic with Anne and her bachelor party posse from Brooklyn. We went to a spot in Chinatown that felt very LA, except for the late last call, and better dressed people.
It felt good to be back.
Last year's birthday was marked by a great dinner with friends, and then an awkward karaoke session with people from my different social circles all in the same place. We were sharing karaoke stylings, music selections and an intimate space without much harmony. For year 33 I did Disneyland instead, and my karaoke fix came later with Martin.
Last week we went down to Max Karaoke on Sawtelle for our first (and hopefully not last) karaoke lunch break! It was a challenge we were both down to tackle - cram as many songs as possible between us for the next 60 minutes, then return to work energized!
I should have kept count of how many we knocked out, but I was too busy looking for my next song. It was probably 6 or 7 a piece. Not all of them were winners, and I tried to mix it up with songs that were new for me, but we were both eager to maximize time and quality.
Later that night, I was surprised to get a second shot at karaoke magic in one 24 hour period. Lana texted about meeting up in K-town for karaoke at Rosen's with her posse and friend in from NYC. I was sick (infected with disease from touching things at Disneyland) but I had to try.
A few shots of Maker's and some Bud Light chased with OB helped me power through the illness, and Lana's crew picked crazy good songs to keep us going until after last call. I can't imagine a better way to have started and ended the day. Well.... unless I did this version of one of my karaoke faves:
Hung the Free to a Good Home show today, with the help of Tru, Keyla and Jeannette. All girl crews rule. This one went up smoothly. There are almost 70 pieces in the show, from over 30 artists, and all of them have dogs in them. This time around dogs are in the spotlight, and we are hosting an adoption event for West LA Animal Services. We're collecting donations for the shelter (and rewarding all donations with a 25% off coupon!), giving people a chance to meet shelter dogs, and also presenting an impressive collection of artwork celebrating canines. It all feels good to me.
Raising funds for LA Animal Services isn't a part of what we're doing with this show, but if you'd like to donate, you can do so on their website. The push here is to get these dogs adopted, at the very least, plant the seed! They'll be bringing dogs of different ages and sizes, but all with a great temperament. Maybe they'll bring the Spero they have for adoption there! MY Spero might be a little bummed to know that she's not the only one with the name, but she'd be happy if the fake Spero found a home, like she did.
Every animal I've ever shared my home with has come from a shelter, or was passed on to me by friends. I'm always a bit shocked when I find out people still get dogs from pet stores and breeders, but it happens. With the growth of so many breed specific rescue organizations, it's a shame it still does though. I've never been a breed specific person - maybe because I'm a mutt too, and although I've always dreamed of owning a Great Pyrenees, or a harlequin Great Dane, no dog to ever come out of any pooch's cooch will be better than Praxis, or even Spero in her dysfunctional way. The volunteers at the West LA shelter will be bringing some great dogs out tomorrow night (and one lone kitten!) that will all be available for adoption that day. If they need to be spayed or neutered, they won't be able to go home with people Saturday night, but they'll be available from the spay/neuter clinic right down Sawtelle, near Pico.
In regards to spay/neuter.... DO IT! I waited with Spero, heeding the advice of multiple vets and her neurologist, and then.... her lady time hit. I spend every minute outside with her protecting her virtue, and every minute inside with her cleaning up her DNA. It's terribly un-fun, and as I have no intentions of breeding her, I'm just counting down the days until I can take her to the vet and get her lady parts modified for safety and reproductive security. The last thing this world needs is more wobbly, head bobbing, needy puppies from her womb. I now believe this photo by Saelee was simply foreshadowing...
I feel lucky to work for a company that takes a sincere interest in doing shows like this. Just last month GRSF had the Tree Show, an always fantastic group show that benefits Friends of the Urban Forest. We do shows like this when the group and the theme seems right. I'm proud of pretty much every show that rolls out of the gate, but these shows make me the proudest. I'm always proud of the artists who step up to participate, the people who make time to come out for the receptions, and the organizations who take a chance on GR.
2009 seems to be the year for getting back in touch with my long hibernating activist spirit. I went to an orientation session for tutoring in Echo Park at 826 LA, am planning on going to an informational session at City Hall about how to get involved in local politics, and volunteered at Hollywood Hill event featuring the current economic challenges facing Rwanda.
The night about Rwanda moved me more than anything I've listened in on in a really long time. The speaker was Josh Ruxin, the director of Millenium Villages Project Rwanda. There was an amazing audience in attendance, including several people who had spent time in Rwanda and proposed challenging insights about the situation there.
I'm as guilty as the next person about living in a bubble, forgetting about the world outside of mine. I think years as an animal rights activist didn't help much either. It's only been in recent years that I've taken any interest at all in human issues. I'm getting softer in my old age.
The Millenium Villages Project Rwanda struck a chord with my values and feelings about cultural sensitivity, development from within, and the importance of building communities that become self-reliant and united in growth. During the course of the presentation, I wondered what someone like me could do - someone on the other end of the globe, without a lot of capital - but by its conclusion, I felt empowered by receiving the knowledge that Josh shared. His presentation was hopeful, and not some generic HOPE on a t-shirt hopeful, but truly optimistically inspirational. After learning that in a country with such a dark history - with so many cards stacked against it - there is so much promise for its people to forge a new path, I was forced to think about the opportunities I have to empower others... with or without a lot of capital.
Keep an eye out for Hollywood Hill's upcoming project, Armchair Revolutionary. These folks are committed to making a difference by turning the opportunities they've been given (and earned) into opportunities for others.
About a year ago, Tivo suggested that I watch a show called Ninja Warrior on G4. My first thought was that it was going to be one of those terrible dubbed-over shows that show American audiences that Asians are irrational and wacky - life in Japan is all work work work and then bizarre play in giant sumo suits. Thankfully G4 didn't go that route. They found a program that was a showcase of sincere dedication and superhuman skills with a splash of comedy. Sasuke is a tribute to a Japanese love affair with fitness and competition, and G4 does a pretty good job of keeping their airing of the show true to form.
For the uninitiated, the show is a series of obstacle courses. It presents challenges that call for agility and strength. The people who tend to persevere are Olympic gymnasts, professional athletes, and then a handful of "normal" people who have devoted their lives to training for the course. These normal people quit their jobs, build courses in their own backyards and train endlessly to run them. I'm pretty hooked on those stories, part of my fascination for people with passion. I've never been that dedicated to anything, and sometimes that makes me feel inadequate, but in the end, always a bit relieved. I watch these people move through obstacles like the Warped Wall and the Quintuple Step and I want them to make it, and of course, I wonder how I would fare in their shoes.
A friend at G4 sent an email that said the network was going to be setting up a simulated course in Santa Monica on a Saturday morning, and encouraged fans of the show to come out and get a chance to run it themselves. The day I got that email, I started training. I knew that I needed to build up my endurance and stamina. I have not-too-shabby upper body strength for a girl who doesn't hit the gym, and my legs are strong from horseback riding, but the muscles work differently than they do for other activities. The problem is... nothing in the mid-section of my body was prepared for a physical challenge! I needed to turn it out in a hurry. I started running, stretching, doing isometric exercises, and learning how to engage my reluctant core. There were about 11 days total of training, some more effective than others, but it felt pretty great to get moving and knowing that my body was changing for the better. As Saturday approached I felt like I was in better shape to give the course a good effort, even if I wasn't prepared to run up the sides of buildings or jump across rooftops.
Saturday morning David, Graham and I headed for the ocean. Buff Monster was going to meet us there to take a shot at the course as well. As we found our way to the back of the line that was forming around the course, we passed by production trailers, Venom Energy drink hype-models, a friend from the barn, and numerous parkour/free running enthusiasts plotting out the course. There was a host from G4 there emceeing the event, not someone I would recommend for your own interactive public event, but she looked good behind a microphone, and the G4 crowd didn't seem to take too much notice of the jokes at their expense. Hot chicks can get away with that kind of thing. The first 4 hours there were spent watching people who weren't standing in the line around the barrier, run the course. It was becoming clear that this event was set up to promote the new season of Ninja Warrior by letting fans of the show watch G4 employees run the course. The crowd was not pleased.
It was hot with nothing to drink but Venom, we were anxious, and I was feeling like my training had all been for a frozen pipe dream that I could taste, but never lick and get my tongue stuck to. The line had been scattered and separated by passers-by cutting in to get a sideline view of the course, and it seemed like there was no end to the waiting. There were no interns or PA's getting people lined up and registered to run the course, the breaks between course runners could last between 60 seconds and 16 minutes, and as the time on my parking meter ran out, I felt like my patience had too.
Having friends in high places is always nice, but there's always an awkward time when you aren't sure if what was offered was a promise, a suggestion, or just another dangling carrot. This was one of those moments. I tried to stay objective, but my disappointment kicked my objectivity's ass, hardcore. I got pouty, dejected, and started talking to my crew about just bailing and going home. There were melodramatic details I won't go into, but in the end, two out of the three of us were rushed into the middle of the line to run the course. David moved my car from the meter to the parking lot, and I worked on losing the blues and building up the excitement again!
Eventually, Buff and I were in line between two mega-fan parkour dudes, and a couple of super-fans (because there is a difference between super and mega) behind us who just seemed really determined to kick ass. Ahead of all of us in line were more G4 employees, and then a crop of guys who had flown to LA from Mississippi and other places in different time zones, camped out in line at 4 am, and were more distraught than I was at the thought of not being able to run the course before it was shut down at 4 pm. The whole crowd was super stoked when these kids finally made it to the black astro-turf of the course. Best of all, these guys did really well running it!
A bunch of the people that were at the front of the line (the gen pub) line were die-hards, and also regular posters on the G4 message boards. They do a much better job of documenting the day than I can on the Ninja Warrior threads, and these are people who trained a lot more than 11 days... In retrospect, I'd rather have given up my spot in the line to let more of those guys get a chance at getting in, but you know what? I'm still really happy I gave it a try!
My run was pretty sad though... I couldn't reach the blocks for the first challenge, had to climb the scaffolding to make it up to the pipe slider, then I got stuck and had to drop to move on, fell off the cliff hanger, faked the spider walk, and by the time I got to the warped wall, I was finished. Without my glasses on, the drop in to the warped wall seemed ankle break-y, and I just kinda jogged back and forth on it until people finally stopped telling me to keep going.
You can see my story (somewhat edited) in photos here by Graham. In review I now know that instinctively, my body does nothing to propel itself forward when asked, and locking your knee when you fall from 7 or 8 feet up is not a good idea when you're trying to land on your feet.
Buff did a tremendous job on the course. He ran after I did, and was given a special helmet cam to capture his run. He totally destroyed on every challenge, but when he got to the warped wall, he could touch the top of the wall, but couldn't get a hold of it to pull himself over. For a guy who had never trained for this course, or anything like it, I was totally blown away, and SO proud. I'm pretty sure that Buff was meant to run the course before me, but being the friend that he is, he let me go first since he knew how excited I was to run it. Now, maybe he just knew that he was going to kick ass on it, and didn't want me to feel like a total loser. *sniff* Truly though, I was so proud of him for trying it out and doing great. I was proud of myself too, but I would have been a lot prouder if I could have made it through at least ONE challenge. *sob. sniff*
There was much suffering on Saturday. I hyper-extended my knee, Buff twisted an ankle, and David got a terrible sunburn, but all in all it was a pretty great weekend for me. My knee is all healed up now, and I'm slowly getting back into the "training" program I was in before the run on the course.
Maybe by the time the footage from American Ninjafest 4 actually airs on June 21st, I'll be able to do two whole pull ups and run a 2 minute mile!
I thought my next blog post was going to be a massive thank you to everyone who participated and publicized the fund-raising auction, and I hate to to take away from that, but then yesterday happened. The picture above is the last one to be taken of him.
As I had to with Esther, I set some ground rules for the end. Praxis had to have the desire to eat, get up on his own, and keep his curly tail up and his eyes bright. If those things slipped away, I needed to let Praxis go. With his body being filled up with cancer I couldn't see, I needed to know when enough was enough for him. Yesterday two of those three things were gone, and I spent the whole day agonizing over how to move forward. Praxis' breathing was labored, all day long. When he wasn't coughing the hacking cough he's had for the last couple of months, he paced around the room restlessly, panting until he exhausted himself and fell into a deep sleep. The sleeping didn't last long, maybe 10 minutes, and then he was back to pacing, coughing and panting. Every cough hurt me too, and as I called City of Angels to see if I could bring Praxis in, I knew that this was a turning point.
My good friend and neighbor, Jeannette called me to see how I was doing, knowing that Praxis was having a hard day, and volunteered to take me to the vet. I took her up on her offer. I was alone when I put Esther to sleep, but I wasn't sure that I could make it home okay if I had to let Praxis go. City of Angels called back and Dr. Rosenberg told me that she would stay late for us to see what Praxis was up against. Jeannette got to my house and I carried Praxis to her car, laid him on my chest and we started the drive to Culver City.
As soon as I was in the door, the staff at City of Angels were on their feet. I handed Praxis off and went into the back, where only Praxis had ever been with the vet techs, and within seconds, 6 people were present to assist with an oxygen mask, heart monitor, and hands ready to help. Praxis was in the middle of a coughing fit when he came in, and everyone was there to help him. Dr. Rosenberg asked me to go up front by his head to calm him, and let him know I was there. I held his head in my hands and tried to bring him back down. Dr. Rosenberg listened to his chest, which gave off a rattle with every short breath, and asked to do a chest x-ray. A month before, I had passed on an earlier chest x-ray to save money for chemo after a discussion with one of his doctors. It was clear then, that regardless of what the mass in his chest looked like, the chemo was the best way to bring it back into remission. I was faced with a choice between an expensive x-ray or spending what I had then on chemo. The whole process of chemotherapy has been a balancing act - deciding what road to go down with the resources available. Gambling with the therapies and hoping that the one we chose would be the one his body needed to beat the cancer.
The chest x-ray showed that not only had the mass in his chest reappeared, but some fluid had entered into one of the lobes of his lungs. He was still getting enough oxygen, he was working furiously with his breathing to get it, but the process was making him miserable. For a moment we talked about options - radiation therapy, or the introduction of new protocols that Praxis had not been exposed to yet. I was open to hear anything Dr. Rosenberg put out there, but all I wanted to do for Praxis was find out what would make him feel better right then and there. That option didn't exist. The radiation would put a strain on Praxis, when he wasn't in a stable place, and just like the chemotherapy, there was no guarantee of any positive effect against the cancer. Eventually we would back where we were and this decision would have to be made again.
Unless I could take Praxis' pain away, I didn't want to put him through anything more. I felt like he was gone already. He seemed far away from me, all he could do was fight for breath, and when he could stop, he wouldn't make eye contact and only wanted to sleep. It hurt to hear each breath, and I knew that I had to let him go.
The staff and Dr. Rosenberg took us to a more comfortable room with a sofa, chair, and rug. There was a small fountain in the corner, and I thought about how many hearts had been broken in this space. Somehow, it didn't feel poisoned by loss, but as soon as that door opened, I felt time moving away from me.
I got on the floor with Praxis, trying to keep him horizontal, but cradled, to keep him from coughing again. I had him stretched out on my lap, and curled over him. I held him as tightly as I could, and soaked his head in tears. I could feel myself inhaling his fur, and my legs were falling asleep, but all I could think about was the time that was slipping away from me. Moving would cause him the discomfort that would trigger his coughing and it wasn't a sound I could bear hearing again. If he was leaving, I wanted him to leave without anymore pain. I was torn between wanting to get up and run out of the room with him, and wanting them to walk in the door that second and take his pain away. Every time my mind moved between those places, I broke down some more. There was nothing in the world except for Praxis. I only remembered that Jeannette was there, or that my phone was sounding off with thoughtful and concerned messages from friends, when I lifted my head from Praxis' and caught a breath of air. I needed reality though.. to remember why were there. Why this decision had been made.
When they came into the room and asked if we were ready, I remember saying yes. If you gave me another 15 years with Praxis, I still wouldn't have been ready to let him go, but I felt like there was nothing else I could do. I had to move Praxis around a bit, being careful to keep him from coughing. The first attempts at getting the needle into a vein were kind of terrible. He kept pulling his leg back, trying to fight what was happening. If he had been more present in that moment I would have felt like he was afraid. His eyes were so dull though... everything was already gone from them.
Eventually the needle was in. Under sedation, I felt him sigh as the drug slowed his panting. I held him tighter and tighter, knowing that in seconds he was going to be gone completely. With the struggling breath gone, I could finally feel his heartbeat. I closed my eyes as Dr. Rosenberg said the second injection was coming and clung onto Praxis. I wanted to freeze that moment, with Praxis heavy in my arms but still breathing. As soon as I thought of holding on, he was already gone. His body became heavy in my arms, and his life melted away from his body, and from me.
I sat there with him for a long time... I'm not sure how long it was. I felt him get heavier, and watched the color leave his skin. He went from pink, to white, and I became afraid. Knowing that the last of the oxygen in his body was gone meant that I was finally alone. I was afraid to move him. I knew that his body would eliminate whatever was left inside of him. I lifted his face and chest up, to see his face again and felt a wetness on my leg. It was time to let him go. Jeannette went to get someone there to take him. She told me later that they said I should leave him there. Without having to ask, she knew that I couldn't leave him. She gave me more time with him, and then went out to get help again. Eventually they came in, and I got up off the ground with Praxis in my arms, and handed him over.
I slept in fits and starts lastnight. I got calls from friends and family, and while I knew I wasn't alone, I felt lonelier than I had in a very long time. There was a silence in the house that was cold, and that coldness was inside of me as well.
Today has felt like sleepwalking. I want to be able to immerse myself in memories of Praxis, and pay tribute to the love he gave me, and brought into my life, but I can't get away from feeling crippled without him. I hope that writing about yesterday will help me move through this feeling, and into the place where I can open up without feeling raw. To survive this, I need to figure out how to let my memories of him give me strength instead of sadness.
A sincere and grateful thank you to everyone who has ever said a kind word about Praxis, given him a loving pat on the head, held him, or let him shed his fuzz all over their lap. A thank you to everyone who took interest in the fundraiser that not only helped him, but other dogs (and human friends) who are walking down the same path we just stepped off of. A thank you to everyone who texted, called, emailed and sent a thought our way yesterday. A thank you to Jeannette for being a strong and true friend during an incredibly difficult time.
A thank you to my Dad who brought Praxis into my life, and most heartfelt of all thanks to Praxis for giving me 15 years of love, loyalty, kindness, patience and joy. You're still here, but only because knowing, loving and caring for you has become a part of who I am. At your kindest and gentlest, I was reminded how to be compassionate and patient. You never gave me a moment of anger or frustration, and you were there to give me comfort through my lowest lows and share excitement through my highest highs. There's never going to be another dog like you, and I'm sure I'll learn how to be grateful for having you for a short time instead of wanting more, but seems like the hardest thing in the world to do right now.
