Full Circle

I switched the radio as I drove the 60 westbound towards my office to NPR because I didn’t feel like bothering with a podcast or listening to all the NFL games rehashed ad nauseam.  They said a killer had mowed down some 40 or more people and injured hundreds of others at the Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas.  My Aunt works in that casino as a Pit Boss.  So as I listened to details I became increasingly concerned. 

 

A couple of years ago she had gotten me passes to go see some singer at “The Beach,” at Mandalay Bay.  I remember watching and listening to the show and looking back up over my shoulder at the façade of the hotel with all those windows where anyone might be looking down on the spectacle, perhaps unable to hear the music.  I imagined this shooter spraying The Beach with so many bullets from an AK-47.  I thought of my Aunt, who is as fun loving a person as there is, and her affinity for country music and how she always ends up getting a picture with the celebrity who happens into the casino.  (Just a couple of weeks earlier she could be seen on Facebook with one of the big boxers and a couple of years ago when my beloved Kings won the Stanley Cup she sent me pictures of her with one of our players a few days after the victory.) 

 

I worried she might have been there.  I did not yet know the event the monster aimed his weapon at was across the street.  So I called.  No answer.  I texted her: “Aunt Laura-I trust you are okay?”  Nothing.  I called again, this time not leaving a voice mail.  Then after some more driving as I arrived at work I texted her eldest son, my cousin Frank: “Cousin.  Have you heard from your Mom?”  He said he was calling her right then.  I responded by telling him I had called-no answer.  I said it was probably a crazy scene and maybe she had only gotten to bed a couple of hours ago and so she was probably sleeping. 

 

Frank called me 90 minutes later.  He said he had spoken to his youngest brother, Vinny, and that Aunt Laura was fine.  When she was evacuated, he said, they did not let her go get her purse or her cell phone or anything…

 

It was an odd couple of hours to start the day.  I consumed the requisite news stories about the person, the victims and the events around the tragedy.  I knew my Aunt was okay.  I expected she was inside the casino and not across the street at a country music concert.  Still, I contemplated her death and I contemplated my own death and I considered so many deaths and I struggled with the tragedy that was. 

 

I imagined this destroyer and I wondered what he was like as a boy.  He was 64, I thought?  64?  I had rage all the way to 40 and I think I was an outlier.  Men should be angry in their 20s but 64?  What was he like as a child?  Was he a demon-seed?  Did he know laughter and the unbearable lightness of being?  Did he love?  Was he loved?  I mean real love-did he ever feel like he would die for someone if it came down to it, if a deranged man was shooting from atop a perch into a crowd for example?  Did he ever love someone like that?  

 

I don’t want to think of this ghoul of a man as simply that.  I don’t want to just say, evil, and let it be that.  I don’t want to earmark as monster and move on.  I want the gun control but gun control is certainly not enough for me.  When he was a baby was he evil?  When he soldiered into his 1^st grade classroom sans his mama was he a monster then, too?  When he had his first kiss?  I can’t humanize what is  human.  I want to know what happened.  I am quite sure as a baby he just wanted love and to give love back.  What the fuck happened to a man that he meticulously plans to amass a stockpile of artillery in a hotel room for the purpose of reigning fire down upon the heads of so many human revelers, out for the evening with their favorite partners and friends, enjoying the end of Summer with the soundtrack of their lives, killing them en masse?  What twisted him and made him into such an aberration?

 

I felt relief from the mounting tension when I did not know.  I eased back into a project I was working on and finally made some progress.  Right around lunchtime a coworker walked into my office and informed me Tom Petty had died.  Tom Petty, I marveled?  Hadn’t I just watched like a 4-hour documentary on this guy a few months ago on Netflix?  Wasn’t he relatively young?  I googled and quickly discovered it was true.  Cardiac arrest.  Death in heaping portions this morning. 

 

Thing is I am not a big Tom Petty enthusiast.  I think of Refugee as a classic song for sure.  A couple of others were good.  I had put American Girl on a cd we played during childbirth for Terra.  Still, death is.  Tom Petty, cut down at 66.

 

Later after picking up the kids from school on the drive home I played a song by REM; The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonight.  Those lyrics.  I explained to Mark in the back seat who Michael Stipe is.  I said this singer is kind of retired now as he’s getting a bit long of tooth, (Mark loves when I use outdated colloquialisms.)  Mark liked the song, which pleased me to no end. 

 

When Mark or Terra likes the song I feel capable of living on.  When I read those rock and roll biographies there is always that step dad who turned Jeff Buckley on to led Zeppelin at an early age, or the Dad who loved opera, or what have you.  I think of my own Dad and how born again he was and opposed to all things rock and roll, but every now and then he would let it slip.  What?!  His favorite song when he was in high school was Time is on My Side by the Stones?!  Or when Bob Dylan went all Christian I discovered he knew all these songs I had never heard of.  Everybody Must Get Stoned, indeed…

 

This is life.  These are the things of life.  And now that Michael Stipe is retired, now that my occasional glimpse is limited to him popping up all tarot card Hermit looking on Stephen Colbert’s show to sing a duet with the host.  Now that I ponder this great American Singer, and think back to the time he wore all those t-shirts on the VMA's, or consider how fiercely private he is about aspects of his life.  I realize now that my respect for Michael Stipe is nothing short of love.  It is ardor and adoration for sure but it is love.  There are a million possibilities for how one conducts himself in public or how one accepts celebrity.  Michael Stipe’s way has been one of utter integrity.

 

Michael Stipe once said his favorite REM song was Fall On Me.  That is my favorite REM song, too.  It is a simply profound protest.  As we headed home I sang along knowing Mark was memorizing lyrics.  He has a gift for that, I think. 

 

“Today I need something more sub-sub-sub-substantial,” I sang.  “A can of beans or black-eyed peas, some Nescafe and ice.”  It felt good to sing these words.  I had not listened to this song in forever.  REM, such artists.  Incorporating The Lion Sleeps Tonight, into their modern pop song and also drawing on myriad references from Americana and life in these times.  “A candy bar, a falling star, or a reading of Dr. Seuss.”  At the mention of Dr. Seuss a mass of emotion roiled in my stomach and chest suddenly, like nausea or joy or a car crash.  I reached inward past the wave of emotion to draw the composure I needed to stifle my Mini breakdown. 

 

I know the reference to Dr. Seuss piqued Mark’s interest.  I could see he was listening intently back there.  Terra was listening too but Mark was dialed in and I know this reference to someone he knows and appreciates resonated with him even if he did not quite understand the context.  

 

So it was I drove down Santa Anita Avenue stifling the urge to cry.  I would cry because I love my son and I want to influence him so positively.  My ego would also cry at the longing to be remembered.  I would cry because Michael Stipe is a beautiful, dignified man of the world I too, inhabit.  I would cry for my Aunt, who continues to be of my closest family and my primary link to a Mother who departed a long, long time ago.  I would cry at the thought of my Aunt crying until noon the following day.  (Her heart is tender-she has always cried so easily.)  I would cry for so many victims, too many victims, lives cut short and interrupted by dark, random chaos, by deep psychosis.  I would cry for their people, so angry and confused and disillusioned and, angry.  And sadsad.  Profoundly sad.  Depression…  I would cry too upon hearing the stories of people who held dying strangers for two hours as they slowly succumbed.  I could cry at the remarkable beauty, the random acts of love seen or unseen but always there with our kind.  I would cry at the consideration of how a person takes on such darkness, contemplates such evil and acts upon it. 

 

The kids asked a few questions about the horror in Las Vegas.  Terra shared something she heard from one of the youth leaders at the Y.  I explained that the shooter was obviously ill in a way that is hard to comprehend and I let them know Aunt Laura was okay.  I showed them the picture of my Aunt next to the CNN reporter in the aftermath.  Terra asked if the reporter interviewed her.  Mark did not recognize Aunt Laura.  And so it is emotional days happen...

Aunt Laura behind reporter mid-evacuation

In the aftermath if I cry I will cry from counting my blessings.  I will cry at the richness of life that is my children and my career and my avocations. I will cry at my good health.  I will cry at the luxury of crying.   I will cry at the knowledge that Everybody Hurts.

 

sometimes

sometimes i feel like tom cruise in minority report. remember how he would watch the film footage of his son over and over and replay the day he went missing and all its events again and again in his mind? remember how agonizing it was for him and even for you as the viewer, how you felt for him?

sometimes i see pictures of my kids and i feel like that. i feel like tom cruise, viewing the pictures as if separated from mark and terra, (as i am by work and obligation and school and a day’s activities, and any physical distance.) i long for them and i fear for them.

i don’t fear some horrific thing happening to them. (i merely rely on odds and karma to hope that stuff away, along with some vigilance.) i fear the world and all its cruelties, all its rude awakenings, all its unkind moments, its puppy love and encounters with policemen, its realizations about the system and money and how things work.

it’s funny, too, my little creatures could hardly be more selfish. it seems seeking one’s own is definitely a natural state and so i am helping them to learn the value of considering others. they fight amongst themselves and it is always the one against the other and of course, my six-year-old is more cunning than my four-year-old although he has some tricks of his own. it is interesting though because generally speaking they both are highly attuned to possessions and materials. they want stuff and they want to declare ownership of that stuff even if it’s not theirs but is merely in their possession in a given moment.

it is a complex dynamic this need to want or want to need and i think the buddha and jesus and perhaps even allah would agree with me on this one, (though i am not well versed on the tenets of the koran,) it is worth trying to overcome it. you see, when one is able to set that stuff aside, the petty wanting of a child, it seems to me they are free to become great and by great I mean, wholly kind, beautifully productive, givers and creators.

i look at those pictures of my children. i see mark grimacing over his mother’s shoulder dismayed at the sight of a camera staring at him and i can see what he wants more than any other thing. he wants to be loved. and, he wants to love. he wants to be considered and he wants harmony with his surroundings. he has zero malice in him. zero, in spite of the times when he may hit at school or refuse to share. those are the meanderings of a child trying to find his place, trying to know his boundaries and learn where his wants and needs should end and where the wants and needs of others, perhaps, should begin.

it is as true with terra too. i have a picture of her from the same day, when we visited the snow. she did not want to be bothered to pose for the picture but graciously she turned to me and made the best smile she could which ended up being super cute actually. it was different. it was accommodating, a sly tilt of the head accompanied by pursed lips turned up slightly at the corner and terra’s wide, curious eyes. she could not be more graceful if her name was audrey hepburn.


and that picture too, hurts. it is a reminder of all i have, all that could be lost if tragedy struck or i screwed up. it is a healthy reminder of everything i need to live up to on a daily basis. if it makes me cry it is from joy and pressure and a will to be as perfect a dad as i can possibly be, (knowing i have fallen far short of perfection so many times.)

terra, too, is angelic by nature. while she does seek her own it is because she is a child and lacks experience. i have no doubt when she grows into the woman she will become she will be a wonderful citizen of the world. unlike mark she is not prone to say “i love you.” she says it but with her actions. she is fluent in chinese and so I know the gobs of money I am spending on her private schooling is not for naught. she works hard at her homework. when she is scolded she takes it personally and feels genuinely bad for her shortcoming.

we were on a trip recently and found ourselves sharing a bed and at 5am mark popped awake like an early bird ready for a worm. he went to the bathroom and when he returned i asked him to snuggle up with me and try to rest a bit longer. as he put his head in the crook of my arm and looked indiscriminately up at the ceiling he had this comment for me; “daddy, when you are mad at me it feels like you don’t love me.” (is that heartbreaking or what?)

i know that question was a product of my imperfection. i know there have been times when my patience was in short supply and mark was being, well, four, and i expressed anger and frustration and in my eyes he saw utter disregard, (which in this gray world and that split second was 100% accurate.) i told him i always love him and that i was angry but i am just trying to help him be the best mark he can be. he seemed to accept that.

the thing is i am different than john anderton, (tom cruise's character.) i have not lost my children. i have them and i want to cherish them everyday. but i can relate to that feeling cruise's character represents. it's not something i dwell on but when they are not around and i look at a picture, i long to have them near me, which just feels more natural than whatever i am doing, more right. the pictures are bittersweet. they are memories. i love them even though they injure me ever so slightly.

fear

no fear.

don't fear the reaper.

fear not.

fear and loathing.

fear the lord thy god.

fear. fear. fear.

fear [feer]

noun

a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid.
a specific instance of or propensity for such a feeling: an abnormal fear of heights.
concern or anxiety; solicitude: a fear for someone's safety.
reverential awe; esp. toward god.
that which causes a feeling of being afraid; that of which a person is afraid: cancer is a common fear.
-verb (used with object)
to regard with fear; be afraid of.
to have reverential awe of.
-verb (used without object)
to have fear; be afraid.

i can imagine no condition i disdain more than the state of fear. teaching my children to fear fear and fight fear and avoid fear and challenge fear is one of my primary responsibilities as a parent.

it is the single worst thing i have ever felt. moreover, it is easily the most stultifying feeling one can harbor. i've heard some parents consciously or subconsciously hope their children do not surpass them in certain ways, (i guess the ways that are most important to them?) perhaps they do not want to be outdone by their children from a severe insecurity. that very idea is abominable.

fear comes naturally in this world. as possibly the only species on the planet with self awareness, the only creatures who know we are dying, who understand the consequences of living, who must face down the fear of our own demise either sooner or later, we have a unique relationship with fear.

i am a-scurred, too. i am afraid of things so seriously that i will not even utter what they are for fear of giving them an upper hand. (i suppose it's that old mock the devil and he will flee thing.) fear is my worst me. any prejudices i ever had were born of fear. any childish beliefs came from a basic fear, a basic fear i was born with. when i was a child i was afraid of the darkness. i feared nightly. i was afraid of getting lost in downtown la after that happened to me once. i feared brutal stepdads. i was afraid of failure, (still am.) i was afraid of success. (yeah, still am that, too.) and so on...

if i want to be my best me, i recognize that the absence of fear is a basic starting point for me. i think it is for everyone, too. whatever scares should be debunked and demystified. if foolish consistencies are the hobgoblin of little minds, the most foolish consistency of all is the act of allowing fear to persist.

do you fear terrorism? are you afraid of bullies or ghosts? does the concept of a hell bother you? does cancer scare you? heart attack? impotence? old age? lost youth? traffic collisions? government conspiracies? random violence? getting caught? your dad? guns? your boyfriend's wife? the number 13? what is it? whatever it is i hope you vanquish it.

i think as we age our fears create our illnesses. whatever we fear that is able to gain some dominion over us leads to those ways in which we become twisted. maybe it leads to physical debilitation but what seems obvious is that fear leads to mental and emotional instabilities, which can in turn lead to real psychoses.

i think it is always important to be on one's guard from fears. for me to live a healthy life i think i must try hard to render my fears powerless, recognize them for what they are, deconstruct them, then proceed in the knowledge learned unafraid.

and so it is with my kids. i want them to be fearless. i want them to be respectful, but fearless. as it is i do not allow terra to be afraid. she suggested she was afraid of the dark at one time. she said she was afraid of monsters. she said she was scared of the noises outside at night. every time i heard something like that from her i scoffed. i explained it was natural to worry about those things, (and terra is certainly one who worries about new concepts,) but that ultimately we could know certain things about what scares us. when she feared the dark at bedtime i asked her if every morning she woke and everything was fine and she confirmed the truth in that statement. when she expressed her fear of earthquakes one night recently after seeing some images from haiti at school, as she cried over something that is actually worthy of some real concern, (concern, not fear,) i spoke to her of odds. she did not understand odds. so i appealed to her sense of trusting mommy and daddy to do everything humanly possible to keep her safe, which pacified her. since then the subject has come up a couple of times if briefly, which tells me she still has some fear about earthquakes but i feel like we're working on it. we are a team, her mother, mark, me and her. we are always at work on dispelling our collective fears. i am hopeful one day as i lay on my death bed she will be there, she will be brave and thereby show me she is prepared to endure without me, and she will console me and i will die in peace knowing full well that we are and have been dignified creatures.

i'll tell you one thing i am afraid of. i am afraid of terra and mark someday harboring many and sundry fears. as one who admits the influence of conditioning, i in no way think my children are immune from the maladies of the evening local news. rather i believe it is my daily duty, my life's work, my most noble charge to help them combat fears of all types. in this way, if i am successful in my small role in mark's and terra's sphere of influence, my babies can live healthy lives, daring greatly, perhaps failing from time to time but achieving too and accomplishing balance in their lives.

fdr said it. right? "there is nothing to fear but fear itself." respect-yes. but fear? no. it is a sad state, a bad way to spend one's life, every bit as unfortunate as poverty or physical debilitation.

Happy 3rd Birthday, Mark Dylan James!

this is mark's pre-school class singing happy birthday to him first in english then in mandarin. terra skipped over from her kindergarten class and joined in the singing and can be seen right behind mark.

happy birthday little guy. december 18th.

ttj & pj

i decided to take terra to see pearl jam because i just thought it would be so cool to see them with her. so, on wednesday, october 7th, 2009, at the gibson amphitheatre, four days short of turning five-years-old, terra tresina james went to see pearl jam with her father.

my earliest memories are from when i was four-and-a-half-years-old and they are the same earliest memories i had when i was eight-years-old, which makes them seem somehow more significantly significant. it seems there are moments i recall vividly from my life and they are those moments of unadulterated joy or some kind of trauma. my single earliest memory is from when i was discovered and sent home from kindergarten for being four. my grandpa had thought i could pass for five and get a jump on my education, (or else it was the cheapest babysitting option.)

i thought taking terra to pearl jam would be one of those memorable moments and the thought of terra at 12-years-old telling me her earliest memory was of the night we went to pearl jam is at once compelling and sublime. and this is how the idea of taking terra to see eddie vedder, mike mccready, jeff ament, stone gossard and matt cameron, came about.

since the day i bought the tickets faith and i have been telling terra about the show. we told her the story of how she had one day deliriously asked to hear "heady betty," while being put into her carseat for a long drive and how we knew she was about to fall asleep. she had been fighting it. but she implored us to hear heady betty and we looked it each other completely at a loss-who was this heady betty? terra whined as i put in some cd that was not the sought after mr. betty. and within a half-mile of where we started, terra knocked out. the next day faith and i were back in the truck and i decided to throw on the soundtrack of 'into the wild,' by eddie vedder. faith looked at me and said, "heady betty is eddie vedder."

"heady betty is eddie vedder," i thought?"

"heady betty is eddie vedder," i yelped out loud. oh damn, this cracked me up.

anyway, terra loved 'big hard sun,' the most. usually when she wanted to hear it she would say "big hard sun." but just the day before she had said "heady betty," instead, and so eddie vedder became heady betty in our house.

add to these reasons the fact that i adore pearl jam, that of all artists perhaps eddie vedder, because he is from southern california and seems to speak in a language i understand, and you see i have a few good reasons for taking terra to see pearl jam.

on the way i over in the truck i told terra everything that would be happening in our evening. i explained the drive, the parking, the walk through universal city walk, how many people would be there, how loud it would be, ben harper and pearl jam. i wanted her to be devoid of fear and she was. she had pink ear plugs for the evening.

we say "wide-eyed," because we have seen little, five-year-old girls walking universal city walk amidst 40-foot neon signs and video billboards showing live ac/dc footage, or something similar.

terra could not have been more cute. she was so brave.

during the show eddie vedder made a few comments of a political nature, which is one of those things i appreciate about him. he talked about a documentary film he had seen that morning called 'the cove.' he said it was about the hunting of dolphins and that he had been anxious to get to the show that evening because he had watched people at their worst and by way of complimenting the band's fan base he said, here he would feel among the best of humans, (or, something to that effect, anyway.)

as terra and i found our door to the theater, we saw a dad and a daughter near terra's age sitting on a cushioned bench in the lobby. they looked at us and we looked at them oddly, as if peeking through a portal at our doppelgangers from a couple years hence. (the dad looked a couple years older than me and the girl was probably seven.) i nodded and feigned an imperceptible smile. terra and the girl locked gazes, which showed signs of kinship and curiosity, and we scooted past and into the theater to watch a few songs by ben harper and relentless seven.

later, after a break to pick up some water and licorice, we passed the same dad and daughter again and this time terra waved and the other little girl waved right back and smiled wide. (later terra told her mom the girl was a little bit bigger than her.)

as we sat chomping on licorice i told terra how loud and exciting things were about to become and i reminded her of the few pearl jam songs she actually knows a bit. david was at the show and visited us between acts. i think terra was even more comfortable having seen david's familiar face.

pearl jam came out rocking then pulled it back a bit for a few less aggressive songs. their ninth song of the evening was evenflow, (truly a hard rocker.) of all songs, this was the one that drove terra to sleep. i held her in my arms the entire show, switching her from side to side many times, and during evenflow her head slowly fell forward into my cheek.

the first time it happened she looked up at me and said, "is it time to go home?"

the second time she fell harder and i had to pull her up higher on my hip and she looked at me with heavy eyes and said, "can we go home now?"

it kind of broke my heart that i did not immediately say yes. she was, after all, so tired. instead i told her we would go soon but asked her to hang in there for just a couple more songs. she said okay then she wrapped her arms around my neck and put her head on my shoulder and checked out. i stood for a couple of songs then i sat and just held terra and enjoyed the music.

during this time they played a favorite song of mine; wishlist. it is a sweet and tender song of longing.

Wishlist
Artist: Pearl Jam
Composer: Vedder
I wish I was a neutron bomb, for once I could go off I wish I was a sacrifice, but somehow still lived on I wish I was a sentimental ornament you hung on The Christmas tree, I wish I was the star that went on top I wish I was the evidence, I wish I was the grounds For 50 million hands upraised and open toward the sky
I wish I was a sailor with someone who waited for me I wish I was as fortunate, as fortunate as me I wish I was a messenger and all the news was good I wish I was the full moon shining off your Camaro's hood
I wish I was an alien at home behind the sun I wish I was the souvenir you kept your house key on I wish I was the pedal brake that you depended on I wish I was the verb 'to trust' and never let you down
I wish I was a radio song, the one that you turned up I wish...I wish...

terra fell asleep during the ninth song and we walked out of the theater during the 18th song, (spin the black circle.) the setlist from the evening revealed they walked off stage after the very next song, (porch,) then returned for two encores.

i sent david a text message right when i got home and just said i hoped ben harper did not come back out and join the band onstage for 'indifference.' i have seen this occur on a dvd i have of pearl jam at madison square garden and it is an especially nice rendition of a deep and heartfelt song. david did not comment. the next day he told me he did not have the heart to tell me that was exactly how they ended their show.

i carried terra out of the theater, back through the long walkway to the front gate, down the city walk where i had to move her off my my injured shoulder and on to the other shoulder at which point she woke briefly and looked around at desolation in neon then quickly went back to snoozing, into the parking structure to the far side where i had parked. i laid her in her car seat and buckled her in, ecstatic at how completely fulfilling life can be in moments.

i worked so hard for this evening. as opposed to relaxing to the max at entertainment such as this by having beers and tweaking my state of mind a little bit, i watched over my daughter. i had the best upper body workout i have had in years as i held terra for literally hours in my arms. carrying her the quarter mile or so from seats to truck was a trial but when i buckled her into her place there at the end, i felt like a champ. i was infused and invigorated by the energy of pearl jam's rock and roll and because of terra i felt connected and humble. the work only colored the reward more glorious.

joy

terra has moments when she thinks no one is watching and she is so excited and she clenches up her fists and shakes them in front of her in pure glee while she laughs or lets out some verbal expression of joy and i am always taken back to how i did the same thing regularly when i was a kid. in fact, i exclusively did that when i thought no one was looking. (perhaps when i was older i became less self-conscious about it.) it was like there was a bubble of joy welling up inside me and i could not contain it any longer so i would make those fists of happiness and clench up my face in a twisted smile and blood would rush to my head and i would shake with joy for just a moment. and afterwards, i felt better. it was like a nervous release. i had a tough childhood, (i know, who didn't,) so i learned early on to expect the worse. some bad things happened when i was young and in some cases, i had not the least expectation those bad things were coming my way until i was deeply entrenched in the circumstance, looking a monster in the teeth or realizing someone was not who they proclaimed to be or who they were supposed to be to me. so i remember my first christmas in particular with my aunt and uncle. instead of two presents, i received around 25. i must have did that thing i did, that clenching and shaking nervous joy thing, about 18 times over the next couple of days. it was a haze. and i don't guess i am capable of such joy today. those outer edges of mine emotion are hardly accessible and i feel good about that. in order to know that kind of joy gibran says we must know the same degree of pain and with that in mind, i find the middle comforting. i am glad terra mimics me in this way. for me it is an outward expression of our bond and our relationship and in a very simple way, it just makes me feel good. if i could do it on purpose, i would clench up my fists right now and turn them inward, forearms parallel to my body with fists just below my chin and i would shake them and smile and growl just a little bit. man that would feel good.