My Top 10 in 2007 Cinema

For those curious, here is a special added bonus. That's right! My Top Ten Favorite Movies of 2007.

Drumroll, please...

1. Zodiac
2. Juno
3. No Country for Old Men
   
4. Superbad
5. The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
6. Knocked Up
7. Stardust
8. Once
9. Across the Universe
10. Michael Clayton
    

****

So, okay. I still haven't seen "There Will Be Blood" from Paul Thomas Anderson, one of my all-time favorite directors (um, "Magnolia," anyone?!?!), or Sean Penn's "Into the Wild," so I may have to make some adjustments to The List in the coming weeks, but for now, it's pretty damn solid.

This was a fine year for cinema, if I must say.

Ooh Child

Jessie paint your pictures 'bout how it's gonna be.
By now I should know better, your dreams are never free.
"Jesse" by Joshua Kadison (1993)

The other night, I didn't include a someone in my list of friends. I'm here now to turn the spotlight on her.

Jess, I know that this is going to be a very, very difficult year for you, but you have so many people out there who love you, so many people out there who want you to be happy--truly happy, not just content. Sometimes, before you can achieve true happiness, you have to make difficult, shitty life-changing choices. And I know it would be so much easier to stick with the status quo and go with the flow. But you deserve more than just "the flow."

You deserve the world.

I remember this movie I watched, "The Weather Man" with Nicolas Cage and The Great Michael Caine (rent it--it's amazing!), had this wonderful bit of dialogue: "Do you know that the harder thing to do and the right thing to do are usually the same thing? Nothing that has meaning is easy. 'Easy' doesn't enter into grown-up life."

You can do this. I know it. Everyone knows it. And we are all here for you and we love you--especially me. And we're here to catch you when you fall.

You will weather this storm, babe.

You're Jess. You can do anything.

I know it and I know you know it, too.

A Long December

It was the best of times and the worst of times.

Indeed, 2007 started off with a bang.

When the clock struck midnight and the new year began, there was this...potential. I couldn't help smiling and crying tears of joy to myself because I was so happy. I was overwhelmed. I finally had someone to share a year with.

And then, after two months, it was ripped away. You know what it felt like? It's like that time in the morning when you're in bed, wrapped up in your warm blanket(s), so content--nothing could possibly be wrong or sad or depressing in that moment. The clock is out of view and you have no concept of time. You just hope that whatever you're feeling--the warmth, the serenity--lasts forever.

And then it happens....

BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!!

And then you're back to square one again--naked, cold, vulnerable and disoriented. And you have to wait what will feel like an eon until you get to experience that bliss again.

And I don't want people to get the wrong idea. No matter how things went down, I'll forever be grateful for the time I got with The Girl, Liz. And I hope one day, when I finally get all my shit together, I'll get another opportunity to be with someone special again. And maybe--just maybe--this one will stick.

Oh, and did I mention one of my best friends died, as well as my "grandpa?"

Alright, alright, alright. Enough is enough. This shit is depressing me and the only reason I'm bitching and moaning about it, after all this time, is because New Years Eve was last week and what used to be my favorite "holiday" has officially become my most dreaded and hated of all.

But let's move on to the good stuff, the best stuff. Because there's plenty of it, rather, them. Just to make things fair, I'll go with order of appearance.

Tina
Ya know, babe, technically, if I'm writing this blog about 2007, it really should be Courtney first on this list, since I became friends with her before you and I became best friends and eventual Co-Chairs of S.U.L.A.P. But <sigh> you insisted on being first. Who am I to deny you that? Especially when it's the truth. You. Are. First. I don't know what I'd do without you. We are so much alike and yet, we really are different. We are our own people with our own personalities. And the thing is, I think that's what leaves me so breathless and excited about our friendship. I love that each new day that goes by, I learn more and more about you. You have such a wonderful spirit. And you are just...good. I love you with all my heart. I couldn't have made it this year without you. And I want--I need--you to know that I will always, always, always be there for you. Through the good--because there is good in this world, no matter how cynical we can be--and the bad--because there will always be hurt and pain and sorrow. And as long as you're around, I know that nothing so horrible can ever beat the bright, shining faith and belief I have in you and me. I fucking hate you, douchette. ;o)~ (Inside joke, people...and yes, that is the one and only time I'll ever use an emoticon--pinky swear...with a kiss).

Courtney
You are special. I mean that in only one way--the best way. I know we don't talk all that much, but you are one of the best people I know. You're true to yourself and there's not one insincere, dishonest bone in your body. I know I can be a little strange and dorky at times--special, in the other sense of the word--but there's not a day that goes by that I don't thank G-d that you're in my life and for giving me such a fiercely loving and protective friend like yourself. And you're one helluva terrific, genuinely talented scribe. Thanks again for Lillie. It took a little time, but she's the light of my life. I love you.

Clark
I lucked into you, brother. I really did. You're such an amazing guy and a great friend. I just wish you knew that in your bones as much as I. I love reading your songs/poetry, your blog. You're so much better than you give yourself credit for. It's like you have this psychic link into what I'm thinking and/or feeling with those darn things. You have a giant heart and are amazing at bringing the funny wherever you go and cheering me up. In other words, you're my favorite half-Jew. As far as I'm concerned, you're Jewish as fuckin' Tevye!! Period.

Glen
It was such a Spur of the Moment thing, man. Justin and I needed to get a drink to drown our sorrows, way back in March, just a couple of days before my birthday. We were going to go to The Red Eye Tavern for a quick drink, possibly the Mai Tai. But on a whim, I said, "hey, let's go to this little bar I used to go to called The Eclipse. Little did I know, but I was about to run into my weakness. And you were the magic man to provide me with it. That's right: I've become a karaoke addict. I go where the music takes me. And it's all because of you, good sir. No, dude. I am forever grateful that I came by because I found a great friend in you. You're one of the smartest, sweetest guys I know. The fact that we can go head-to-head when it comes to vague pop culture references ("YOU'RE SO COOL, BREWSTER, AHAHAHAHA!!!!!") truly makes you the Burton "Gus" Guster to my Shawn Spencer. PSYCH!

Yes, I have more friends than the ones listed. These are just new faces that helped brighten my year.

Justin and Matteo, you guys are always on this list because there's not a day that goes by where my love for you as friends and as brothers never wanes.

Crystal, like my Partners in Crime mentioned directly above, you, too, are sort of grandfathered onto my list of friends, my little chickadee. it's been an adventure, this year, hasn't it? I know we went through a lot of shit, this year. I know that I may not always treat you as well as I should, but know that I always, always, always love you.

****

Where I go from here is anybody's guess--including mine. Truth is, at this point, I feel a little bit like Edward Norton's no-name character (or, "Jack," for those who feel a debate on the topic is necessary) at the end of "Fight Club," where he stands in shocked silence, watching the world outside his fortress of glass and concrete explode into chaos before his very eyes, not knowing what the future holds. Except, instead of a haggard, skanky misanthrope (in the form of the deliciously haggard, skanky Helena Bonham-Carter) at my side, I get a group of the best friends a guy like me could ever be blessed with. And the truth remains: You met me at a very strange time in my life.

Well, that and sometimes, I just need a little help from my friends.

Happy 2008. May it bring all of you happiness, love, laughter and the power to forgive and forget.

And, oh yeah...raincoats.

Because when it rains, it pours.

This Just In...!!!

Sometimes, it just pays to put up a fight. For proof of this, you need not look any further than the following e-mail I received this evening at 11:46 PM...

Dear Hal,

Congratulations! You’ve been accepted to the December 27- January 7th Israel Experience – “Hands-On” Israel/Koach Taglit-birthright israel trip (the official group name is IE-17-407. The gift of the Taglit-birthright israel trip includes roundtrip airfare from Logan Airport in Boston to Israel. You are responsible for the cost of transportation to and from that gateway. The Taglit-birthright israel gift also covers hotel, transportation, most meals and other associated land costs in Israel. Gratuities, personal purchases and supplementary travel medical insurance are not included. You are covered by an HMO-type medical insurance in Isra! el but it will not cover pre-existing conditions. We will request that you bring $60 in cash to cover gratuities to the guide and driver (we can’t mandate that you do so but it is highly suggested).

YOUR TRIP:

1. OUTBOUND TO ISRAEL
   1. Arkia flight # IZ636
   2. Departs December 27th from Logan Airport in Boston (this is a charter flight)
   3. Departure time is 11:00 AM

i. You are required to be at Logan Airport at 7:00 AM (If you are flying in from another city, please read the note below)

ii. IF YOU ARE CONNECTING TO LOGAN AIRPORT FROM ANOTHER AIRPORT

1. scheduled arrival time for your connecting flight can be no later than 4:00 AM

iii. Because this is a morning flight, you may need to arrange to be in Boston overnight to avoid missing the international flight.

2. INBOUND TO Boston
   1. Arkia flight # IZ635
   2. Arrives January 7th to Logan Airport in Boston
   3. Arrival time is 9:00 AM

i. IF YOU ARE CONNECTING TO ANOTHER CITY FROM LOGAN AIRPORT TO RETURN HOME

1. Allow yourself sufficient time to go through customs and immigration for your connecting flight

**PLEASE NOTE: THIS TRIP IS TRAVELLING ON A CHARTERED FLIGHT. Therefore, you do not have the option to extend your return ticket home.

Please check the My Trip page on a regular basis for updates of important information (suggested packing list, etc.). In the meantime, please let me know if any of you are on Facebook so we can set up a Facebook group to create the ‘group’ before you go!

IF YOU DO NOT YET HAVE YOUR PASSPORT IN HAND, MAKE SURE YOU FOLLOW UP ASAP – TIME IS RUNNING SHORT! YOU WILL FORFEIT YOUR DEPOSIT IF YOU ARE UNABLE TO GO BECAUSE YOU DON’T HAVE A VALID PASSPORT NUMBER IN THE SYSTEM AT LEAST WEEK BEFORE THE FLIGHT.

If you have any questions in the meantime, please feel free to contact me!

Rachel

****

I'll write more about this later, but I want to give a shout-out to those of you who told me not to back down and fight for this trip. Without your support, I most certainly would have just caved.

Anyway, so I guess that's that.

Long story short....

I'M GOING TO ISRAEL!!!!

A Reply to a Reply

I've decided to not go down without a fight with the Israel Idiots.

This was my response to my rejection letter. I honestly don't know if it will do any good, but the way I figure, at least I didn't just slink off into the shadows with my tail between my legs like an impotent dog. So, without further ado....

Rachel,

Thanks for your response. However, I would really like to know what criteria you based your decision on. After all, I did apply within the first week of registration opening.

I'm usually one to pick my battles, but I have to admit that I was troubled with Rabbi Cantor's line of questioning regarding the prescription drugs I take and the reasoning behind why I take them. I suffer from a minor case of OCD and as far as physical “disabilities” go, I walk slightly slower due to an illness I had as a child.

At one point, he asked me "so, are you going to see a psychologist for that?" A few moments later, he asked "how are you when it comes to hiking?” Despite my uneasiness answering such personal questions, I answered both of them honestly and politely. I do not see a psychologist for my OCD as it is a non-issue and I would be fine on hikes.

Not to mention the fact that he called me an hour earlier than when our appointment was scheduled, which left me feeling very uncomfortable as I had to walk away from my job to answer his questions. Apparently, there was a miscommunication regarding the time in that he was calling at 1:15 his time rather than my time; the latter time being one in which I had a half-hour break where I could talk.

Now, this is the last time I can participate in one of these trips as I turn 27 in March and I would hate to be excluded based on the fact that Rabbi Cantor thinks that I'm some sort of liability. I've worked very hard in overcoming the obstacles that have been placed in front of me over the course of my life.

Please get back to me regarding the reasons for this decision.

Thank you.

Regards,

Hal

****

*Sigh*

We shall see....

Oy Vey

I guess I should be surprised, but these days, nothing really surprises me.

I am 26 years old and as many of you readers already know, I was afflicted with French Polio when I was seven, rendering me paralyzed from the head down. I also suffer from Obsessive-Compulsive disorder.

Over the course of nearly 20 years, I have undergone overwhelming pain, emotional and physical, numerous surgeries and have won many battles, including the one for my mobility and strength. With that illness, came my fear of germs, getting sick as well as anxiety issues--my Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.

The latter, too, I have been fighting--and always will be fighting, I suppose--in order to function normally in my daily life; most recently, in the form of a medication called Effexor,

I strive, every day, to live a Normal Life and be healthy and happy and while I haven't exactly gotten that down to a science, I think I'm making leaps and bounds. In the course of 20 years, I am happy to say that I have never been discriminated against for my physical disability or my mental health.

That is, until today, when I was rejected by the geniuses behind the Taglit Israel Birthright program. Yes, that's right. I will not be going to Israel after all.

A recap: I applied for one of the Winter trips and, as I have mentioned, I did it about a week after registration opened. Like clockwork and as requested, I filled out the forms and surveys completely and efficiently. I was determined to go on my free trip to Israel. After all, it's the last time I'm eligible to participate in the program since I turn 27 in March and the age restriction is 18-26. I was ready to rock.

Which takes me to the interview with Rabbi Shalom Cantor (for all those Jews out there, there is definitely an inside joke with that last name, is there not?). He called me on Friday, October 26, when I was at work and could not answer the phone. He left a message, advising me that we needed to talk about "getting ready for the trip" and to call him back when I could. I called him back that afternoon and reached his voicemail. As expected, with it being the Sabbath and all, from sundown on Friday to sundown on Saturday, he was unable to call me back. He didn't call me back until Monday evening at around 7:15 p.m. Again, I was at work. In his voicemail, this time, he said he had to get a hold of me by the next day around five. Again, I tried calling him on my 15-minute break but to no avail--I got his voicemail and told him I had a break at 1pm and got off work at 5pm.

The next morning, he texted me, telling me that he would call me at 1:15. And true to his word, he did. He called me at 1:15 to the P to the M. Except there was just one problem: He called me at 1:15 p.m. his time. Pacific time. Nice.

I had to get off the phones at work and haul my ass down to the breakroom, screwing my time up for the day, which really wasn't a problem, mind you, but it was just kind of inconvenient, but I wasn't about to bitch about it.

Turns out the Rabbi was a bit of an insincere, shady prick. Can I say that? Well, I guess I just did. A person--what some might like to call a "useful idiot"--once made the comment to me that even G-d makes mistakes. And while I would tend to think otherwise, this schmuck was really giving that statement some credence.

For starters, the man asked me if I took any prescription drugs. Not that it was really any of his business, I answered "yes." He went on to ask me what I took. Again, I answered honestly: Effexor and nasal spray for allergies. He then asked me why I took Effexor!!!!! I was taken aback by this line of questioning but I answered honestly. I told him that I suffer from Obsessive-Compulsive disorder and that I'm a bit of a germaphobe but its not really a huge deal and it would have no bearing on how I fair on the trip should I be accepted. There was a looooooonnnnnnng, tense, 30-second pause. He returned with, "so, uh, are you going to see a psychologist for that?" I told him that I had in the past but I don't see one any longer. I could hear him inhale sharply on his end.

WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?!?! I thought to myself, what would you like to know next?!?! My sign (for the curious, I'm a proud Aries)?! My underwear size?!?! You prying asshole!!!

No, the questions he asked next were about my physical limitations. I told him that I move a little slower than the average person but I get around just fine. He then asked me how I was when it came to hikes ("Well, gosh...it's been a while since I climbed that tricky Mount Everest, but..."). I told him that I did a little hiking in Colorado several years ago and with the help of a walking stick, I had no problem. In fact, I really didn't even need a walking stick (truth be known, and I obviously would never admit this to the good Rabbi, but I just thought the stick looked fucking cool--like Splinter in the Ninja Turtles series. Ha ha ha!!! I made funny!!!). Again, there was another tense pause.

Look, I know that there are liabilities that these people have to think about, but I find those types of questions despicable. First off, the doctor prescribed pharmaceuticals I take are none of your fucking business, alright?! And according to Federal ADA guidelines, you really can't ask me questions about my disability and you certainly can't reject me from a trip such as this one because of said disability. So, why ask them at all, you ass!! Look, if I didn't think I could make it on this trip--physically and/or mentally--I wouldn't have applied. Needless to say, he had me verbally sign a waiver by telling him that yes, all of the questions I had answered were true and if I was dishonest about any of them, I would be sent home on my own dime.

He told me that he would take all the information I'd provided him with to the Rabbis and I would be contacted within the next three business days--Monday, at the very latest--with "everything I needed to know about the trip." I asked him if I was accepted already. He said very tersely, "Like I said, you will be contacted with everything you need to know." I thanked him and got off the phone with him.

Shalom, my ass.

Wednesday passes by...Thursday...nothing. It wasn't until until Friday night that I got an e-mail from the trip coordinator, Rachel, advising me that they had not made a decision regarding my trip status and that she would contact me no later than Monday regarding my status.

Curiouser and curiouser, I thought. What was the hold-up?

Monday comes and still, no word. I e-mail the gal and tell her that I never received an e-mail from her and asked her to get back to me regarding my status. I waited all day today (or, at this point, yesterday) at work, constantly checking my e-mail, until finally, I decided to jot down her cell number and call her after work. She was at a concert when I reached her. I told her that I never heard back from her and she claimed she sent me a reply that same night (*cough!* bullshit! *cough*). I told her that I never received it. She then proceeds to tell me that I'm--wait for it!!--really high up on the wait list.

The motherfucking WAIT LIST?!?!

I told her to re-send the e-mail because I wanted a hard copy and not just phone call. This is the e-mail I received later in the evening.

Dear Hal,

I'm sorry to tell you that due to high demand for our Taglit-birthright israel trips, you've been put on the waitlist for our winter trips. I have no way to know if any spaces will open up but based on historical data, there is a significant chance that spaces MAY open up.

You have 3 options at this point:

1. If you wish to remain on the waitlist, please let me know. I will retain your deposit and keep you as an active candidate. At this time, I have spaces available on our trips that leave on January 9^th, January 13^th and February 11^th.
2. If you wish to try to find another organizer that may have room for you, you can contact--
   

Blah, blah, fuckin' blah. What complete and utter bullshit. I am going to pull myself off the wait list for two reasons. For one, I need to know if I can get the time off from work. I can't just drop everything and get whisked away to Israel.

The second reason, however, is a little more complex. Look, I'm not stupid. They were covering their asses. Like I said, I registered a week--maybe less--after registration opened. There is no way that I should have been rejected for the cock-and-bull reason I was given.

And the thing is, I'm not sad. I mean, I'm disappointed. I really wanted to go on this trip. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hurt. These people don't even know me and they just slapped some CRAZY CRIPPLE label on my forehead. And there's not a damn thing I can do about it because these people can make up any damn story they want as to why they're rejecting me.

If it had been four or five weeks ago, I might have been crying in my Life cereal about it, but I think the meds are helping. I'm not as emotionally unhinged as I previously had been. I mean, yeah, the whole situation sucks, but I'm not going to cry about it. If anything, I'm pissed. I'm pissed as hell.

But this is how I see it:

I will never apologize for who I am or the way I am. As I said, G-d has a plan and He made me the way I am for a reason. If these people already have a problem with me without even taking the opportunity to get to know me--aside from the shallowest of 15-minute interviews--as a person, if all they see is a big, fat walking (or, I guess, in their eyes, a hobbling), talking Liability and not a young Jewish individual who wants to explore his roots and spirituality, than they can keep their free trip, because, as I have learned time and time again, this year, I am worth so much more than that.

And they can kush mir in tuchus!!

Look it up.

Good Enough

When logic and proportion Have fallen sloppy dead
And the White Knight is talking backwards
And the Red Queen's "off with her head!"
Remember what the dormouse said: "FEED YOUR HEAD!!"
--Jefferson Airplane, "White Rabbit" (1967)

I talk a pretty good game when it comes to what I write in this blog.

Occasionally, my entries are more a call to arms for myself, my own pep talk. I've learned, though, that sometimes, making positive changes in one's life isn't as simple as saying "Yes, I will do this and yes, I will change that."

***

On Tuesday, I had a doctor's appointment to get a lesion on my leg tested to see if it was another ringworm. The outbreak I had before had finally healed and, up until a week ago last Thursday, I was sitting pretty, confident that it had blown over and the Ringworm Situation was over.

Then I took a walk, a long walk around my neighborhood, just to get a little cardio in, blow off some steam. Well, I got what looked to be a mosquito bite on my leg, right above the knee. It itched like crazy and yeah, I'm not gonna lie, I am all about scratching mosquito bites, the little fuckers! Eventually, the head of the bite got kind of dry and scabby and, like the idiot that I am, I pulled what looked to be the head of the bite off. Low and behold, it began to look more and more like a ringworm lesion. At the same time, though, I was pretty convinced that it was a bite. It started off looking nothing like the lesions from before, so I tried to remain calm--no easy task for me, as I'm sure many of you reading this can attest to.

Eventually, even my parents--bless their hearts!--were pretty convinced that it looked like a ringworm lesion. But we couldn't be sure, so I decided to finally take it to my doctor, Becky (love her to death!).

She looked at it and said it looked like a ringworm but because it started off as being more like a mosquito bite, the only way she'd know for sure is if she did a skin biopsy, an idea she quickly nixed ("Trust me...Ya don't want that."). Instead, she prescribed a lotrisone cream that contained a steroid to knock whatever it was out quickly. The End.

Not.

Believe it or not, all of the above is pretty much beside the point of what I want to talk about. During that appointment, I told her how I'd been pretty much freaking out for the last two months, how I've been constantly paranoid about the ringworm. She knows I suffer from OCD and has believed for a long time that I should be put on medication. And the truth is, she's right. Oh sure, in the past, I've been on different meds like Effexor, Lexapro, and Prozac, but they all had one side-effect that I couldn't live with.

I couldn't have an orgasm.

Now, don't go thinking I'm like this pervy sex addict who needs to have an orgasm 24/7, but come on, let's be honest, not being able to have an orgasm in the throes of passion or, while we're speaking frankly, by oneself is one of the most depressing and horrible things a person can ever experience (next to hair loss, but that's a blog entry all by itself, thank you very much). I mean, yeah, in the grand scheme of things, not being able to experience The Big "O" doesn't exactly rank up their with tragedies such as the 9/11 or the Titanic sinking, but it sucks major ass (no pun intended. Obviously. Ew!)

Anyway, my doc just looked at me and said, "Hal, you don't have to feel this way. This is your life. You don't have to live your life this way."

She's right. Dammit, she's right. So, I told her of all the meds I'd been on, the Effexor was, well, the most effective. The only drawback, besides what I've already mentioned, is that it increases my appetite and slows my metabolism; something I'll have to keep my eye on and be mindful of. I can't be eating every piece of chocolate that's shot in my direction (wait! What am I talking about?! I do that already!)

So, she gave me seven weeks worth of pills and told me to call her as soon as I start to run out. Since I have a history of just quitting the meds cold turkey without telling her, she made me promise her that I would call.

***

How do I feel about all of this? Well, it's a mixed bag.

I mean, I'm optimistic, intrigued and excited about it because it might help me be happy (with the right amount of counseling) and less paranoid about every little cough or mark on my skin. At the same time though, I'm a little sad, ya know? For the last couple of years, I've tried to fight my OCD on my own and, for a little while, it seemed to work. But what I have to remember is that it's not something I can turn on and off. It is a chemical imbalance, a mental disorder. I didn't do this to myself, no one caused it. It's no one's fault.

I know all of this. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't feeling just a little defeated, weak. And yeah, I'll say it: I going to miss having orgasms. I guess I'll just have to get over those feelings. What can I say? Sometimes, sacrifices have to be made.

And I know that I could just go on with my life and do as I've done for the last two years and try to push down the fears and the paranoia the best I can (which, at the end of the day, I'm not all that successful at doing really). I could just toss the pills into the trash (hey, they were free! Samples rule!) and live my life the way I've been living it. You know, leave well-enough alone.

But there's something I'm finally starting to realize. To be sure, it's a realization that anyone who wants to improve their quality of life probably has, sooner or later, whether it be a homosexual coming out of the closet, a spouse unhappy with their marriage or, like me, someone who has a disorder that is preventing them from functioning normally in their daily life.

Sometimes, "well-enough" just isn't good enough.