Earthquake.

I've just encountered my first earthquake, so please let me describe it to you in sordid detail what happened.

(For those concerned about my well-being, it happened quite far away so I'm quite safe, don't worry - epicentre reports here)

So this earthquake struck just as I was playing C&C Generals, barely awake as it usually is the last thing that I do before I sleep (Don't ask me why, it requires little brain (and CPU) activity and is somehow soothing - I think) and as you know, I was controlling this China side with its behemoth tanks, and was mercilessly 'attacking' this USA enemy with entrenched defences and much superior airpower. So right at this exact moment, when some USA airplane had bombed my tanks, it struck.

You know how they show the bombing of an area in Generals? Well they sorta animate the ground shaking, the tanks being flipped up into the air, that area shakes a little, and sound effects of a bomb come in.

So yah. When the earthquake struck I initially couldn't believe my senses. I mean, I seriously thought I was getting too tired for playing - you know when you're exhausted, everything becomes amplified? So yah first thought was 'is this real?' Have I gained an extraordinary insight into how addicted gamers feel when they get sucked into the gaming world and lose touch with this?

And then I realised something was wrong, because the US airplane had finished its mission (I must inform you that my other tanks managed to shoot it down) and the area was back to normal. And my whole table and clothes rack was shaking violently. Not to mention my weights started rolling about - they're 10kg and usually don't move about of their own accord.

So my next thought was - had I put something wrong in the washing machine? Because my flatmates and I had just cleaned up the kitchen, and I had cleaned part of the bathroom, we had stuck the floormat (washable, according to IKEA) and a detachable mop-magic-clean-furry-thing (the furry part, obviously), as well as a throw, into the washing machine beforehand, I thought some part had choked some vital organ in the washing machine and it was making its last gasps for help.

So I went outside, and checked. It was off.

By this time the shock was over, and one of my flatmates had just popped his head out of his room, asking if I felt it. And he mentioned that it might be an earthquake, he had experienced several in Birmingham before, being a native here.

And so yes, I realised only after what lasted only 10 secs, but seemed like minutes, that I had just experienced my first earthquake. And it was quite fun, really.

Oh and the other flatmate slept through it - he swore that heard our conversation in his dreams, about earthquake and the washing machine.

Lost.

I'm feeling really lost right now.

Robot porn.

Warning: Contains strong language and sex references, might be offensive to some viewers.

So here goes: cute music video. Look out especially for 1:12.

Blogging about blogging.

If I were an arts student, this might be a thesis, but since I'm not - what do you think are the reasons behind our blogging? Why do we pick certain topics to write about, even when we know they might be mundane (or even offensive) to other people?

Since I am not taking English or philosophy, I can only implore you to look at your posts, and think of what you felt at the time you wrote them. Were they therapeutic? Helped you to vent some anger or frustration which otherwise might seem out of character?

Or did you want to show that hey, this is who I am, and let it serve as a looking glass into your life, for anyone who might care and does care?

Yeah I'm still in SSC mood, and am much too free for my own good. Interesting what life in the country does to you. (OK I know Preston is a city, as I often astound my friends with, but it's the whole staring at semi-detached houses with observatories and nice gardens, with nice elderly people pottering about [literally] mood, you know?)

Longest Traffic Jam - ever.

Now I understand what Kuan Ching said when we visited him in KL this year - I just got stuck in a horrific traffic jam today, and took 3 1/2 hours to get home when I usually take 45 minutes.

I don't mean to be evil, with a fatality involved, but (follow the link) the police took 6 fucking hours just to clear the scene and 'investigate the causes' when no other cars were involved. I mean, on the radio, I heard that it was a multi-car pile-up (which softened the blow) but now that I've the news, they closed down the ENTIRE expressway for 6 FUCKING HOURS just to investigate the cause of a Land Rover getting out of control?!

6 FUCKING HOURS. 3 FUCKING LANES. DO THEY EVEN REALISE THE TRAFFIC CONGESTION THEY CAUSED AROUND THE 20 MILE RADIUS OF THAT EXPRESSWAY CLOSURE.

Yes I am in one of those rare moments where I am just slightly inclined towards violence, and vulgarities. Just a bit tetchy, as they say.

Happy Chinese New Year!

Finally, my year (and yours, probably) has come again. Time to rule the world (financially, as it states on some horoscope thingy) and make mayhem!

On a more serious note, my mum and sis packed some 2 bags of CNY goodies, bubble-wrapped and all, for my dad to bring over on Tuesday, and I just collected it over the weekend. Now I know I might probably sound like some ego-maniacal smug guy who thinks he has it all but I'm really glad I have such a wonderful family (the bags almost filled the entire suitcase my dad brought along, honestly), and I think (anticipate, rather) getting fat on such love simply has to be worth it. I mean, I don't know if it's partially because the CNY goodies industry has blossomed in the past few years, but even the humble green pea biscuit tastes so delicious!

You can come up with all the cliches about familial love you want, but words alone can't adequately describe the the warm fuzzy feeling you get, when you're luxuriating in the nice warm tropical climate¹, tea tarik in one hand, CNY goodies in another (and much more within close reach of course²).


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¹My mum packed in a humidifier in December, when she came over, and I've quite a good strong heater in my room.
²Detailed inventory of stuff I have now:
1. Green Pea Biscuits
2. Modified love letters (they're sort of tinier)
3. Mixed assortment of biscuits (Smaller amounts, can't really describe them)
4. Coffee almond biscuits
5. Mini popiah filled with hae bi hiam - someone enlighten me on what it's called, can't remember the name!!
6. Pineapple tarts
7. Bah Kwa
8. Spicy pork floss
Yes, 1 box/container of each.

Love, and looking ahead.

I know, this is probably too mushy for most of you (so you've received your warning here) but you know sometimes when you listen to a particular song you're just overcome by emotion, and can't stop yourself shedding a few tears? I know, it's not something a guy will normally (willingly) admit to, but tonight, whilst watching this video, I couldn't stop thinking of the academic year ahead, without her (relatively) close by.

But no, I'm not going to induce some involuntary reflux of your last meal by elaborating any further, of course.

Patients With Cancer.

I met a patient, a few months back now, who suffered from Hodgkin's Lymphoma, a type of cancer, obviously. He was at home, receiving palliative care, and was given a prognosis of a few months.

Now what struck me most was that although his skin, on his lower extremities, was covered in horrible ulcers (the sight of which scars you for life), and he was obviously in pain, having to change the dressings (I was with the district nurse, who does it for him), he seemed remarkably upbeat. His wife was there too, and they were telling us the holiday they had booked with some grant they had received, and that they were going to enjoy themselves while they could, together.

The patient seemed more worried about his wife not being able to cope after his passing, and in fact had penned down a diary detailing each and every thing he wanted to do, with his wife, before the eventuality came.

And a few weeks back, I met an elderly lady, this time whilst with the GP, who had presented again with a carcinoma a few years after she had achieved remission from Non-Hodgkin's. Basically another form of cancer. Besides the obvious cliche that came to mind, "Cancer is the ideal state every cell aspires to", what struck me was that she, too, appeared calm, stoic and composed.

It is patient contact, like this, that makes you appreciate life for what it is, and steers you towards a certain complicated branch of medicine.

I bet this is gory reading for most of you, and we don't normally think of our own mortality at such a tender young age where our aspirations and ambitions take precedence over our health - but please, my friends, please take care of your health. Enjoy life, responsibly.

On Words.

What, do you think, is more effective - an essay on living, or a movie on the purpose of life?

As you know, I'm currently doing an SSC (student selected component, ie report on some topic you've chosen) on Tolstoy and the Art of General Practice, and have been asked to read a book called . Now as the book only arrived today I had a free day yesterday, which I utilised effectively to watch random movies and ponder on the role of general practitioners as artists in society. And I managed to watch "I am Legend" (don't ask why, because I don't condone illegal downloading of movies, which I didn't, obviously.)

So you may ask how and why an action/thriller/horror movie starring Will Smith toting an M16 (or is it an M4?) poses such an intellectually challenging question. Well watch the first hour of the movie (on DVD, obviously) and although you might have to extrapolate a little (considering the fact that it is a Hollywood movie) you should get my point.

And read the book, of course, if you have the time. And the article. I promise they're worth the time.

Tolstoy and the Art of General Practice.

Yup that's my SSC for the first semester this year, anybody have any insights on that, other than the 'we are all small but significant parts of society/history, just like the cells/organs of our bodies, and general practice is all but keeping it going (not making drastic changes) and letting it roll along' concept that I have three weeks to refine (greatly, of course) on?
Other than the belief that we should be vegetarians and live full spiritual lives, of course.
Philosophical and arty people out there, help me!

Professionalism in Medical Students.

We've a discussion we have to do as part of a portfolio, and the current one's on (as the title suggests) professionalism medical students are supposed to exhibit. I'd appreciate some comments about my post below, thanks!

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OK I think we've plunged straight into the murky depths of
professionalism in our medical education straightaway haven't we?
Seriously though, I believe Louisa and Sri have both made very valid and
important points in our discussion - in fact, if we look closely at the
GMC guidelines on Tomorrow's
Doctors, you have both mentioned certain outcomes we should have
attained by the end of our undergraduate education!
Further to the points you've made, however, I do feel there are certain
areas we can expand upon, namely
1. What is the 'professional' behaviour required of a medical
student? By that I mean not just what we think we should exhibit
(as Louisa has mentioned), or what our educators, or other doctors, show
(as Sri has noted), but perhaps also think about what patients expect of us.
2. What are the ways in which we can develop a professional relationship
(albeit as a medical student) with not just our patients, but also our
peers and educators?

With regards to the first point, am I the only one to find the symbiotic
relationship between patients and us medical students fascinating? Is it
not such a complex, and sublime one, where they have a vested interest
in our education, helping us (in our vain ventures into history-taking,
and clumsy attempts at clinical examinations), in the hope of moulding
us in their expectations? As such privileged confidantes, where do we
draw the line between passing on valuable medical or social information
for good use, and keeping certain facts confidential; how do we present
ourselves to patients, being too much 'on their side', not just as a
healthcare professional, or risk appearing too detached, and seem
concerned only with our own learning objectives?

I'm sure we can all congratulate ourselves on the fact that we have
demonstrated the former reasonably well through our actions, if we have
not explicitly stated so, in our presentations to senior staff and
discussions amongst ourselves (Mr X, etc), but regarding the latter,
what do you think we should, or should not do, to show our empathy for
patients, yet achieve our learning aims at the same time? Gaining
consent properly, and introducing ourselves are obvious points; perhaps
making them feel at ease, as well as appropriating shared
objectives, I feel, are areas we should improve on (at least for me!)
What do you think?

As for the second point, there is an interesting article about role
models in the medical profession and how professional behaviour should
be taught1, perhaps you'd find it an interesting post-PBL
read! An interesting point it makes is that professional behaviour
should be taught not just through group discussions (like this), but
also by people of other professions. I personally think it is an
interesting idea - remember the ethics lectures by Prof Harris? What do
you think?



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1How important
are role models in making good doctors? Paice et al. BMJ
2002;325:707-710

Art.

I read with interest today this year's award of the Turner prize for a copied piece of anti-war work they call art.
Now normally I don't really care much about modern art, in fact, I do have a rather dim opinion of those that call themselves 'contemporary artists', but the subject of today's article was really too outrageous for me not to comment on it.
I mean, what artistic value does a copied work have? One that is not even done by the 'artist' himself, for crying out loud. I mean, would you credit an imitator of the Mona Lisa, even one with subtle differences deliberately painted in (for the sake of 'irony' or 'satire')?¹
Taken together with the confession by several 'artists' (sorry I've lost that link) that they dare not create 'art' about Islam, for fear of reprisals² by Islamic fundamentalists, I really wonder what real statement these 'conceptual artists' are trying to make - are they merely tools for the rich (or media), and pander to their needs with tired works that have no real concept on their own?
You can call yourself a conceptual artist, but what distinguishes an 'artist' who can't paint from the English major who can churn out truckloads of rubbish about some inanimate object that makes apparent sense? It seems to me that too many 'artists' merely exploit the use of language and the superiority complex of human beings to come up with meaningless rubbish masquerading as art.
Take the latest piece by that same Turner prize winner, the video of a giant teddy bear prancing around in an empty art gallery. Is he merely trying to make fun of himself, the audience, or is it an idea a 3 year-old can come up with, but cannot be credited with since he/she is not an artist?
And another piece by another 'artist', the one with the lights going on and off(2001 winner). Is it an interesting glimpse into the passage of time, perhaps through the eyes of a prisoner awaiting his death sentence, or is it merely a meaningless waste of electricity environmentalists should be concerned about?³ And not to mention the famous pickled cow, a dreadful waste of meat when we've had multiple specimens preserved in formaldehyde in science for years.
It is 'art' like these that make you wonder, what is the world coming to? Why are we now ignoring real artistic talent in favour of such rubbish - are we now reduced to rewarding people who utter words with no real meaning, and 'visionaries' with no vision? It is such work that make you cynical of modern art, and reduces potentially sombre messages to ridicule.
Now if only art collectors recollect more about the true meaning of art.
No, I'm not an artist.⁴

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¹Oh sorry, was that blasphemy, my comparing this trash to the Mona Lisa? I'm sorry, I didn't mean any disrespect to Da Vinci, or any real artists out there.
²I.e. Murder, or assorted violent acts we should all probably threaten them with.
³He didn't even use energy-saving bulbs. But then again, energy-saving bulbs would create such a different effect, taking such a long time to light up (personal experience, my room) that he would need to create another piece to satirise the environmental movement, wouldn't he?
⁴Don't you even dare compare me to a conceptual artist.

Reverse-Bumming.

I've realised in the past week that too much bumming around will result not only in a larger behind, but also a dip in mood. Seriously, the more you bum, the more you feel guilty, and the more you don't feel like doing anything, resulting in a very vicious¹ cycle you can't get out of without much strength².
So from today I shall engage in reverse-bumming. Yes not just by doing handstands, obviously.



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¹And viscous, obviously. Remember the guy who died sitting in a plane for too long?
²Mental and physical.

My Car!

Yup after my long search for a car I've finally settled on a ford focus. Why ford focus, such an ugly, common car, you might ask.
Well for practical reasons, really. Insurance group low, decent size for a first car, and decent engine as well (1.6, good for speeding just that wee bit when I need to). It's a 3 door yep, because I wasn't too bothered about paying less for a 3-door car (and it's not like I'm gonna ferry too many people around, with such crazy fuel prices now) - and it's 3-door 'cause the hatch is considered 1 as well, don't ask me why - and it's "tonic" (blue, really) because try as I did, I couldn't find a decent green-coloured one.

Now I don't want to sound like I don't like this car, because I do love this to bits (I tried going at 90 miles the other day and it just felt so right, unlike the other car I test-drove, a 1.4; and handling around corners is just superb) but it's interesting how after such a long search, I settled on such an unobtrusive-looking, functional car. I mean, I really am a boring guy aren't I?

Another post from few weeks back:

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You know there are certain moments which will be deeply imbibed in your mind, even years from now.
I just experienced one just now, sitting in my chair, feet on bed, Oxford Handbook in hand (reading the introduction), Satie's Gymnopaedia No. 1 playing in the background, my gaze falling upon the bed...
It's hard to explain, really. I mean, I've made a little clip here (I know my amateur efforts - or the decade-old webcam - don't really help) but I don't think it really encapsulates my feelings at that moment in time.
I could go into a whole lot of pseudo-scientific explanation here - judging from the video, the pictures (and the military plaque) on the walls, the warm tones of the bed frame, and simple white (latte, actually, was the description on the plastic wrapping) of the duvet cover, oh and not forgetting the piglet lying down symbolising a certain someone, (and the oxford handbook of clinical medicine explains itself), everything seems to fit into what I think the general scheme of things should be.
Well come to think of it, I may not have been spouting rubbish there.

Now I know, what I've written above may seem just abit narcissistic (feeling smug about analysing your own thoughts eh, you must be thinking - or "this guy really needs to hang out more with other human beings") but heck, this Is a blog about me, isn't it. I'll write a critical piece from an armchair when I want to. Which is not too often, unless it's directed to BT customer sales, who have not sorted out my internet line in 3 weeks, at the time of writing.

I swear, if I don't manage to get my internet sorted out by mid-October, I'm gonna sue BT.*



*Thankfully, they did sort it out a few days ahead of schedule.

CD covers - part II.

I meant to blog this awhile ago (actually typed it out on my comp) so as I've now got my internet back at long last, here goes:

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You know how sometimes you can be so enthralled by a particular song on the radio you patiently wait for the CD to be released, grab it gleefully once you see it on the shelves - only to be utterly and bitterly disappointed when you actually listen to the CD in its entirety?
I should have seen the signs, right on the CD cover, featuring this doe-eyed boy staring earnestly at the viewer, along with various members of his band looking generally thoughtful and/or pensive on it. Teen girl alert! Alarm bells should have gone ringing in my head. But perhaps entranced by that song on the radio, I ignored them. (Or maybe because I was lacking sleep at that particular moment. Come to think of it, I make impulsive buys when I'm tired.)
So upon returning home, I popped it into the computer, and presto, a program came up, screaming at me to "See additional footage of the band!!!" And with yet another huge picture of the band, taken to maximum effect.
Bad news, huh.
Well so with doubts starting to form in my mind, I clicked on the (small) link to play the audio files, and wow, I immediately got an error from Windows. No extension linked, it said. And fearing the worst, I opened up windows media player, half-expecting it not to show rippable files. (I hate copyright protection, I don't like having to lug my CD collection around)
But it did.*
And so become several minutes of torture to the ear.
Seriously, the music itself isn't that bad. I mean, it's blatant pop, with the simple guitar chords, and with next to no virtuosity shown with any particular instrument, perfect for strumming to at campfires and the such.
The lyrics, though, are total t.r.a.s.h.
I know that's probably the most vitrolic words I've ever spouted at any band I've listened to (this is clearly worse than the CD with the band picture on the back cover), but I make no excuses for my blatant condemnation of it. I mean, if you just search for the lyrics to ANY of the songs on the Internet, you'll know what I mean. They sound just like those you were forced to write in secondary school by your over-enthusiastic teacher who made an unfortunate choice of topic, and rushed out in the 5 minutes before recess - but worse, seriously, considering this is for the mass market.
You may try to look at it kindly, thinking perhaps these are indeed the heartfelt emotions of an innocent little schoolboy writing about his experiences, but after countless songs about falling in love (and no these are not even pseudo-poetic descriptions of love) and out of it, you start to think to yourself - are you the cynical one, or are they merely churning out songs to perform in their concerts? I certainly wasn't impressed by what I think is crap for the masses.
And it's not just the seemingly innocent confessions that bother you - it's the simple thought that thousands of girls are falling heads over feet for such banal music, and you wonder if this is some cynical ploy by the music industry to reduce the general IQ of the teenage market to 0, and thus make it easier for other slightly more cerebral acts to sell their inferior stuff to the public.
I know I sound aloof here, but seriously, if this is going to be some top-seller I'd both be aghast and horrified by the degenerate taste in music of the market.
I warn you here, do NOT buy the CD by the Plain White T's.


*Come to think of it, it's clearly a clever move targeted at the teen girl market. Assuming my windows error was isolated, allowing teenage girls to share their enthusiasm for the band (no doubt gushing about the cute angsty boys) definitely is a good strategy, isn't it?

Drowning in Loneliness.

Seems abit melodramatic, the title, but I've been here for the past few weeks now without the Internet, and as the cliche goes, you only realise how important something/someone is until you lose it/him/her. I feel detached from the world at large, even more than usual.
And to say the truth, although there are several Malaysians here, to put it simply, I don't feel any particular close connection with them. Won't go into details here (will leave that for later) but to keep it short, I now fully understand why the Brits drink so much.
Oh and did I mention the weather, it's getting colder now (like, below 10, in the day!!!) and I dread to think what it would be like in December. And it's raining perpetually, of course, or looking gloomy in general.
But the course is alright, people are nice here, or at least seem to be, and hopefully due to a total lack of activities available to do here I'll study more, and lose a little of the weight I've gained over the past year.
Will blog again when I get the Internet back.

Realisations.

After slacking for the past few months, I think I've finally had my fill of relaxation, and I guess right now I feel so much more recharged, and ready to face the coming year. It's odd, you know, because somehow I have this nagging suspicion that it's partly due to the fact that I'm going back in a week's time - 9 days, to be exact. It's as if the body and mind somehow sense that the time to relax, get fat. and lapse into a state of laziness, generally, is up, and it is now time to get back to serious business.

I wonder if that's been the rationale behind this enforced break every year - the educators have realised how easy it is to get jaded (from personal experience, perhaps) and purposefully planned 'holidays'; indeed, the shorter breaks from next year onwards sorta symbolise our days of relaxation and scholarship are gradually coming to an end, to be replaced by the sinister world of illness, diseases (stress-induced psychological problems included) and mortality, don't they?

(To my Singaporean medic friends, the week-long holiday probably just reflects future work-life, doesn't it ;p)

Oh and I've also realised, I subconsciously place quite a huge emphasis on my family, in my life. I mean, I do admit, I am quite a lazy person, but give me a family dinner on one hand, and a meet-up with friends on the other, and it's a no-brainer, really. LM's hand on one side, and some army mates' palms on another, and unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your perspective) it's not much of a decision either.

It's such a reality check, isn't it, when you realise after the common bond you share (school, army etc) has ended it's so much harder to keep in contact. I guess all I can say here is, if I appear to have forgotten about you, my friends (who are still reading this blog), I haven't - I've just become more lazy. ;p

And a random realisation here - whilst driving, at traffic lights, it seems like I'm more often than not faster out of the blocks (the line lah). I mean, I do oftentimes do it consciously (cheap thrill) but after the initial acceleration, I don't really care if the other cars soon catch up. It just seems so lonely and odd, in front of everybody else, doesn't it?

And speaking about driving, I'm not sure if I've blogged about this before but have you enjoyed going down the expressway, alone, just enjoying the drive, the scenery and dance music blasting out of the stereo? I think I have, but I do miss the feeling. Pray for me, my friends, that I won't encounter a pesky traffic cop whilst I do that heh.

And finally, I haven't been blogging recently because to be honest, apart from spending much time with my family (watched 2 movies with my grandma liao, not to mention numerous lunches) and LM, there really isn't anything interesting happening in my life right now. And I haven't found the inspiration *looks under the table* to blog about my views on everything silly happening out there.

You Realise You're Old When....

You realise you're old when... you pick up a CD and the band on the CD case looks a tad too immature for your liking.

Seriously, I was browsing through some CDs in search of a particular one I had read good reviews about (I'd forgotten which one it was, another sign of old age) and picked up this one from Red Jumpsuit Apparatus (or something like that). I had had thought the name looked vaguely promising, and the kind auntie salesperson had put it in the CD player for me; the songs I had listened to (about 20 secs each) had sounded OK, if not that exceptional.
And then I turned to the back of the CD case (heretofore unseen) and saw this obscene picture of the band members standing on some cliff (or something) trying to look cool. Seriously, it was like a rip-off of the Linkin Park Hybrid Theory album, come to think of it, except that they had applied some Photoshop effects, probably to hide the acne and hide their teenage youthful faces.

OK I'm probably exaggerating, and I'm not saying young people can't make good music (I know I'm a dinosaur with the face of a kitten), but seriously, that image was enough to make me put down the CD (after thanking the salesperson of course), and scramble out of the CD shop. You should have seen my expression then - or ask the salesperson, she looked at me oddly when I did that.

Up till now, I had never fully appreciated the marketing power (I'm sure some teenage girls would have gone goo-goo-gah-gah over the suave young men in the picture) a CD sleeve could harness until now.

Revealing My Dark Side.

LM was asking me the other day, why I appear so reserved even with other friends whom I've known for years.

I realise I don't know, really. Perhaps it's due to the fact that I know I can become the centre of attention in a group, and I really don't feel too comfortable with it. I mean, I do realise I was born in a privileged family, and this may confer some unfair advantages over some friends, and it just doesn't seem right to take advantage of this.

Or maybe it's just as what I've written in my friendster profile - I react (subconsciously, sometimes) to the people I'm with, and unless I'm with people I'm really close with, this self-erected barrier just automatically goes up. And even with people I'm close to, I am subconsciously aware of their likes, dislikes, characteristics, and the like. No I'm not trying to sound like I have some superpower of picking up emotive signs or anything, to me, it just seems proper, and what many people do. Doesn't everyone?

And maybe it's also because of my pride, I don't go around imitating Justin Timberlake to anybody other than LM and my sister (though she hasn't exactly heard me do a JT yet). I mean, it's not going to do wonders for my reputation is it, sonically and taste-wise.

And there are some things you just can't say out loud, I guess. Like many things I write in this blog, if I were to read them out, I would cringe in embarrassment at the convoluted crap I can come out with at times. Blogging, like writing a diary, seems detached enough to air my smelly linen, I guess.

So these are the reasons why I don't talk much. What's yours?