strange musings of a distracted spunk

Seeing as it’s the last day of the year and all now, I suppose I should write the customary year in review. Because it really, truly has been one hell of a year. In some respects, I’m glad to see it go, but in others, I’m not. I would also like to apologize to my readers - my writing is nowhere near as stellar as it usually is, but I’ve not exactly been a mindset to work on making this blog a work of craft. Right now, I’m more of the trying to live life mindset than I am of the reflect and make a story of life mindset. I promise, I will return. I just don’t know when. Please bear with me until then.

And now - a recap!

January: I rang 2007 in with some of my best friends, from college and from high school alike. There was so much unknown, so much promise at the beginning of the year, and we were all there single - only one of us at that point was in a relationship, but there were no couples at the party, something for which I was incredibly grateful at that moment. As we stood by the window in my apartment on 1st and 19th, we heard the crowd chanting in Times Square and we cheered and hugged as we ushered in 2007. At that point, none of us knew how much would change for us in that year - all but one of us moved, and they were all significant changes in our lives.

The rest of the month was taken over by school and a failed beginning with someone who has now become a good friend and a great laughing partner. I had no way of knowing how many twists and turns my life would take in that one year alone.

February: D dropped the bombshell that I never thought I’d recover from. Pea in a Pod revealed herself to be much stronger and much more like me than I had ever realized. Our friendship was cemented by her response to the D bombshell, and our weekly dinners became a saving grace for me. Not to mention the support I received from all of my other friends when my world fell out from beneath me and I couldn’t understand why I still existed. I watched my legs move me through the days, but never quite followed how I got there.

March: More drama with D, who somehow infiltrated every aspect of my life. A spontaneous trip to Chicago with Jack of All Trades and my thesis life partner led to the beginning of my renewal. GDB followed soon thereafter and my world gets shaken up again, but this time for a connection so intense, we spend 20 hours together the first time we meet. The beginning of looking for a new apartment, and incredible apartment drama with the most passive-aggressive individual I had ever met. Luckily, I backed out before I made a commitment to living with her in Williamsburg.

April: My life is work, therapy, classes, the gym, and sometimes GDB. Therapy was part of what made me realize it was okay to not be a robot all the time. I was tired of feeling like my outside betrayed my inside, but I never quite realized that people found me cold and insensitive sometimes, because as cheery as I could be, my low expectations of life were obvious. A search for a new apartment yielded a new roommate and a lovely brownstone in Boro Park, one that I couldn’t wait to move into.

May: Apartment renovations, finals, moving, tense times with GDB, tense times with my parents moving from their home of nine years to a new one in an adult community, the beginning of wedding season ‘07, the singularly most explosive date I have ever had in my entire life - passion, anger, silliness, and intensity above all. With GDB, of course. Also - the first time D and I see each other in person and the revelation that yes. I can move on.

June: My 23rd birthday, GDB’s decision to move back to Chicago, our back and forth decisions on what to do in terms of us, because we were growing into an us, loving and living in Brooklyn once again, my roommate’s strange cat who I often fed and once had to find after the landlord’s cleaning lady let him out of the house during a rainstorm, my impulsive decision to move and quit school for a year. Thailand’s departure, nights with males who are incredibly influential and involved in my life but remain to be revealed for their true or ultimate nature. Wedding season takes over.

July: Wedding season in full force, a ridiculous PR writing class on Saturday mornings from 9-3 (killed my social life on Fridays), my very first wedding as a bridesmaid for my rwin, GDB’s departure (we said goodbye on four separate occasions - none stuck), GDB’s realization that he didn’t want to end things with me just yet, a breakdown in the bathroom at the Savage Men show in Atlantic City for my cousin’s bachelorette party because I only just realized how much I cared and wanted to be with GDB. Also - multiple job interviews for positions around the country, an offer from the literacy advocacy group that I accepted, breaking the news to my family that I was moving to California in less than a month, breaking the news to my incredible employer who gave me a second chance, after my depression made me unreliable and difficult to work with. Moving out of my apartment, in a rather memorable last hurrah with Pea in a Pod and a former coworker, a not so pleasant battle with the roommate because he had to move as well. We no longer speak.

August: A trip to Canada with friends for a Harry Potter convention (yes, I’m a geek, I admit it, but I didn’t dress up!), another wedding in which I wore blue this time for my cousin, and finally, my departure. My fears of leaving my family, my school, my friends behind manifested themselves in a ridiculous way - meanwhile, I was thrown several goodbye parties, GDB was behind me all the way, and Techny Besty and I renewed our friendship and made it impossibly stronger.

The move. A flight from Newark to Dallas, and from Dallas to Oakland before my first trip around San Francisco and being brought to the strange lady’s house. A week of searching, before a week in Utah where I met one of my closest friends in California today, and finally, the beginning of a new job. Full of hope, full of possibility, full of adventure. I had no way of knowing what was in store. Also - GDB becoming a calming and steadying force in my life. Finally being in the same time zone as Avocado again, but now being three hours behind everyone else. My watch remained on East Coast time, as it does today, so I would know what time it was at home.

September: Moving in with the family who took me in for a week to save me from the Strange Lady, finally finding an apartment of my own and furnishing it in one day through Ikea and free furniture on Craigslist. A second trip to Chicago, this time to see my friends from Israel, as well as GDB. The beginning of this blog.

October: The beginning of my realization that AmeriCorps isn’t quite right for me. Contact reestablished with D. Avocado comes to visit. My almost-mono fluke virus that bewildered me and my new doctor for a week. My growing frustration with the lack of support from the AmeriCorps community, and the first time I really miss home. The realization that I am falling in love with GDB.

November: My first attempt to quit my job. The highest highs of the year, with my friends, GDB, and the blog community now there for me. My return home, for the first time since I moved. The realization that GDB is falling in love with me, as well. Feeling on top of the world, in all aspects. Botched traveling and a layover in Chicago is changed to a layover in Denver, before becoming a direct flight back to San Francisco. Feeling like anything can happen, and I’m okay with that.

December: A week in L.A. where I was reminded of my deafness repeatedly, before I got to see my family that lives out there. GDB’s birthday, and subsequent alien attack. The first ending of our relationship. A last minute decision to fly home. Lost toiletries on my flight coming back from L.A. The realization that some people who I had never expected to be my support system had indeed become just that - questions about where it could go with them in the future. The renewal of some sort of relationship with GDB. A job offer. A job ending. Many meals out. A canceled flight and more travel chaos. Tons of family videos, traveling, last minute excursions, and not nearly enough sleep. Questions, unending certainty, and almost depression because my future has become so unclear now. There are no answers anymore. Just questions.

In a way, I’ve come full circle. But last year, when the world seemed so full of promise, when it was so bright and shiny and exciting, I feel incredibly removed from that. Now, I’m left wondering why exactly am I going back to Berkeley? There’s nothing left for me here, I’m certain on that, because I’ve never felt so dislocated in my life, but I don’t know how I will feel when I return back to California. I have no idea what’s in store for my future, and right now, I feel slightly cheated. Before, there were hints of sparkling memories in store, of a future with GDB, of impossibility becoming possible. Now, while I know the world lays at my feet, I wonder - are there too many possibilities? Are we just too accustomed to expecting everything that it makes it impossible for us to expect nothing?

I experienced my greatest relationship to date in 2007 - it may have been long distance for the last five months, but it was the most functional, the most real, and it showed me the capacity I have for loving someone else. It saddens me to know that I may not be able to do that anymore. This was the first year where I was ready to take on a stable relationship - though I did have several of my one-night encounters, as was par for the course all throughout college. I’m still great friends with most of them, but unless they were to become more than a several-night hookup, I don’t want to purse that sort of thing anymore. I realized I am so much stronger than I thought I was - I could pick up and move to a destination where I knew absolutely no one, make my way through hell and back, and still find myself walking into work to follow through on my commitment. Not to mention leaving my family behind and saying goodbye to my support network, most of whom reside somewhere on the east coast.

I wish I could say that I’m looking forward to 2008. But right now? I’m not even sure if I’m looking forward to waking up tomorrow. It’s just a hard end to what has been one hell of a year. If the last few days are any indication, I won’t wake up until at least noon. I’ll decide which one of the seven parties I’ve been invited to I want to attend (it seems impossible to me that anyone should desire my company with the current state I am in), and eventually head over.

I’ll watch the ball drop with others, drink my customary glass of champagne, send a few texts to a bunch of friends and GDB, and hope I fall asleep to a dreamless night, in anticipation of a more stable 2008. I think I’m ready for some stability in my life.

Edit: I spoke too soon. It’s 6:00 AM on New Year’s Eve, and I have not yet gone to sleep. Instead, the memories of a life I no longer have keep rushing through my head, and while I know I need to get rid of them to move onto a new year, my heart feels emptier. How can one’s heart say yes, while one’s head says no? There are so many words left unsaid, so many memories not yet experienced, and I feel broken in my uncertainty. My body doesn’t flutter right now, I’m lucky if I’ll resemble anything less than a zombie today. It seems I was in love all along - I just never knew it. Because I’ve never experienced anything this devastating.

At any rate, the new year begins in approximately 14 hours. Here’s hoping it rings in with some stability for a change.

Don’t worry. I’m still fizzing.

However, my life tends to set itself up in extreme contrasts. I was offered the job this morning at a rather prestigious University, working as an assistant to two Deans in a rather prominent and moneyed school, sleek, modern, with dark wood furniture and conference rooms and little fluorescent lighting.  Then I went to my current office, with its mica furniture, crappy chairs, fluorescent everything, painted murals by children in Richmond on the evils of gang violence, and non-profit everything. I’ll miss seeing Not-Yram and Skylar Blue every day (or whenever I actually make it down to the office and don’t “work from home,”) but I think the benefits far outweigh what I’ll be leaving behind.

I won’t miss the bitchy board member who seeks out conflict and confrontation in every e-mail.

I won’t miss my supervisor, who as nice as he can be personally, is inefficient and ineffective professionally. I let him know he needed to coordinate shifts for an event we have this week - he totally dropped the ball. I got a phone call late last night asking if I could possibly cover some shifts that he failed to get covered while I was gone, as though it was my responsibility to work while I was being reminded of my deafness by AmeriCorps. Sweet.

I won’t miss board meetings where I listen to them go in circles, ultimately going nowhere about what direction they should take, versus what direction they actually take. Is it at all ironic that the day I get offered a new job, I have to sit through a two hour board meeting?

I know my new job may not be all that. But when one of my new bosses called to offer me the job, she also mentioned what my new salary would be. It was $10,000 more than I expected. I had to ask her to repeat it, because I wasn’t sure I heard her right - you know. Because I hear so damn well. My mouth more or less dropped, and she said, “You still here?” “Oh yes. I’m still here.”

I may be able to work towards finishing my master’s here. And for free. As opposed to paying 1100 per credit at NYU. Because I do want to finish my master’s. It’s important to me. As is having a job that respects me and understands what I’m capable of.

However, only moments after I took this job, I realized. I’m not coming back to New York so fast. I thought I’d find something for only a few months and then return home, take summer classes, GDB would move back, we’d date properly, I’d graduate, possibly return back to the agency that I want to work for, etc. Now it appears that I will be here at least through the summer. I never intended to stay out in California for more than a year - I’m a New Yorker at heart. Does this mean I’m betraying my own city? Will I be leaving my skyscrapers and slushy snow behind in favor of 55 degree weather and sunny days? Will I lose my New Yorker status? When am I no longer allowed to say, “I’m from New York?”

I won’t be seeing my family as often. We’ll be relegated to the daily phone calls. GDB and I won’t be in the same place. My friends are all on the East coast, with the exception of a few that are scattered around the world.  I’ll only see them when I fly back East, unless they fly out here to see me. Even then, my apartment is so small, I can’t really adequately house everyone I’d like to host.

I won’t lie. I had a bit of a panic attack. There was furious texting with Jack of All Trades. There was the “I really need to talk to you,” text message to Avocado. GDB texted me back with, “ROCK!” when he got my text about getting the job I wanted. Then he was on gtalk when I got back to my office. I messaged him immediately. We talked about the job, the pay, the benefits, and what it all means.

Somehow, it came up that he decided not to move back to New York - that he’ll stay in Chicago, where the cost of living is cheaper and he can make more money. “Besides,” he said, “you’re staying in California indefinitely now, so what would be the point?” It hit me then. He’s thinking about us and a future. He’s not worrying how we’re going to make it work, just trusting that one day, we will be in the same place again. It surprises me that he is so forward thinking, but perhaps I shouldn’t be so hesitant to think that he’s aware that I might be it, just as much as he might be it for me.

So maybe I will be out here for several months longer than I anticipated. But I won’t be making less than ten thousand a year anymore. I’ll be able to pay off all my bills, my rent, buy food, and still have money left over to start saving. Because yes. I want to start saving. I want to pay off graduate school. I want to be able to move back to New York, or maybe Chicago, and have the ability to get my own place or move forward with my life. But there will be plane rides. There will be visits. There will be enjoying more of life now that I can afford to go out and splurge every once in a while.

I have to laugh a bit though. During my interview, I was asked, “Would you consider staying for a year or two?” I told the panel, “If there’s any one thing I’ve learned, it’s that everything changes. There’s no point in making plans because it’s all going to change anyway. It’s just a matter of being able to go with the flow.”

Well. Here’s my river. And I’m flowing.

I was going to write a whole long post here, but instead I’ll write this.

I JUST GOT OFFERED A NEW JOB!!!!!!!! NO MORE ASSHOLE BOARD MEMBER AND AWFUL AWFUL SUPERVISION AND BULLSHIT!!!!!! NO MORE AMERICORPS TRAINING SESSIONS WHERE I GET TREATED CRAPPILY!!!! YAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!! More later.

*is fizzing excitedly into stardust*

Dear Bachelor of Arts degree,

I thought I’d be using you. Especially when I took this job to promote literacy in underserved communities. I am so good at creating, developing, and executing flawless programs that receive tremendous positive feedback. I am a strong writer and a stronger thinker. I’m a good team player, but I know when to step up and take the reins when I need to. But I’m afraid I’ve failed you. I work a grand total of about two days a week and spend the rest “working” from home, playing online, or reading and watching DVDs at work. I send out a lot of e-mails. I am excellent at e-mails. In fact, if there was an award for e-mail writing, I do think I’d be in the running for first prize.

My brain? May be turning moldy from its lack of use. In fact, if it weren’t for this blog, I think I’d never have anything insightful or new to think because it’s so sorely underused. All those papers and books I read and that incredibly long but worthwhile thesis that I wrote? Where is that going? All those organizations I ran, the events I put together, the accolades I received? That’s not me anymore.

I’m sorry I failed you.

ds.

____________________________________________________________________

Dear Master of Arts degree in progress,

I suck. I know I suck. I suck so much that apparently, a freaking retail job at a prominent bookseller won’t even offer me a full-time job. Just a part-time job at base pay. Never mind the SIX years of retail experience I have and kicking ass at it. Or the B.A. that I have. Or the M.A. that I almost have.

The sixty grand I’ve spent thus far towards receiving you? Out the window. I’ve already reconciled myself with the fact that I have no idea how I’m ever going to pay you off - maybe I should just quit while I’m ahead, even though I only have a freaking 15 credits left? Why don’t they tell you before you start graduate school that a B.A. means nothing anymore and an M.A. means nothing anymore because you can’t even get any more entry level jobs unless you have three years of being an administrative assistant? How does anyone get anywhere in this world?

I’m sorry I failed you too.

ds.

____________________________________________________________________

Dear job that I currently hate,

Please stop making me feel guilty because you aren’t worthy of my affection or what little it is that I have left of my brain. You used me as your scapegoat; you didn’t like me when I came as I am and you didn’t like me when I became what you wanted me to become. And now you’re trying to overhaul your entire work plan to “accommodate” me? And asking me to sleep on my decision? As though I haven’t been debating about this for a month? As though I haven’t been stressing out about this for a month? As though it doesn’t kill me that every time my parents call or my grandparents call or ANYONE IN MY FAMILY calls that I have to lie and pretend I love my job and that I’m happy and I don’t regret this decision because otherwise, I’d have to listen to them tell me how they were right and I was wrong and how I should just move back home because the West Coast is clearly not for me, I’m a New York girl through and through, and besides, aren’t there so many more jobs available to someone with your degree?

I’ve slept on it. I want out. And still you make me sit through meetings where we talk about how this can possibly work out for all of us, ignoring my thoughts and feelings of “I DON’T FIT HERE. IT’S NOT WORKING.” When are you going to listen?

I didn’t fail you. You failed me.

ds.

I should have known back when my doctor thought I might have mono and I wasn’t completely devastated at the prospect of packing up and moving back home after fighting so hard to move across country in the first place.

I should have known when my boss told me that the board finds me aggressive and opinionated and guilty of pushing an agenda and asked me to wait for him to specifically give me instructions, despite them hiring me because I am a self-starter and motivated individual. I’ve never been called aggressive in the past for any of the many things I’ve been involved with, nor have my opinions ever colored my performance. I am proud of my ability to be objective and rational.

I should have realized when I went on a job interview with a rather prominent bookstore and ended up speaking with a woman who I’ve talked to in the past for my job about fundraisers, book drives, and book donations, when she told me I was the only nice person she’s met from the organization I work for. That she’s always found them to be pushy and aggressive and perfectly rude and how refreshing it was to have me come along, but she didn’t understand how I got involved with them.

I should have realized when I tabulated the survey results for a community event where peope received free books and paraphernalia from the organization, yet still had no idea who they were and what they did. Nor did they really care, unless they were given free books.

For an organization that claims to promote literacy, their most effective programs are a summer reading program that was established this past year, a calendar, and lots of book giveaways. There’s very little hands-on contact with the community. There’s very little in the way of scoring how they are effectively resolving the issue of literacy in the community. You can give books away, but what good does it do when a 12 year old can barely read a book written for a second grader?

I made a mistake. I believed that they truly wanted to make a difference and renew a passion and love for literature in children to help deter violence. I am an intellectual - I won’t deny that. I’m guilty of constantly thinking of how things could be different, how I can make a difference, of overanalyzing everything to death, of being more logical than emotional. However, I have incredible passion for literature. I moved out here with a box and a half of books that I couldn’t live without (after telling myself I would only allow one box of books - that’s all.) There are more in my parents’ garage in New Jersey, but I couldn’t justify bringing more than what I already had.

Since the days of visiting my local library and getting special permission to take out 30 or 40 books a week and going out for matzoh ball soup and a brisket sandwich at my favorite Jewish deli with my dad and sister in Brooklyn to now, I’ve never stopped loving books. I’m not one of those readers who gets engrossed in a book and feels it happening to them. There’s always a safe distance - where I can marvel at the ideas and thoughts and happenstances of the characters and sometimes think how amazing these worlds are that an author conceives, or how grateful I am that we’re in a different time and a different place than projected. But I fall for every single one of them, with admiration and respect. I loved the feel of a fresh printed manuscript or partial and sitting down in a comfortable, oversized armchair at the agency I used to work for, and thinking “Maybe this will be the next big thing.”

It hurts to know that I have become the scapegoat for when someone’s ideas don’t go the right way. It hurts even more that my boss won’t even stand up for me when someone berates me for doing something he specifically asked me to do. It hurts to hear that people find me aggressive when I’ve only done the things I’ve been asked to do. I’m bothered when I try explaining to him how I don’t feel supported and how there’s an extreme level of unprofessionalism taking place, and he tells me I’m responding to the things he said last week and how I’m going through a low point and not to lose heart.

I’ve lost heart. I won’t ever lose heart for literature. Or encouraging kids to read. It’s what I’ve been doing for the last three years, between college and grad school and now. But I can’t go down to the office anymore and pretend to feel great passion for an organization that seems so resistant to really making major changes. They have the potential. I believed in them - I had to, or I would have never moved out here in the first place.

When I told my mom what I was doing, she said “Don’t you realize? This is how they get people to do their grunt work without having to pay them.” I told her she was wrong, that I would be creating programs, that I would be empowering kids in communities that are riddled with violence and a lack of education through literature, that I would be making changes. “Sure, there are some days I’ll be in the office. But I’ll be raising money, I’ll be putting together programs, I’ll be meeting with board members.” She was right. They don’t need me. They need a puppet office clerk.

Yet I feel as though I am betraying them, despite their plan to not move forward on anything until after the new year, leaving me with virtually nothing to do but count books. I apply for jobs online and make phone calls and it feels sneaky, deceitful, and underhanded. I have to go to a program tonight for other AmeriCorps employees tonight and smile and be happy and excited for the future, when I am 85% sure that I will never see most of them again. I’m looking into jobs that are beneath me intellectually, that make me feel as though I’ve wasted my college degree and my almost-complete master’s degree. Yet there’s a sense of comfort to them, because they’re retail, and I know what I’m doing and I’m good at retail, despite how much I hate hate hate retail. I’m not ready to move back to New York yet, even though professionally, it makes more sense. Because it’s where all the publishing jobs are and I may have a job offer waiting for me when I do return home.

I hate that I’ve been put in this position and have so little guidance as to where to turn next. I hate that I will never be one of those people who can easily accept things and instead, must constantly question everything. I’m disappointed at how far off the mark I was when I accepted this job with giddiness and excitement. Someone said “The grass always looks greener on the other side,” but I can’t justify making $5.00 an hour for a job I hate. I could if I had passion for the job, but that’s burnt out, leaving me with remorse and sadness that I couldn’t be that person to impact change in an organization that could do so much.

Sometimes, what you think might be your dream job turns out to be anything but.

Dear Board Members of Literacy Advocacy Group I Work For,

Stop spending money we don’t fucking have. And when I remind you that we’re already going over budget, don’t fucking accuse me of lecturing you on a fucking fact that you should already know. I appreciate how nice and special you want to make everything for (project) but realize that these kids are already getting some tremendously awesome things - even I’m jealous of the stash they’re getting.

Are you working 12 hour days to make sure this shit all gets put together and make it work? Have you redone the budget a minimum of six times to accommodate for all the last minute expenses? When you look at all the numbers and you see how much money we don’t have, THEN you can fucking accuse me of lecturing you.

Until then? Fuck off.

Distracted Spunk.

I am appalled.

I spent the day reviewing English and Language Arts test scores for the kids in the district we serve. The statewide average is only 42% for kids who read at a proficient or above proficient level. For the district we serve, there is a gross discrepancy between the kids who attend schools in the more affluent areas as opposed to those in the less affluent areas. For instance - in the less affluent areas, they range from 10%-34% of students reading at or above proficiency. In the more, they range from 78-89%.

The disparity between class is incredibly evident based on the scores. I know we don’t really have a caste system, but we might as well. It’s not just California. Nationwide, kids in less affluent areas are subjected to a number of social issues that make it difficult for them to compete with their counterparts. For instance, the town we work out of most often is riddled with gang violence. Three people were shot randomly two weeks ago, including a young child, simply for being outside. The houses look perfectly innocent until you look more closely and realize there are bars on almost every window.

What bewilders me is I grew up loving books. I’m not afraid to say that I am addicted to books. I had the fortune of being introduced to it by my parents at a young age and it was phenomenally easy for me to slip into the world of imagination. I used to be challenged by my librarian because I would max out my library card every week with the number of books I could take. Even now, I test the waters with how many books I can take out at once at the library here.

In a conversation with my lovely castle partner (we lived in a castle for a month in 2004), we discussed why literature is becoming such a fading art and how it relates to low literacy scores. She’s an English teacher in New Jersey, and an ass-kicking one as well. Her ideas for her students are so smart, I wish she were my teacher sometimes. She raised the point that people just don’t have the patience to read anymore, not with the easy distractions of TV and the internet. I’m certainly guilty of picking up a book before bed, only to put it aside in favor of a TV show or a DVD to watch. Sometimes, it’s easier and less mentally taxing. But there’s nothing like picking up a book and getting lost in its pages, delving into the depths of your imagination and creating a scene based on the words one reads.

What I guess I’m getting at is there has to be a way to encourage students to read. And it can’t just be Harry Potter. Reading needs to be made into an interactive sport again. My job has a point of encouraging parents to read to their kids for 20 minutes a day, minimum. But what about when the parents are unable to do so? Then the schools need to get involved. Or the after-school program. Literature needs to become a part of our mainstream culture again - the very act of being able to read opens so many doors and gateways to various opportunities that can help kids move to a new point in their lives, regardless of what their background is.

Gymnast Drummer Boy calls me an idealist. Maybe I am. I think there needs to be a way of reconnecting literature with individuals. It’s why I went for my master’s. It’s why I moved to California. It’s what I need to do for my thesis, and what I need to do for me. If I can find a way to create programs that get kids reading, or get parents involved with their kids, then I’ve done my job. If I get one kid to improve their reading ability and discover the joy of a new book with fresh pages and the smell of a printing press still lingering, then that’s all I need.

Does making a few phone calls and sending out a bunch of e-mails make up for the fact that I’ve done absolutely nothing today other than read blogs?

Answer: Yes.