I’m not myself today. I edited 6 stories, I think, while doing some admin stuff. It was supposed to be ok but I wasn’t. I should have just let this be a basura day but I worked my ass off even after publishing two stories yesterday.
I felt ugly and fat today. I feel inconsequential. I just want to lay on a hammock and let this feeling fade away.
Being triggered so much last night reminded me that I should be kinder to myself. I need to put these feelings on paper, with color. Just to let this all out. I’m not good with drawing and painting but it’s an outlet that is different from my day job. Cheaper than photography too.
I clicked. Yes, I finally bought that Kuretake Gansai Tambi. I justified the expense as necessary for my mental health. And that #1 brush.
I put them in frames temporarily so that the cats wouldn’t be able to destroy them. The Baguio trees would be given to Kr while the flowers would be hung downstairs until I produce better ones.
UPDATE: I couldn’t sleep
My gay friend, K, told me he’s in Makati Med for a burst appendix. He should’ve told me earlier so I could’ve visited him. He said it’s ok, he was in a lot of pain anyway. I told him I’m gonna send him home cooked food when he comes home to his condo. He says he loves my cooking and was delighted. I’ll throw in a Chinese botanical drawing to cheer him up. He has been very supportive of my art therapy.
I have a lot of friends, I have to remind myself. They love me and I love them. I should count my blessings.
This feeling should fade away. Tomorrow will be better. I’ll just have to adjust and work somewhere else probably.
Maybe on Saturday we can go to National Art Museum and then to Intramuros. Have lunch or dinner along Manila Bay.
This clip makes you think Metro Manila is ok. 😶 So deceptive.
One of my favorite songs to sing in the past 14 months has been “Burnout” by Ebe Dancel but the version I’ve been singing is the one by Ben&Ben and Clara Benin. In appreciation of the artist/songwriter, I sent him a message, just to let him know that his work is important. I also happened to be the sister of one of his high school friends and we went to the same high school. He also struggled with depression after the breakdown of his marriage…so sometimes it helps if we send some kind of appreciation to the artists that we like since it gives them affirmation that what they’re doing makes sense even if the world doesn’t. It’s like when I receive Twitter direct messages from my readers, saying I was spot on with my last story or the stories coming from Southeast Asia are good, while I personally struggle keeping it together. Kind words are salve to a wounded soul.
Today I was in the mood to be a little extra so I made bacon-wrapped enoki mushrooms with the leftover homemade “Swedish” meatballs (the Ikea version recipe I found online) for brunch. The girls were happy.
We didn’t go out today so we can rest and I can attend to my container garden that has been partly destroyed by the torrential rain earlier this week. I replaced the ones that drowned and trimmed the damaged foliage. Despite the damage, some blooms made me smile. For several months I struggled to make the mini roses bloom again. Which they did today.
Photo by CallMeCreation.com
And against all odds, some flowers survived the rain. Gives me some kind of assurance that I will somehow bloom again, too.
Blooming in the dark. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
Just more tender loving care (constant watering, trimming, and fertilizing and re-potting) is needed and they will bloom again. Like I needed to attend to my needs and paid attention to myself (self-care), I will bloom again. It may take a long time but I just need to be patient. Once established, a torrential rain will not wash me out that easily.
This is Mochi (whom our neighbors call Whitey). He has healed really well after his neutering and he will soon receive his rabies and 4-in-1 vaccines c/o my neighbor. He loves the bed that we made for him just outside our door. He no longer bothers our cats by the window.
Mochi. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
Once he has been vaccinated, the girls and I will attempt to give him a bath. Our cats hate baths.
Stories of two women scorned
I was chatting with the mother of the epileptic child who just died last month (my colleague’s ex-wife/scorned wife) and she was asking me about the annulment procedures and how much it costs. I told her better prepare half a million pesos because it’s that costly. I told her I am writing the check for the acceptance fee of my lawyer and I need to raise the other funds for the billable hours of my lawyer when hearings start. She got discouraged but then she said she will not file now since the father of her child is still grieving…too torn because he is being eaten up guilt and regret. I said she still has time to save up for the annulment.
Let’s call her N. She said her scoundrel of a husband (my colleague) had been having sex with this young journo in Sogo motels while she is in the hospital taking care of their child after every epilepsy episode. Just thinking about it makes her blood boil, she said. She said this husband was always absent and didn’t give time to their daughter when she was still alive and now he’s paying the price. He lost so many moments he could have been with their daughter but now she’s gone, he can’t bring back the lost time. It was her brother who assisted her every hospitalization of her daughter. She said she wants to be happy and find someone who will respect her and love her that’s why she’s making the separation legal.
I told her that’s the best move than we can make for ourselves. We shouldn’t just be accepting loose change for affection. That’s the problem with me (and her); we just accepted the bare minimum, thinking it was normal that it should be us who should be giving more into the relationship. “The next time,” I told N, “if I should choose to have a next time, the next person should treat me as if I was the best thing that happened to him. That I am precious to him. That he will appreciate me and love me and not treat me like a human appliance, as you termed it.”
J’s thank you doesn’t mean anything—it’s more of a move to soothe his conscience than pure gratitude—considering how he treated me like a rag and how he cheated on me while I supported him in all aspects. As N termed it, I was a human appliance and an ATM. Imagine, the slut moved into his condo unit a few days after he broke up with me. I could have learned about it a year ago given that I am well connected with real estate companies, especially this particular developer. Plus Jo worked at this company. But I chose not to because I wanted a clean cut. It is only now I learned all about this shit. Now everything fell into place for me—everything was premeditated. What he said about he wasn’t even thinking of breaking up with me that night of Dec 17, 2020–it was a lie. He was just waiting for the right time that I give up so that the break up will not be on his conscience. The reason why he was so angry at me for possibly dropping by unannounced was because he may be found out. If he really was thankful for everything I did for him, he should have treated me more kindly when we were together. I wonder if that’s the kind of treatment of women he had seen growing up.
So I told N I’m so done with men, especially Asian men. There’s something in the way they were raised by their Asian moms that made them so self-centered. She agreed since her ex (my colleague) is such an asshole and he was raised by a supermom who catered to him head to foot. Even J himself told me that his mom (who eventually became a solo parent) had a hard time with him, with his expensive tastes (i.e. his demands for cheeses and exotic food).
My journey has been so exhausting. So I told N that it was good that she’s still open to having another relationship after her scumbag of a husband. While me, I think I’m so done with it.
This other story is about my childhood friend who is now a lawyer in Singapore (who talked to me on FB messenger while on a cruise yesterday). She is paddling in three rivers–three different men, including her soon-to-be ex-husband. Long story short, she is looking for affection and running after them/looking for affirmation because she is a co-dependent like me. She grew up in a co-dependent household with her mom being the rag (co-dependent) and her dad the abusive husband (dependent). Anyway, she is justifying her actions because of her co-dependency issues. I told her she is just making herself more miserable and making her co-dependency syndrome an excuse. And exacting revenge on the woman her other guy is seeing will only fire up her anger and not give her peace.
“You are more than this. You are above this. Please, stop digging yourself into deeper shit. Heal yourself first because this will be a never-ending cycle,” I told her. “You are so messed up!”
I told her that I am also aware of my co-dependency issues but instead of using this as an excuse to fuel my desperation, I used this as a weapon against myself.
“I had desperately wanted to talk to him (J), I desperately wanted to be with him. I was already dying inside, but no, I chose not to act on it. I did not chase. I stopped all communication because all I had was my dignity. Imagine if I acted on my desperation for love, I would have been more humiliated and crushed today learning that he had been cheating on me despite giving him the world,” I was shouting and crying at the same time when I told this to my childhood friend. “It was my self-respect that saved me. Give yourself some self-respect. You are more than this person who is desperate for affection and seeking it in the wrong places/persons. Please, lift yourself out of this mess,” I cried.
This need for love, trying to fill the void by chasing affection from other people, can be cured by giving yourself the love, respect, and appreciation you deserve. You need to fill up the void yourself before you can find real love because you will discover your true worth, I told her. And you will now have a gauge for the next person, to know if he is enough, if his love is worthy of you. It’s hard, I know. It was an uphill climb for me. It has been 14 months but now I am slowly realizing that self-love is the best treatment I can give myself. “Please love yourself first. Appreciate yourself first. You are not a rag,” I said.
It’s true. I had been healing myself by giving myself the love that I had given J. I’m not there yet (as the unconditional love I gave him is still beyond my comprehension), but getting there…
I told her: Go up the ship’s deck. Watch the sunset. Put on make-up and dress up. Have nice cocktail on your hand while you lounge on the deck. Treat yourself. Pamper yourself. Love yourself. Put all your energies on yourself instead of exacting revenge on some woman or on R. Or trying to bait H. Or letting M dangle. Believe me you’ll be happier in the end.”
I told her I could have exacted revenge on J, I could have messed him up and told the Bureau of Immigration stuff so he could be blocked from renewing his tourist visa. I could have messed his business/es. I could have destroyed him among the rest of Philippine media and corporations but I chose not to. I could have stalked and made a mess with all his women (I could have researched and do some sleuthing because I’m an investigative journo by training) but I chose peace. I took the high road. I chose to heal. I’ll just leave it to God. As my colleague-friend said, expend your energies on more productive pursuits instead of wasting it on a worthless person.
I thank all the women friends who have supported me and empowered me. I’m in a much better place right now. I’m still messed up, still going through therapy, still hurting but I am slowly healing.
That’s why I’m helping these two women in my stories above. I’m paying it forward.
Brent oil went past USD 100 per barrel today as the Ukraine crisis intensifies. EU is basically cut off from Russian gas, which could send the price of all fossil fuels skyrocketing. Two weeks ago, I was just talking with a CEO of an LNG company who assured me that the sky-high spot market prices of LNG would later come down as more bunker ships will come online and upstream players are already ramping up their production. But then here comes Putin disrupting everything. Mind you, we are still reeling from the economic fallout caused by the pandemic.
But as a regular human being, this is a disaster. Especially since the vegetables I bought today from UP already cost PHP 1,000 in total. This is the reason why the poor cannot afford to eat vegetables. Either they choose vegetables or meat, not both in one meal because there’s no way that you can spend this much for vegetables if you’re only earning PHP 500 a day. The cost of transporting these goods are now astronomical given that we have a very inefficient agricultural supply chain and the rising cost of fuel is compounding the situation.
My veggies that cost PHP 1,000. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
Electricity costs will kill us this summer ☀🌡since the Philippines is highly dependent on diesel, coal, and gas to fuel base load power plants. We have a lot of renewable energy power plants but they are volatile because they are not consistent 24/7 and the grid cannot support such volatility. It needs constant supply that only base loads can offer. And so far our base load plants are fired by dirty fuels and geothermal.
This morning I brought the feral male white cat to PAWS for his neutering. All was well and right now he’s recuperating in my neighbor’s backdoor after fetching him from PAWS at past 4 pm.
Whitey inside the cage behind the door in the isolation area of PAWS. Photo by CallMeCreation.comSome PAWS merchandise to help subsidize the needs of the animals under their care. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
And finally the expensive keyboard arrived. It’s sooooo girly and clicky. Hahahaha! Some serotonin boost for me while working. I am now transcribing a lengthy interview (over an hour) and I love typing on this thing; it’s like typing on an old-school typewriter.
Raspberry color POP keyboard and mouse from Logitech. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
The mouse is really silent but hefty. The top part is held by magnets so when you accidentally drop the mouse, it will just come open but it will not break. I read that they did this to avoid breakage when you drop it; once the clicker or wheel is damaged, the mouse is already useless. The silent mouse is kinda weird to use when playing games though because you need tactile gamepads or mouse when playing.
The keyboard is heavy, which is a characteristic of real mechanical keyboards. I can swap the keys on the right side (the weird emoji shortcuts) and program them on the Logitech app. However, I don’t think I can switch other keys, unless other manufacturers make rounded keys for the likes of Logitech. This keyboard comes with extra keycaps for the emoji buttons. I thought I won’t be using them but—well, well, the emoji keys were useful when I was talking to my colleague/friend, L, this afternoon. I think I need to buy the separate numpad of similar design on Lazada. I already have it on my cart. I need it for work since I deal with a lot of numbers, ironically.
Speaking of my colleague, L, we were talking this afternoon about some stuff that she missed while she was away in Switzerland during the first two weeks of Feb. So I filled her in on the latest brouhaha involving J and the stuff I discovered. She said, “I don’t know why we always come across this kind of guys.” She also had a bad experience with a guy we code-named Jaded. Another narcissist who gaslighted her for a long, long time. He also led her on for a couple of years.
She said she recently met someone interesting in Switzerland and she wants to see him again. However, she said she has to be realistic because they’re far apart. I said at least she was able to meet a decent guy. If you consider meetings like this a hit or miss, mostly it’s a miss. As L’s friend said, for every 100 Tinder/Bumble date, there’s only one decent guy worth seeing again.
“I think you can meet up with people while healing. Don’t set so many limits for yourself,” she told me.
“But it’s scary. There are a lot of evil men out there. After my experience with J, I no longer know who is evil like him and who isn’t,” I told her.
She conceded. “Yeah, it’s hard to tell.”
She knows that because when we were talking about J that week that he and I started going out in Singapore four years ago, we were discussing that he seemed like a decent and harmless guy. How completely wrong we were. I’m still paying the price of that wrong judgment.
“He was a bad accident that caused me my sanity. I’m still undergoing psychotherapy until August. That’s why I’m scared of meeting people because I’m not yet well. I’m not yet sleeping properly,” I told her.
I’d rather stay home and stick to my friends. There are only very few decent men out there. Especially at my age group.
I’m happy that L has found a decent guy after that episode with that horrible Jaded. She was crying to me one time after Jaded invalidated her feelings and I told her he is gaslighting her…and that she is going nowhere. That was the last straw. She quit Jaded and enrolled for a CFA review. She threw herself into reviewing and she passed level 1. She is now reviewing for level 2. She sounds quite happy now.
So assignment to myself: 1) work double-time on my healing then 2) achieve some kind of certification as I mentioned here earlier–just for the heck of it–so I have something productive to occupy me and not mope around because of a person who did not add any value to me. 3) Then be a famous writer tucked away in some little hovel at the foot of a mountain (which I will be in a year). The famous part, I will be working on it 😂😂😂. Either I work on an academic book on journalism or I publish a book under fiction. I have an anthology of short stories with me but I don’t know where to publish it since most literary magazines I know of here have already stopped printing. We don’t have a version of The New Yorker here. A decade ago or so, I was working on a YA novel but I quit. One really needs a lot of concentration, discipline, and free time to be able to produce something like that.
In the meantime, I will continue urban sketching to keep me grounded and a bit happy.
Anilao, Mabini, Batangas. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
Old and fresh wounds have opened up and as expected, I had trouble sleeping despite taking alprazolam. I hate this. I thought I’m done with this. I thought I’m mending. I thought I’m going to be alright. I thought wrong.
I’m still so, so far. A little thank you sends so many bitter memories and feelings. I’m like this broken vase that keeps cracking, breaking, and repairing itself with little bits and pieces of whatever could be salvaged.
I hope I’m not a zombie by Monday since Asian markets will be back again. Inflation concerns are creeping up. I should be alert and scoop up FMETF when it dips. I have US-East Asia de-SPAC stories to write. I have a lot of things to write 🤦🏻♀️
I want a huge dose of Vitamin sea now but I have to be careful. I checked with Blue Ribbon yesterday if my reservation for last year is still intact; they said it’s there and I just have to tell them when I will have the 4D-3N reservation. Probably we’ll go there when the winds are kinder and the diving sites are much pleasant. I would have to buy the doughnut and diving buoy. I should buy those fins meant for free dives, too. How about underwater camera???
By June probably we can go to Bohol (if resorts are already operating) or Moalboal for the sardine run. The girls suggested Palawan for my solo trip to refresh me. They know everything that’s why they are rallying behind me.
Do the things that I love to banish this pain. Do the things that make me ME and not feel small when others seem to lead shinier lives. I’m not like that. I like contemplative activities, as well as the outdoors, but I also like creating a home. I like taking care of others. K said he misses my cooking so I said we’ll have barbeque outside my apartment with other friends. Just no talk of his sexcapades with his one-night-stand boylets or else my neighbors will be scandalized.
Photo by CallMeCreation.com
I finished one panel. Two panels more for the girls’ bedroom. Then I will tackle the curtains for the living room.
Later today or tomorrow when I’m feeling much better, I will tackle the container garden. Seeing flowers make me happy. I like working with my hands, be it cooking, gardening or crafting. But I also like having battle of wits with CEOs for mental calisthenics. Putting a lot of platitudes on a social media profile only makes one look shallow. I’d rather have cerebral swordfights with these guys and earn their respect. During my last interview, the CEO of a firm abroad told me he enjoyed our conversation because I get it.
Hmm, maybe I should have a side gig interviewing people on TV. I can probably pitch…
Photo by CallMeCreation.com Photo by CallMeCreation.com Photo by CallMeCreation.com
I will get through this. One day there will be no more pain. I will look back when I’m 60 and say, yeah, I’ve lived a good life: raised my kids, have good friends, did the things I love and not chase shallowness and illusions. And yeah, libraries have the books I wrote.
One day, no more pain. Oh God, it hurts right now.
It’s 5:39 am. It seems like meeting daylight is a regular thing for me now.
I’ve come to hate the night. What used to be a time that offers rest and tranquility is now a time of chaos and restlessness. I can’t take alprazolam again because it’s a controlled substance, therefore, addictive. For goodness’ sake, it’s a tranquilizer!
When will this end? Haven’t I carried this cross long enough? I wish I could snap my fingers and boom–it’s gone. No, it doesn’t work that way.
I’m trying. I’m really trying.
If loving unconditionally means long-term suffering like this, then I no longer choose to love like that ever. I am really swearing off this thing called love. It’s just for my girls and the cats, that’s it. God, I can’t take this anymore.
Of course I’m exaggerating but this video gives me lots of ideas.
Americans keep on asking us Asians (especially Filipinos), what’s with Spam? They told me they really don’t eat it and it’s usually the lower income people who just buy these in the US. I told them that our penchant for eating Spam has something to do with history and sociology more than its culinary characteristics.
I was told by elders that during World War II, Filipinos had no source of meat for years. When liberation time came, the relief goods that were parachuted from the sky contained Spam and corned beef. For people who had barely enough to eat, Spam was like luxury. My ex-father-in-law said that he was 13 years old when the relief boxes were dropped in their province and it was his first time to eat corned beef out of a can. And the experience was glorious. Since then he only ate corned beef straight out of a can, just like when he first tasted it.
But I digress.
So in the years following the war, Spam was still inaccessible to Filipinos since it was only manufactured in the US and imports were rarely sold in local supermarkets. Only those who had relatives in the US get to have Spam or those who are rich enough to fly to the US for holidays can buy it. Another way of getting the stuff is if you can get to Olongapo and buy it from the PX goods shops there. American servicemen who wanted to earn extra cash sell their personal supplies like soaps, shampoos, and canned goods to entrepreneurs outside the US bases in Pampanga (Clark Airbase) and Zambales (Subic Naval base). So in a way, having Spam in your pantry is like a status symbol then. I was not enamored of Spam like my brother because I didn’t grow up eating that. I remember having the Filipino luncheon meat (Gusto/Philips brand) or the Chinese one (Ma Ling) for breakfast. I think my brother had access to Spam because he stayed with my maternal grandpa during school holidays growing up and they always get canned goods from the US because half of the family lived there. And only special grandchildren get to have access to that–my brother was a favorite. He had chinky eyes like my grandpa.
I think this is the same reason why Okinawans had access to Spam–they have the American bases there. The Spam rice rolls and other sub-Japanese cuisine with Spam originated from there.
Later Spam became a regular in Filipino pantries across all economic classes after Purefoods San Miguel had formed a joint venture with Hormel and started manufacturing Spam locally. I have Spam in my pantry for emergencies, like when I run out of things to cook. I dice it to combine with fried rice and eggs. And now various ways of making onigiri.
Speaking of gimbap/rice rolls, I discovered this yummy condiment:
Roasted ginger sauce. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
Roasted Ginger Sauce. I can’t remember how or where I got it from (SM Marikina? Or someone gave it to me?) but it doesn’t matter. I use this on gimbap, onigiri, or egg rolls. Heck, I can use it on everything. It’s lovely, I tell you.
Today was basura day again. I did nothing but sleep–I literally slept all day, hence, I was a useless journo/editor again. I freaking don’t know why I was so tired. I tried sleeping early last night but I woke up at 3 am for some unknown reason and only managed to sleep at 5 am. I have to tell my doctor tomorrow that my body clock is messed up for weeks now. I HAVE A WEBINAR TOMORROW and a press conference and three stories to write. Damn it.
Will my doctor take me off alprazolam immediately? I don’t know. I don’t think this is withdrawal symptoms because I was fine before this. I think she can take me off alprazolam now since I have less anxiety caused by J or anything to do with him nowadays. That’s why I keep on writing memories of him here so I can let it all out and I won’t get triggered as much. It’s like building my immunity; similar to injecting myself with dead coronavirus. The best description I have of me now, save for the sleeping issues, is I’m placid.
And as long as I don’t see that girl on social media as well, I think I’m fine. I don’t know why a girl almost half my age can get to me like this. She’s not even pretty but heck she caused me so much pain and insecurity.
I’m still fixing myself.
It’s funny. It’s almost 14 months and it feels like it just happened yesterday. This is the longest and most difficult heartbreak I’ve had and it’s not something to be proud of. It’s unfair to me, too. Here he was, gallivanting and chasing after very young girls four months after our breakup (or maybe earlier, I dunno), while I wilted and died. It’s not about him moving on quickly that hurts–I already expected that because it’s in his personality. It’s chasing people in my circle is the the hateful part. It’s like an affront to me. Like he’s deliberately letting me know that, “Hey, I have moved on, Bitch, and she’s just like you, a journo but almost half your age.” I don’t know if he’s that dense that he has forgotten that I have introduced the girl to him after my company’s event and our trade organization’s event was just in the next ballroom (where we crashed the dinner and we were pretty drunk then). And maybe he underestimated how wide my network is.
Anyway, that’s all in the past. I’m trying to heal. Getting bogged down and killed TWICE was something for the books. I have to admit he did break me. I have to stop pretending that I didn’t break because the truth is I succumbed to alcohol and I realized I needed professional help to get me out of that dark hole. I was already drinking myself into oblivion, for goodness’ sake! Imbibing alcohol every night to help me sleep was a perfect road to self-destruction. Because of my children I had to get help–I’m all they got. My family has no idea what I was going through. They thought I was being introverted again and I was being my usual self that I wanted to stay away from them. It’s equivalent to my teenage self locking herself up in her bedroom to be away from them. Being very near family is sometimes toxic, too. That’s why I’m still unsure if moving back into my hometown is a wise decision.
But this is for my kids. I’m doing this for my kids.
So as K asked me one time, are you ready to face him if by accident you bump into each other? I said I don’t know but I’m bracing myself. Eventually, that may happen, either here in Manila or Singapore. Our world is small. But hopefully I’m already well by that time. I don’t have a mean bone in my body so the desire to get even is not there. I don’t want to melt as well and have all my defenses pulled down. I hope I’m over him by that time so I won’t fall or get affected negatively. I hope I’m healthier physically and mentally, too, by that time.
My body is still battling with this weird internal clock of mine. I had trouble sleeping last night that at 6 am today I was still awake. I decided to go downstairs and tackle long-forgotten chores. I stored our Christmas decor in that closet under the stairs but I had to take out a lot of crap before I can shove it in. The crap got brought outside our gate for the dumpster divers. Then I cooked rice and steamed mantou before finally I was tired enough to fall asleep at past 7 am.
Woke up at 10 and cooked lunch.
Photo by CallMeCreation.com
After lunch I slept again until almost 5 pm.
I feel like a vampire. I don’t know if this is long-Covid, withdrawal symptoms from my alprazolam that my shrink is weaning me off from, or anxiety because of my blog entry yesterday. My body is so messed up right now.
Because I am basically a zombie today, I decided not to cook dinner. I ordered pizza from Yellow Cab.
Photo by CallMeCreation.com Photo by CallMeCreation.com
Good thing I was too sleepy or else I would have gone to SM Marikina and would have shopped. I already see a pattern here. Whenever I get upset, I wanted to shop for crap. Some kind of serotonin boost, to make me feel better about myself. Because I was feeling sorry for myself yesterday, remembering how loathed I was/am.
The thing here is I shouldn’t be seeking sources of serotonin boosters because I have another medication for that (escitalopram) that balances this out.
Staying cooped up really makes things worse.
It’s a wonder that one person/trauma can really affect one’s life, no? It’s so fucked up that I want to scold myself for being so weak like that. It’s so unfair too. What did I do to deserve this?