A Look Back: Beyblade

 

(From previous blog, unedited)

When it comes to remembering Beyblade, I feel like I’m scuba-diving into the recesses of my mind in search of something notable to talk about. Before I delve into what little I was able to piece together from the fragments of my hazy memory, allow me to clear the air on this first. I haven’t been exposed to anything beyblade for at least twelve years now, and just like with my post about Pokémon, the only refresher I gave myself was the opening to the show. With that out of the way, let’s get started.

This was another one of the shows I had watched as a kid before discovering it was an “anime”. As with most of the other shows from my childhood, anime in particular, I still maintain a great fondness for the openings, even Beyblade’s, which upon repeated viewing as an adult, does not hold up. Honestly, I can’t really pinpoint anything good about the opening for Beyblade, apart from the catchy dubbed lyrics barging into the metaphorical music room just to repeat the same two words again and again, like they’re trying to rally a punk protest or something.

If you asked me “What was the story of Beyblade?” I would probably stand there with my eyes widening in horror at the realization that I have no idea what happened or why it happened. Though that’s more of a fault on my memory than anything else. All I can recall was the bitter-sweet rivalry between the protagonist Tyson, and the better character Kai. Beyblade battles would ensue, and giant wind monsters would appear from the beyblades… because anime. Aside from that, there were tournaments. I assume more than one happened, because I dropped off the show during the first one, maybe around when Kai lost his duel.

I’m not going to lie. The whole giant wind monster thing appearing from beyblades was the main reason I got beyblades for Christmas. There were, of course, duels at school and I remember none of us knew how to properly play, and that my chord would get stuck in the damn beyblade all the time. But there was this one time we played in the courtyard and I launched my beyblade on top of someone else’s (like in the show) and it was one of the proudest moments of my childhood (which says a lot). Our goal was to try and get them to clash into each other as much as possible and see how long we could get a match going, but what usually ended up happening was someone would launch their beyblade and knock the other one down a slope or something and automatically win the game. It was a pretty cheap tactic to wait and aim the beyblade at the already launched beyblade so you would knock it over, but that’s what everyone did and no one really cried over it, so I guess it was cool.
Back to the show. I don’t really remember much about the characters, except that I thought Kai was cool and… yeah that pretty much sums it up. I’m sure if I re-watched the show I’d have more to say on the matter, but I doubt I’d be able to get past the first episode, or put up with the voice acting, dialogue, animation and premise at this stage in my life. Despite my current indifference to the show, I do recall enjoying the idea of it at the time. And I believe re-watching it will only taint what fondness I have left for the show, so I’d rather just let bygones be bygones and move on to other shows.

~ Ace

A Look Back: Pokémon

Might re-do this one in the future. Don’t think I did it enough justice here, but I was scrambling for memories of the show, despite having poured so much of my childhood into watching it. Hardly bothered with the games, to be honest (I know, I’m as surprised as you are, believe me). But alas, here is what I wrote about Pokémon earlier this year:

(From previous blog, unedited)

My memory is atrocious when it comes to… most things, really. Yet, I feel compelled to indulge in a little nostalgia detour and revisit the world of Pokémon. It was one of the first shows to get me into anime, at a time when I had never heard the term “anime” before. As a kid you aren’t really picky about the shows you watch, which is probably why when I look back at all the shows I watched, it’s very seldom followed up with a feeling of content.

For me, Pokémon wasn’t a show I fell in love with straight away. It was just something for me to watch in-between the shows I actually looked forward to (prominently Digimon and Yu-Gi-Oh!). I do remember what aspects I liked the most — that being the Pokémon, of course. None of the characters were really engaging for me, even as a kid. Except maybe Brock. Brock was cool.

What probably drew me into the show was the idea of Ash and friends journeying around and finding all different kinds of Pokémon. From the beginning, the show had a great sense of adventure and wonderment. As you can imagine, I was a sucker for the “Who’s that Pokémon?” intermissions. I had a fifty-fifty guess rate during my viewing of the series. Aside from that, the other appeal of the show were the cities and gym leaders. Or should I say gym battles, since I can’t remember any gym leaders apart from Brock and Misty? To me, the gym leaders were just so forgettable. I can’t remember a single one, apart from the ones traveling with Ash. I’ve heard that the later parts of the series have better gym leaders and battles, which without seeing much of them, I wholeheartedly agree. But this isn’t about the Pokémon series I didn’t watch, so I’m sticking to just to first five seasons. One last remark on the gym thing — I was enthralled by those gym badges. Every time I saw them my eyes gaped in awe and envy. I desperately wanted them. So much so, that my hatred for Gary didn’t stem from him picking on Ash, as much as it did from my envy against him having gym badges and constantly showing them off, while I was stuck at home without any. Jerk.

I should probably mention that, up until this point, I had never played a Pokémon game or even heard of one before. It wasn’t until “Diamond” and “Pearl” came out that I finally got to play one. I enjoyed it for what it was at the time, but I don’t think I like the idea of dedicating a lot of time to looking for every Pokémon (because I have to have them all, of course) and failing to capture them again and again. Especially, when I just want certain Pokémon that I can never find, or once I do find them they either run away or I accidentally KO them and scream profanities at the top of my lungs and throw the DS against the couch. So yeah, fun times.

Anyway, to me, Pokémon, while something I don’t regret watching (or playing), isn’t as important to me as it is to the rest of the world. Reminiscing about the show does bother me a bit, because I know if I watched those earlier seasons now I wouldn’t be able to tolerate them, much less enjoy them like I did as a kid, and although the later series do improve in a lot of ways, I just don’t see myself picking the show back up ever again. Relistening to the openings is the only enjoyment I get out of the show, really. But hey, if you’re still watching the series or love re-watching the old series, props to you. Keep watching what you like. And keep reading if this is something you like as well.

~ Ace

Got Bored… So, Here’s An Awful Song/Story

Context for this one – I was fighting crippling anxiety at the time. So, it was just something to help cope.

(From previous blog, unedited)

[Untitled 1]
There once was a prince locked up in a castle
He was held there by a wicked wretched evil witch
And every single night he would work up a hassle
For the wretched evil liar who lured him adrift

Locked in a single room with hardly any space
The prince believed it was only a phase
That some daring knight riding upon a steed
Would come to rescue him in this hour of need

And every single night before he fell asleep
He gazed up to the stars ready to plea
Kneeled down in a fashion that pained his knees
With beaming eyes and a hopeful heart
The poor young prince broke into part
“I beg of thee, set me free
Send down a fair young knight
Riding on a swift pony”

As he woke in the mornin’ by the sun beaming through
His ugly looking curtains came into view
Hope gripped his feet and it sprung him from bed
Then a disappointed answer left him with dread

With no sign of rescue or any knight to be had
The helpless young prince started missing his dad
Thoughts flooded and memories flashed
Remembering all the times time went too fast
Then he remembered his mom and remembered his dog
Remembered his sister and remembered his secret frog

Soon the prince found himself spiraling out of control
Sinkin’ deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole
Now the prince began a’ thinking
And the prince began a’ breathing
He had an existential crisis that left him weak feeling
Pretty soon the prince was thinking too much his breathing
And the dawning realization of the end was nearing

Bouncing around the room looking for a way out
This frightened little prince wasn’t going to wait around now
Instead of hoping for some brave and clever knight
The prince began a’ plotting and scheming all night
To calm himself down he would take the time
To sit himself down and rehearse a rhyme
“I am here, here is now
My mind is clear, and one with Tao”

Then once the prince hatched his brilliant scheme
He started hearing movement beneath the seams
And when the prince was finished he readied himself
Preparing for the escape that might just save him from hell

Ready and waiting, the prince became focused
He was staring down the door rarin’ to go for it
And at the very moment the handle began to turn
The eager young prince started into a run

It was then he quickly realized what he had done
Springing a trap on a certain very special someone
It was the knight he prayed for and didn’t look too well
He seemed quite agitated and rarin’ to break through hell
Squirming in the net, the knight lectured the prince
But all he could think of was “Who is this?”

So he cut down the rope that opened the net
And let down the knight who he hoped would forget
About tying him up and how they had met

Then the knight grabbed the prince by his wrist
And rushed him through the window with his armored fist
The window shattered and the pieces scattered
Then the prince’s clothes became all tattered

They landed on a horse positioned outside
The young prince screamed in terror
And the knight said “It will be alright”

As they rode off over the hill, the prince said
“Thank you, Ser Knight, I almost wound up dead”
The brave fairing knight lifted up his helmet
Only to reveal long flowing strands of velvet
And the prince gaped in awe at the ever flowing hair
Entranced by the movement of it passing through air
Combined with the rhythm of the fast-riding mare
He soon became unable to cease his glare

But then something new caught a twinkle in his eye
It wasn’t the hair, but he was still surprised
By the brave fairing knight’s majestic face
Amazed and overwhelmed by the beauty and grace
It was pale and accompanied by a cheery smile
And the prince became flushed as they reached a mile

The prince became all shy and began to stutter
But suddenly his heart was sent all a flutter
At the very single moment, he turned away
The brave and fairing knight leaned into say
“I hope you don’t mind a fair young maiden
Over a brave and daring knight
I’m not much a’ fighter, but I couldn’t sit tight
I had searched near and far to come to aid
And then before I knew it I was given this blade
I set upon a journey arduous in task
Met with people that caused me to ask
“Have any seen or heard of this missing prince?”
And each and everyone said they hadn’t since
As hope began to weaken and despair began to sink in
I had reached my limit before I had even seen him

Then as fortune would have it
I was led to you by a small white rabbit
And I rode full speed determined at my best
Certain that I would be successful in my daring quest
After cutting down the witch and rushing up to your room
Everything down turned into an upside view

Next thing I knew I was trapped in a net
And though I yelled, I wasn’t really that upset
When you cut me down I knew who I’d found
And had a strong feeling we wouldn’t hit the ground
With adrenaline-fuelled veins and you by my side
I was certain that it would be alright
So I rushed through the window, certain in my choice
Next thing I know we’ve landed and there’s a terror in your voice
My instincts called to me saying we should rejoice
After riding for a while you’ve seen who I am
So tell me fair young prince where to shall we scram?

The Woes of Being a Writer Who Hardly Ever Read

(From previous blog, unedited)

I posted this on Tumblr earlier today:

I feel like there is a great pressure being a writer who hasn’t read much because the greats will tell you that being a good writer means also being a good reader. And I wholeheartedly agree with that sentiment, but the ones spouting this advice grew up reading, and in a way, you feel cheated because they have, not just years upon years more experience in reading and writing, but they started at a time when developing those skills becomes engrained into your talents. It’s difficult to compete with that. Knowing that you are always playing catch-up and constantly in a state of inadequacy because you started too late (they’ll say there’s no such thing, which is only half-true in my opinion) and you can’t remember the books as well as you might have had you read them when you were younger and had the freedom of enjoying them to your hearts content. I feel like it’s never enough to just set a goal and read that amount of books per year, that it might be better worth your time to practise writing instead, but then the creeping feeling of inadequacy starts weighing in and suddenly it’s all about reading again because you can’t help shake the feeling that your writing is missing something or you feel like you don’t know enough about writing or just think it isn’t good enough. So, there is this compulsion to both read and write a lot of the time. You want to create, but don’t feel up to the task until you’ve read more. It’s a vicious cycle of starts and stops that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to break. How do you know when you’ve read enough to start writing those ideas you have stored away? How long will it take to master the craft before you’re certain your writing is the way it’s meant to be? Is it possible to write leagues above your reading level? I’m not clueless about writing and I don’t typically find reading to be a challenge (except for remembering how the books were written). All I want to do is make the best out of the ideas I have that make me excited to write, and learn what I can from other authors in the process. Maybe I just dream too big.

The Art of Manipulation (A Short Story)

(From previous blog, unedited)

Here is the other short story I wrote a while back.

The Art of Manipulation
 John Liebert. A college professor adept in all fields, but focuses his teaching skills on philosophy and literature. A seemingly ordinary individual, but deep down he is a cynical, narcissistic sociopath. His mind is addicted to manipulating people and he will always find a way to make someone’s life a living hell.
 He sits outside a Starbucks with his long dark brown hair, messy and untidy, no attempts made to style it. Today, he is wearing an elegantly tailored suit and a long, flowing overcoat, both black in colour, with a dark purple tie.
 He takes a sip from his hot cup of coffee and then gently places it back onto the saucer. He opens his newspaper, ruffling the pages, speed-reading each page, absorbing the most important headlines. He finished the newspaper a while ago, but he feels an obligation to society to appear busy. He stops at a particular headline BODY FOUND! YOUNG WOMAN BURNED TO DEATH! and laughs to himself almost maniacally so. There is no attention drawn towards him, but he stops himself in order to prevent a scene.
 He leans forward glancing at passer-bys, judging their personalities by their appearances and movements. Liebert thinks to himself, “too dependent, too lonely, too masochistic, too frugal, too altruistic, too impulsive, too trusting.”
“All too easy,” he says disappointingly. Liebert sighs deeply.
The waitress is standing beside him holding an empty tray, “Is everything alright, sir?”. Liebert takes a brief pause before replying, “Long day.”
“I’ll bet,” she says annoyingly. “Would you like some more coffee?”
Libert glances at his coffee for a second just to double-check the waitress’s intelligence. He fights the urge to point out that his cup is practically full. “I’m fine, thank you…” he reads her nametag, “Harmony?”
“You’re welcome,” she smiles and wanders off to pester more customers. Before getting a chance to take another sip of coffee a woman sits down in front of him. In only a few seconds Liebert has already memorised her appearance; velvet red hair, dyed, hazel eyes, a pale complexion, smooth-looking skin, beauty mark on left cheek and a red dress to match red lipstick and red stilettos.
“Are you John Liebert by any chance?” she asks excitedly.
“Am I supposed to be famous?” Liebert says nonchalantly.
“Oh, don’t be modest! I’ve seen you do Shakespeare. You killed it as Iago!”
“Did I now?”
“I must have your autograph! Would you be so kind as to…?”
“It would be my pleasure, my dear.”
“Oh! Thank you so much!” she hands him her copy of Othello, “It’s Scarlet by the way.” “Your name? Or your hair?” he asks jocularly. Liebert signs his name hands it back to Scarlet firmly. “Is that all you wanted?”
“Did you have something else in mind?” she said flirtatiously.
“Well, I was planning on going for a stroll after I had finished my coffee,” Libert says matter-of-factly.
“I have two tickets to the opera.”
“What time?”
Startled, Scarlet blurts out her words, “Uh.. umm.. Oh! Uh.. 7:30!”
“And what opera will be showing?”
“The Pirates of the Carib-No. That’s not it. Um.. The Pirates of–”
Liebert interrupts with suavity. “Penzance?”
“Yes! That’s the one! It’ll be fun, won’t it?”
Liebert stands up and takes his coffee up off the table. “We’d better get a move on then.”
“It’s only gone one.”
“Exactly. We only have six and half hours to get to know each other.”
Scarlet opens up her red handbag and checks her reflection while occasionally looking up at Liebert. “Let’s get going then. Shall we?”
“After you.” Liebert keeps his composure despite the plans flooding through his mind right now. His thoughts get the better of him later during the opera showing. Liebert felt like a king sitting front row on the balcony. If there was anything good to say about him it was that he had fine taste in arts and furniture. He could feel the lumbar support of the red velvet seats caressing his back. He then turned to Scarlet and realised he hadn’t completed his objective for the night. Liebert whispers to Scarlet and leaves. Scarlet follows. She pursues him to the rooftop worryingly. As she barges through the entrance to the roof, Scarlet screams “Don’t do it!”
Liebert is standing dangerously close to the edge. He places one foot in the air, gently leaning forward.
“Today will be the day.”
“Is doesn’t have to be!” Scarlet moves closer to Liebert, slowly so that he won’t do anything rash.
“Will I be missed?”
 Liebert turns to Scarlet. His eyes pierce into her. Now frightened, Scarlet panics and rushes to Liebert. Liebert backs away from the ledge, presuming that Scarlet’s speed and movement was just enough for her to trip and fall. Dangling on the edge, Scarlet struggles to pull her body up. The weather picks up some wind . Liebert walks over to the ledge, admiring the starry night sky as he kneels down with one knee. He reaches out to her with his hand. Scarlet grabs his hand in desperation, trusting him with her life. Lifting her arm high enough for them to be face-to-face, Liebert looks Scarlet dead in the eye and says “People are so predictable.”
He let’s go of her hand, watching her plummet to her demise, and then walks away with a blank expression.
 The next day, Liebert sits in the same spot as he did the day before. Holding the newspaper in one hand and sipping his coffee with the other, he reads the headline WOMAN FOUND DEAD! NO EVIDENCE OF HOMICIDE. Liebert smirks before taking another sip from his coffee.
End?

“…a new beast, slouching towards us…the beautiful mutant”

(From previous blog, unedited)

Thought I might speed up the process and post two more stories I wrote a while back.
Here’s the first.

A sci-fi story with quote “…a new beast, slouching towards us…the beautiful mutant”.
The date is Friday, the 31st December. The year; 2027. The location; Downtown New York, Sacred Mind Laboratory. The night had rolled in over Manhattan. The air is still and the sky is tormented with clouds. The city lights dwindled to the smattering of stubborn night owls. A cold breeze rustles the trees. The owls are sent on their way.
One of the owls catches the gaze of one absent-minded scientist, Phil Tucker, age thirty-four, seen wearing a white lab coat with brown slacks staring out into the starry night, seated facing the spine of his caster-wheel chair. Amber Grey, age thirty-one, blonde, wears a similar lab coat over her blue dress shirt, calls him over to join in before the clock strikes midnight, but he ignores her. Cecilia Cross, age twenty-seven, a kind young woman with silver-like hair, crystal blue eyes and a smile that convinces Phil to join them in the celebration.
They all count down “Ten. Nine. Eight…”. Phil turns his head towards the window, refusing to say the words. “Three. Two. One! Happy New Year!” The sounds of popped confetti and party horns are followed by a celebratory crack of the cork by Phoenix Temple, age twenty-five. Phoenix has the appearance of a lanky young man. He has short black hair swept back and has a small amount of stubble on his chin. Cecilia holds the glasses while Phoenix pours the champagne. Everyone clings their glasses together “Cheers!”. Phoenix and Cecilia trade smiles.
Amber observes Cecilia’s hand “Cecilia! When did you two-”
“I’ve been wearing it since Christmas. I’m surprised it took you this long to notice.” she says playfully.
“I should have noticed sooner. Sorry.”
Cecilia giggles “It’s alright, Amber.”
Phil glances around the room in an almost paranoid manner.
Phil is caught off guard by Phoenix’s pat on the back. He turns to Phoenix, scanning him up and down.
Phoenix asks “Is everything alright? You look a bit overworked. Maybe you should get some shut-eye.”
“I’m fine.” Phil argued. Phoenix places his arm around Phil’s neck.
“Don’t overthink it, I’m sure we didn’t overlook anything import-”
Amber interrupts urgently, “Guys! You might want to see this.”
They rush to Amber’s computer only to find on screen-
“It’s out!? How did it get out!?” Phoenix exclaims frantically.
“I told you! I told you this would happen!” Phil complains.
Amber looks closely in on the camera “Is that Cecilia? When did she-”
They turn and examine the room, then quickly return their gaze to the monitor.
“Cecilia!” Phoenix yells anxiously.
“She can’t hear you.” Phil says sulkily.
Phoenix rushes out the door, through the corridor and down the flights of stairs until he hears a scream of agony from Cecilia. “I’m coming, Cecilia!”. He makes his way to the room where Cecilia was last spotted “Not here.” He then passes through the corridor until he discovers a trail of blood leading into the room labelled ’17B’. His eyes widen as he hesitantly pulls the slide door open. Nothing could prepare him for the horror inside.
One glimpse. That’s all it took. His skin turned pale and his appetite rendered him nauseous. He drops to his knees, facing the ground, weeping. He can’t bring himself to look, but he can’t look away either. His fiancée, Cecilia Cross, soon to be Cecilia Temple, lies with but a torso left to recognise. Her intestines have been half-chewed and her legs have been devoured whole. What remains of Cecilia Cross is but a disemboweled corpse with a pretty face. Before Phoenix gets a chance to compose himself his phone starts to ring “Phoenix! You daft maniac, get up here before it… before it… Amber, what are you doing with that-Ahhhh!”
He hangs up the phone. “I’m sorry.” he cries softly.
The thought of being eaten alive by that beast is what gives him the strength to stand up and lock the door. He does everything in his power to ignore Cecilia. He rummages through the desk drawers in search of something to defend himself. His mind drifts “Why should my fate be any different than theirs? After all, this was my idea. This was my project. This was my fault.” With eyes closed he hits his head off the wall, clenching his fist, bearing feelings of both grief and guilt. He checks the last drawer, Phil’s. Inside the drawer is a handgun. He takes the gun from Phil’s desk and checks the magazine. “It’s loaded. What was Phil thinking?” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” He walks over to Cecilia (or what’s left of her). “Nothing matters anymore.” He takes a seat with his back against the wall, right next to Cecilia. The lights go out. “It’s even smart enough to cut the power, huh? I guess in the end, we reap what we sow. ‘A new beast, slouching towards us… the beautiful mutant.’ That’s what Amber called it. Remember how we laughed, Cecilia?” A roaring snarl is echoed through the corridor. “It’s on its way, Cecilia. Death will soon come knocking on my door, and then we will be reunited.” There is a clamorous clonk at the door. It makes a noticeable impact. Phoenix looks to Cecilia “You always wore that cross, even when I teased you about your name. Your faith is so much stronger than mine, but… for you I’m willing to give it a try.” The violent thumps at the door are beginning to take shape. “Forgive me father…” (thump-thump) He raises the handgun at the door. “… for I have sinned…” (thump-thump) He steadies his aim, lining up his shot. “… for I have sinned…” The door is knocked down. It is too dark to see the beast, but that’s not what the shot is for. “… a lot.”
An ear-piercing bang echoes through the laboratory.
End

“… all the time in the world”

(From previous blog, unedited)

Continuing with the theme of my older works here is another piece from a couple years back I did with a more exaggerated touch.

Write a light-hearted and entertaining article, intended for publication in a magazine aimed at young people, in response to the phrase “…all the time in the world”.

It is truly a remarkable phenomenon watching the youth waste away their lives worrying about their status on social media (i.e. Twitter, Facebook, etc). You are creating a vortex of unnecessary anxiety that once you get sucked into there is no escape. I have the seen the future my dear readers, and it is a zombie apocalypse. Now, wait- just give me a moment to explain. Don’t click off the browser yet, because I have no doubt that you’re reading this online – and to the readers at home actually holding a newspaper – get with the times. But seriously, the zombie apocalypse is our future, and to clarify I don’t mean the kind you see in movies or video games or that dreadful show on AMC “The Walking Dead”. Basically, anything that’s not still-moving rotting flesh.
     So, what do I mean when I say ‘zombie apocalypse’!? I mean my generation and future generations to come. A day has not gone by in the last five or so years where I haven’t seen at least one person from my generation (or younger) walk while staring down at their phone like a mindless drone. They squander the gift of life, procrastinating, delaying the inevitable. They indeed, have “all the time in the world”, but do not know how to use it.
     Bombarded with entertainment system after entertainment system, new technological feats and discoveries, internet trends and various other types of peer pressure, and addictions – it’s no wonder they can’t escape their mundane routine: wake up, check phone, get dressed, check phone, eat breakfast, turn on TV/computer, check phone, leave house, check phone while walking/driving, etc…
     It’s a frenzy of pointless exercises that only act as burdens. Sure, phones were made to communicate long distances, but they’ve evolved past that. Now the new smartphones are capable of doing just about anything – from apps to music to games to ordering online to yes, even telling time. I can’t wrap my head around why this is the “norm”. Is it normal to needlessly check your phone every two seconds for the time or a text you’ve no doubt given ‘The Good, The Bad & The Ugly’ theme as a ringtone?
     Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m the problem and everyone else is experiencing some amazing new drug that gives them precognitive abilities, but only when they look at their phone. I can’t get the feeling that this is just the beginning. That the worst has yet to come. Just because you have “all the time in the world” doesn’t mean you should waste it writing articles about having all the time in the world…
     (Ahem). Look, what I’m trying to get across is that maybe take a break. Try something new. It doesn’t have to be something insane like skydiving – although if you do go skydiving be sure to use your Go-Pro and record yourself doing flips and spins – it just needs to be a different experience, because ultimately that’s what life is all about. Experiences. If you could just put down the phone (and the spare one in your pocket), turn off the TV and computer and just go for a walk. Think your legs are still capable of performing such an enormous undertaking as to move your lifeless body out into the yellow rays of light, known in some circles as “sunlight”? Splendid.
     Fret not, you may revisit your devices when you have returned from no less than a thirty (yes, I said thirty) minute walk. Achieve that and I’ll consider getting you that new iPhone coming out in November. After all, you have all the time in the world.
     Anyway, back to what I was saying earlier. We’re doomed.