Things I Have Learned (While Abroad)

I was going to make a list, you know, of "things I have learned".  I would have been not unlike a fifth-grader at the end of a school year standing in the front of the classroom, with droplets of sweat clinging to the back of her neck while staring at piece of paper veined with thin blue lines and covered in smudges.  Her classmates would be squirming in their seats anxious to tear down the hallways and into the sunshine that beckons through the dirt-streaked windows.

But this is not fifth grade, is it?

The truth is I can't articulate exactly what it is I've learned in my time here.  I've done all those stereotypical things that people "do" when they are abroad: strengthened my language skills, made new friends, pushed myself beyond my comfort zone, etc, etc.  But there has been more to my experience than these things.  There were definitely times when I was so overwhelmed I felt I couldn't adjust anymore, and I didn't feel like I needed to.  I observed that some of my fellow exchange students got stuck in ruts: the going to clubs four times a week rut; the buying cheap shit rut; the I-hate-Taiwan-rut. (full disclosure: I was stuck in all of those ruts at one point or another this year.  Mom--I never went out four nights a week.)  It was extremely painful to leave those ruts, but when I did, I always learned more about myself and the world became a richer place.  And I will always be grateful for finding the courage to leave former, less than beautiful versions of myself behind.  It meant saying goodbye to ways of thinking, people, and habits that were no longer in my best interest.  But the people I have met, the new opinions I have adopted and the new things I am doing are fulfilling beyond my wildest expectations.  This year, while it had its ups and downs, was a gift.

 I am grateful for who I have become and the people who have accompanied me thus far.  If you're reading this blog, then that means you.  Thank you for coming along with me on this journey.  I look forward to the many places we'll go together.

Sincerely,
Marjorie

P. S.  I can change!  I can take a picture with Hello Kitty paraphernalia and not puke.

L is for Love Yourself A Little

Hi!  Marjorie from Upwards Over the Mountain here, back from a much needed break.

I know I kind of just vanished for a minute there without explanation.  Trust me, I had a lot of things going on, not the least of which was that I was very sick.  When your body gives out the way mine did, that's a sign you need to scale back from life and re-evaluate where you're spending your energy.  I'm in the home stretch of my time abroad.  I have eight weeks before I get on a plane and leave this lush island behind.  Sometimes when we get close to the end of a journey we can doubt ourselves.  This past week I was suddenly unsure about so many things.  Do I really want to be a "big time" blogger with a horde of followers?  How is being a writer going to factor into a career?  What classes do I want to take next semester?  What path should I take after I graduate?

I don't have a concrete answer to any of these questions.  I've scratched my carefully thought through battle plans for the next few weeks.  I'm just going to focus on doing what I love for the rest of the time here.  And I love blogging.

No matter what phase of life you are in, I encourage you to love yourself a little.  You might be surprised at the results.



Here's an acapella cover of one of my favorite songs from one of my favorite bands, Counting Crows.

Happy Thursday!

Writer-Blogger Thursdays: Cliche or Plot Twist?

I got this from Deirdra:



Thank you so much!


Secondly, I have something to ask you guys.

My work in progress is about a young man who becomes the sole caretaker of his infant niece.  He faces a lot of obstacles, not the least of which is keeping his sister's unsavory associates (she's dating a drug dealer) off of his doorstep.

Recently I've been focusing a lot more on the sister's character development, and I've come up with a good reason for the sister and niece to suddenly disappear.

Is a kidnapping/disappearance of the baby girl a good plot twist, or just a cliche?

What are your thoughts?

DISCLAIMER: No baby girls, real or imagined, will be harmed in the writing of this novel.

A Word About Japan

A few of you have been asking me if I've heard about the earthquake in Japan.  (Also, thanks to those of you who've asked if I'm okay.)  I'm on this side of the world, and I'm twelve hours ahead of most of you who read this, so, yes, I have.  I've steered clear of the news this weekend because I knew it was bad, and I didn't want to focus on how bad it was.  I was in New York on 9/11, and people talking about how unthinkable it was that someone would fly planes into buildings didn't help any: nor did repeated news clips of the Towers buckling underneath plumes of smoke.  You know what helped?  People who sent their thoughts and prayers our way and found ways to actually help.  For a few brief moments, the city came together in a spirit of mutual solidarity that transcended any religious sect or political agenda.  Then the media stuck its big nose in it and we got back to our paranoid bickering.

Japan's got it way worse right now.  So instead of watching the news on the Internet and getting sucked into the morbid voyeurism, donate.  And send your thoughts and prayers.  I don't care if you're an agnostic, atheist (I won't tell if you won't), Buddhist, Muslim, Jew, Christian, or Sikh.  This is not about religion; this is about the people of Japan.  They need our help.  As much as you can spare.  Sending a little unselfish love in their direction, no matter what color, class, or creed you are is the least we can do as human beings living together in a world that can go bananas at a moment's notice.

Which brings me to another reason I'm not watching the news: the media is generally not good at representing the massive amounts of love that emerges when a disaster strikes.  For every news story about the mother who can't find her children, there are many, many more about someone who sacrificed his life for someone he/she didn't know, or someone who against all odds survived beneath the rubble while volunteers dug him/her out.  There are volunteers on the ground right now, and more on their way.  Some of their stories of courage and selflessness will pop up here and there; others won't.  But it's important to remember that while the damage seems colossal--and it is--we can either focus on how much has been lost, or we can pitch in with the ones who are actually fixing this mess.

Let's stop talking about the problem and be a part of the solution.  For Japan's sake, and for ourselves.

Writer-Blogger Thursdays

Okay, so first things first:

As I've already thanked and linked my awarders, I have to say seven things about myself and award other bloggers.  So, without further ado:

1. I'm an only child.  Either because of or as a result of this, I learned to make friends with adults than with people my own age.  It's something I'm still learning how to do.  If you consider yourself a good friend of mine, it's very likely you have at least five years on me.

2. I still like Avril Lavigne.

3. I'm messy, in both a figurative and literal sense.

4.  I am the queen of one-woman dance parties.

5. I have an obsessive habit of pacing that began when I was about eleven.  I try to channel it in a healthy way by walking on the track.  Somehow circles soothe me.

6. I do not know how to drive.  (I'm from a large city where cars are a waste of time and money.  Not my fault.)

7. I'm on a lifelong quest to find the perfect slice of pizza.  If you know any pizza places that are any good where you are, let me know.

Ten Bloggers who are Stylish:
Missing Link in Writing
The Serial Killer Files
Surrounded by Books
Cacy Duncan
An Alleged Author
iggi and gabbi
Mia Hayson
Nothing Cannot Happen Today
The Blogger Formerly Known As
My First Book


Secondly:  Writing Stuff.
So I mentioned before I'm working on a longer piece of fiction.  Last weekend I had a bit of a breakthrough.  I wrote an opening that felt different that anything I've written before.  It felt alive.  Charged.  I gave it to my mom to read, and instead of her usual, "I love to see you writing!" reaction (which she always does, no matter how awful or angst-filled), she wrote back she had to take a nap after she read it and that I had her attention from the start.  My mom has a way of being objective with both criticism and praise, and I trust her judgement when I ask her advice.  I also knew in my gut that I was onto something.  Something good.

What changed?

Stakes.  I raised them.

A lot.

Like, we're talking T-Bone.

I think my initial premise was interesting, but I was missing motivation in too many places.  I kept running into a wall--why would my protagonist choose to investigate the roots of his deceased father?  Closure?  I guess...but closure's really subjective.

I'm writing a piece about a dysfunctional family, and I placed the dead father in the center of it, which didn't really work. I then wrote a character sketch of the sister in relation to the father, which I liked better.

And then it hit me.

Put the protagonist in the center.

DUH.

After that, the stakes kind of raised themselves.

And now ENTIRE direction of my novel has changed. Roughly 6,000 words are going to be cut; I'm starting over.

But it wasn't a waste of time.  If I hadn't written those 6,000 words, I probably never would have hit this sudden point of clarity.

I've been stewing over the love interest this week, and a JUICY DELICIOUS plot point has dropped into my lap.  I can't wait to spend this weekend reconfiguring this novel and watching these characters, who are each at the end of their respective ropes, make one last mad dash for sanity, normalcy, and--if they dare hope--love.

Happy Weekend and Happy Writing!

New Sheriff In Town

So, winter finally seems to be over, new exchange students have arrived, and a new semester is just beginning.  Apologies for not posting for a while: had some loose ends (finals, visa) that needed tying up.  But!  I have decided, in the spirit of spring and renewal-ness, that I'm going to be refocusing this blog some.  When I first started blogging six months ago, I was like "eh, this isn't really my thing."  Then it was "ooh!  Lots of cool shiny blogs out there about subjects I'm interested in"!  And now, after some soul-searching, I feel ready to join the ranks of the blogosphere.  I've learned about blogging, given myself a new interface, have new followers, and have content that I can condense into something that is readable.  In other words: I AM GOING TO BLOG MY LITTLE HEART OUT LIKE I MEAN IT LOOK OUT HERE I COME.

Yes?  Yes.

Updates are now scheduled on Tuesdays and Thursdays, unless an asteroid hits earth or I'm too tired otherwise noted.

Tuesday will be something about my life here in Taiwan.

Thursday will be something writing related.

ARE YOU READY FOR EPICNESS?  (The answer to that is yes.  Of course you are.)

See you all Tuesday!
Happy Spring!

We all need romance sometimes.

Here is a portion of the climax scene of my work in progress, in the spirit of Valentine's Day.  Whether you're single, married, divorced, dating, engaged, or recently broken up, I wish you romance and love.

I got down on my knees.  A word of advice to you guys who are proposing: when you kneel, do it slowly.  I dropped all my weight to the floor at once, and I almost busted my kneecaps.

            “You would make me the happiest man on earth if you’ll marry me,” I said.  “But if not, I will spend the rest of my life seeing to it that you’re happy.  If you need me tomorrow, next week, a year from now, ten years from now, I will be there for you.  You wanna marry someone else?  I’ll be first in line to shake that lucky bastard’s hand, right after I cut my heart out with a spoon.  Because your happiness means more to me than anything else.”

            Connie’s eyes misted over.  More people were congregating in the lobby.  They formed a half circle around us. 

            “I don’t have that much to offer you,” I went on.  “I’ve got an incredible little girl who needs a mom, and I can paint so-so. But I will spend every second of the rest of my life thinking about you and wondering if you’re okay, whether you’re in my life or not.  I’ve spent the last twenty-seven years feeling sorry for myself, and I’m not going to waste one more moment thinking about my miserable life.  My life is yours now.  You can take it or leave it, but it will always be yours.”  I took a deep breath.  “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

            A few tears dripped down Connie’s nose.  She squeezed my hand.

            “For God’s sake, say yes!” an older woman cried.  I held my breath.  Everyone else seemed to be, too.

What would you say to this proposal?

Holy Cow--New People!

I linked my blog over at T.H. Mafi's Grab a Pen a day or so ago...and now there are some new folks!  Hi, guys!

A few things about me:

• I'm Marjorie.  I'm 21.  Undergraduate student.  No siblings.
• Recently come out as a writer.  Am currently working on two writing projects: revising a short story and *just* beginning a novel...we'll see how that goes.
• Born and raised in a large U. S. city; currently studying abroad in Taipei, Taiwan, Republic of China.  Been here since August.
• I started this blog reluctantly; I think I'm going to take it more seriously now that more people are, um, reading it.  Yeah...
• Have been studying Chinese since I was fourteen.
• Foodie and bookie: I will read anything good and eat anything delicious.  Anything.
• There's always some Chinese homework I should be doing...
• I also speak the following languages with varying levels of competence: French, Spanish, International English, International Chinese (trust me, those last two are languages in their own right)

Please introduce yourselves in the comments below.  Don't be shy: I'd love to get to know you!

Welcome to Upwards Over the Mountain!

Back from the Dark Side of...Not Blogging

Hey!

Sorry for not writing in so long.  Between Thanksgiving, the end of classes, final projects, saying goodbye (many times) to the semester CIEE students, starting a new semester, going out, running errands, and a sprinkling of medical issues have made for a very interesting--and busy--two and a half weeks.  My friends are traveling in Southeast Asia, and I have a new schedule which allows me to attend classes in the afternoon, providing me the much-needed time and space to slow down and really take things in.

I have been using the free time for reflecting and feeling.  For those of you who have had a conversation with me that has lasted longer than thirty seconds, you may have noticed I'm a bit...cerebral.  Emotions and I haven't always been on the best of terms.  I would even go so far as to say I don't like them.  At all.  They are messy and have a will of their own.  Crying?  What the hell?  I don't have time for something as banal as crying.  Don't my feelings know I am studying A Very Hard Language to become a Person who is Going Places and Making Her Way in the World?

Apparently not.

About two weeks ago I stormed into Christie's office (the director of CIEE--Taipei division) with a list of demands.  I needed help with housing.  Four people in one tiny living space was getting too much to handle, the bathrooms had long since been out of hand, and now there were rats.  Not to mention there was some kind of bureaucratic miscommunication with my winter tuition bill, and I had paid the wrong person.    Add Mandarin Chinese to this mixture.  Get a very pissed off twenty-one year old.

I had told Christie about my history of depression, but, as with most things about me that are close to the vest, I dressed it up with an anecdote and presented it with an ironic twist.  I have become quite good at this kind of disingenuous charm.  I didn't want people to think I was this vessel of melancholy petulance who spent her nights crying because she felt unloved.

Which, of course, I was.  For a long time.

The conversation quickly veered away from what I thought was going to be a "business" meeting to some of the more tender feelings that lay underneath my frustration and brusqueness (i. e. homesickness).   The next thing I knew, I was blubbering like a little girl.  In the CIEE office, of all places.

That conversation helped me pin down a specific fear: I am afraid of asking for help because I dread appearing to be incompetent to others.  She encouraged me to try to expose the emotions I was feeling to the light, because repressed feelings fester "like worms digging into the dirt", she explained.  I know this to be true from years of therapy and consulting with mental health professionals, but there is a difference between knowing something intellectually and actually being prepared to deal with it.

In my case especially, this difference is about a hemisphere wide.

Christie advised me to notice where an emotion is in my body when I feel it.  I've been taking her advice, which has forced me to slow down and pay attention to myself.  The book she loaned me--essentially a manual for feeling things--takes these guidelines further.  Does the feeling have a texture inside of you?  A color?  A shape?  One thing I have noticed is that I'm shaking a lot less, because I'm no longer forcing my feelings into a deep dark corner in my chest.  I've just been letting what rises rise, without judging anything.

Allowing my emotions to come up naturally has also opened up a Pandora's box of memories that I had stuffed away into an attic of I'm Not Going to Deal With This Ever.  But, as I've learned, pain does not kill you.  It waxes and wanes, and it's an indicator of a malady that needs attention, as with physical pain.  Good memories of myself have surfaced as well.  Memories when the world was a good place, and I was secure and happy.  One particular memory that I enjoyed was when I was about four and I was grocery shopping with my mother.  I had a pair of what I called "fireman" boots, which were black and yellow rubber boots that exactly matched the jackets of the firemen in our neighborhood.  I often saw the firemen grocery shopping, and I always made it a point to tell them that I had boots just like theirs.  And, wasn't it cool that I was grocery shopping just like them?  The fact that my mother was paying for all the food and pushing me in the grocery cart was but an insignificant detail.  I was food shopping.

And I always got M&Ms at the checkout counter.  Life was sweet (no pun intended).

This is why I've been a little out of touch.  Feeling things has been inconvenient and strange, but necessary.  My friends have also been dragging me on shopping trips and clubbing marathons to keep me from being mired in my own reveries and reflections.  And a tiny little hiccup called Advanced Chinese classes has been beckoning my attention.

So.  If you are reading this, thanks for your patience and understanding.  I told you all this wouldn't be a blog of Look At Me Eat A Piece of Exotic Food and Attempt to Speak a Foreign Language.  I'm not saying this to judge all the other travel blogs, guides, and memoirs that have this content.  I just believe in truth in advertising.


Know that I am happy and safe.  To my family back home, much love.  To my new friends in Taiwan, I look forward to spending more time together in our new home.  To my classmates who have already returned home or are returning soon, I wish you a safe trip and a restful vacation with your families.  Keep in touch.

Peace and Joy.  And a very Merry Christmas and a glorious New Year to you all.
Marjorie

Letter to My Mother

PREFACE: I wrote this letter to my mom while procrastinating working on my final project.  My friend, who, like me, is a smart, beautiful capable person fed up with male mediocrity, insisted I share this letter to the whole world.  I told her that I'd publish it on my blog later but she was having none of it.  She told me to post it now.  So, what the heck?  No time like the present.  Life is too short.


Elizabeth Edwards died two days ago.  And I feel horrible that such an accomplished woman died overshadowed by scandal.


She believed in her husband, championed his cause, raised his children.  And how did her husband pay her back?  He had an a tawdry affair, fathered a child, and denied it.  While his wife had cancer.

Imagine if the roles were switched.  What would people say about Elizabeth if she had an affair and ran for president while her husband had cancer?

Will she be remembered for her intelligence, her career, her eloquence, or her passion for her causes?  Nope.  She will be remembered as the wife of a failed presidential candidate.  As the caricature "Saint Elizabeth".  As a monster who screeched at her aides and at her unfaithful husband.

Her life, one full of potential, has been reduced to a Page Six blurb.  All because of her stupid husband.

I'm realizing how unbelievably unfair our society is.  A few weeks ago I went shopping with Marta.  She needed to buy a camera and I provided company and interpretation services.  We were in a department store looking at creams and makeup and diamond rings.  The entire floor was devoted to women's beauty products, and they were quite expensive.  Most floors in department stores are filled with products for women.  And yet, women make 77 cents for every dollar men make in the U. S.  How is that?

If I have to spend the rest of my life alone, I'm prepared to do it.  Days like today I don't know why I'm working so hard to acquire a skill set and understand myself, but I know that it will be worth it one day.  If I have to work three times as hard as a man to get any recognition, then so be it.  If no man meets my standards right now because I'm too busy busting my a** to make something of myself, then so be it.  Let them call me a b***.  Let them call me heartless.  But I will not die under the burden of someone else's failures.

Culture Shocked. Be right back.

Hey everyone,

If I haven't posted in a while or not gotten back to your emails, it's because my brain has been completely fried--well done--from culture shock.  I don't want to fill this blog with negativity and long rants, because it's not Taiwan's fault that I'm going through this very normal phase of adjusting to a very different culture.  I have a drawerful of postcards and letters that I've promised to send.  I will send them.  I haven't forgotten you.  If you read this blog, if you talk to me online, if you pray for me, thank you.  My brain will one day unstick itself and become more functional.  There really is nothing I can do but wait for my Humpty-Dumpty brain to put itself back together again.

In the meantime, I turn this blog over to you, dear readers.  YOU will be the ones determining the subject of the next post.  You have three anecdotes to choose from:

1. A party that I recently attended that was broken up by the cops.
2. An incident involving an oversized sanitary napkin
3. Political maneuvering in a Taiwanese dorm.

Simply comment at the bottom with the following: 1, 2, or 3.  Whichever you think will be funniest or most interesting or what you'd like to read the most.  Whichever topic gets the most votes I'll write about.  I know there are some of you out there that are okay with whatever I write about, but please pick a topic.  My brain is culture shocked.  Be right back.

See you all next week,
Marjorie

A lot has happened in three weeks.

Hey, everyone!  Sorry it's been so long since my last post.  Suffice it to say that I've been spending the last few weeks trying to establish a routine in the midst of adjusting to Taiwan.  That's my fancy way of saying that getting up for class at eight in the morning has been a challenge, and I've only been going to bed at a more or less regular time since Sunday.

I've also been emotionally processing a lot of things.  Since I last blogged, I've heard news of two natural deaths and a suicide from back home.  I would like to extend my condolences to the Everdells, the Laguerres, and the Millers.  Nora Miller, a current junior at my home university, burned herself alive near the track field two weeks ago.  I met her father, who works for my university, when my room was accidentally cleaned out last semester.  He was very kind and helpful.  I cannot imagine the amount of pain Nora must have been in to cause her to do such a thing, nor can I understand the anguish her family is experiencing.  I pray that Nora has finally found peace, and that her family can one day conclude that their daughter's death was not in vain.

I turned 21 last week, a milestone to be sure, but what kind of milestone remains to be seen.  I celebrated the occasion by riding cable cars up the mountains near my current university (see my Facebook photos), drinking tea, eating pizza, and dancing with other CIEE students at a rock and roll club.  I am deeply enjoying branching out and meeting new people.  Classes are not too hard, which allows me a lot of free time to take walks, try new food, and gaze at the glittering Taipei skyline that stretches below my university.  Every day I take another step outside of my comfort zone, and every day my past life in America seems farther and farther away from me.  Some of my classmates from CIEE speak longingly of their lives back home.  I can tell they ache for the familiar, to be surrounded by things and people they recognize.  I try to listen, but I can't say I understand.  I have never quite been able to find my own niche in America, so the chance for a clean break is something that feels long overdue.

The novelty of being in a different country is slowly beginning to wear off, but I've strategically postponed some adventures in order not to lose my sense of wonder.  Most of the CIEE students are leaving in December.  I'm not, so I don't share their sense of urgency to go clubbing three times a week or try a new restaurant across town every other night. I've deliberately not visited Taipei 101 or gone to the Shida night market.  I want to avoid the exhausted indifference of a jaded expat.  This week I've been feeling a little run down (I'm actually doing my homework during the week) and during class I've made myself take note of the majestic scenery outside my window.  Gauzy clouds, delicate as lace curtains, drape themselves over lush green mountains.  As the morning progresses, the sky shifts its color from a pastel grey to a blushing azure.  Taipei 101 rises alone above the winding freeways while cars whizz by with the air of industrious bees.  This is my daily view of the world.  I dare not take it for granted.

Some of my new expat comrades have felt the screeching halt of the honeymoon period.  I haven't yet; I'm letting the notion that Taipei is my new home creep up slowly on me.  Occasionally I miss certain things from home (weekend brunch foods, humidity below 85%, books in English), but Facebook, Skype, GChat and AIM keep me up to date on all of you, so I am not very homesick.  What's more, every night I share my bed with Sam, by pink stuffed rabbit from childhood, and my copy of the Bible discreetly titled "The Scriptures".  When you're away from home, it's interesting to find what things provide comfort.  I hope that you are all happy to know that Sam and the Scriptures (stupid band name?) do an excellent job.

Sometimes it's okay to do things against your better judgement.

I'll be honest: I don't like the idea of posting a travel blog.  I had a long conversation with a classmate from my study abroad program against the idea of travel blogging and I'm no more in favor of it than I was last night.  To a large extent, I feel it is an unoriginal  way for me to hurriedly cram anecdotes into a space on the interwebs when I can just as easily regale my friends and family with tales of my adventures upon my return.  I like to think of myself as a pretty good storyteller, but even so, my pictures speak volumes for me.  Isn't that what Facebook is for?

However.

I was reading my current favorite blog, called "The Rejectionist".  The author is an editorial assistant at a famous New York publishing house.  Her posts are not only wacky and hilarious and insightful, they occasionally feature posts from other writers.  And these guest posts, as she called them, were good.  Really good.  And finally, I thought to myself: it doesn't matter how  many times I've tried and failed to start a blog; it doesn't matter if I don't think I'm as good of a writer as these bloggers who seem to ooze talent and new ideas from every pore of their being.  I'm going to write.  About Taiwan, about my thoughts, about books, about the world as I see it.  As much as I can.  Ideally, I would like to use this space for disciplined creativity--I keep telling people I want to write a full-length novel, but that's going to be pretty hard to do if I let my writing skills atrophy.  You don't run a marathon without training--writing's not much different.

So, don't expect too many pictures or anecdotes.  Yes, I'm in Taiwan and it's amazing, but right now I'm a bit more concerned with why I'm here, not just that I'm here.  I'm about to sign off now, so I will share a short update before going to sleep.

Today my classmates and I took a Chinese placement test, had lunch in a Yunan-style restaurant, went to the National Palace museum and the Shulin night market.  All of these things were fine except for the fact that it rained.  All.  Day.  Long.  I left the restaurant to get my umbrella back in my dorm and accidentally walked in the wrong direction, which left me soaked so I changed my clothes when I finally reached my room.  It was certainly a good day to go to a museum, which was filled with bronze and stone carvings from the respective Bronze and Neolithic Ages, but my clothes never fully dried.  Supposedly there's a typhoon coming in a couple of days, which intrigues me.  I have never witnessed any kind of extreme weather, so I'm fascinated by the idea of trees flailing helplessly in the wind while heavy rain all but flies horizontally.  Tomorrow, my group is off to the center of Taiwan for a two-day cultural immersion trip of some kind.  I wish I could provide more details, but so far my head is more or less spinning from following around my group as we move from place to place.  I'm looking forward to the beginning of classes when things will settle into more of a routine.  But, yes, Taiwan is awesome and I'm glad I'm here.

Good night,
Marjorie