Happy New Year!

A quiet evening at home with a cup of tea is how I am spending this NYE. I will soon be in bed, no "Rockin' New Year's Eve" for this gal. Instead, I am choosing to spend a little quality time with my thoughts and be well rested for my patients tomorrow.

As much as I try to avoid becoming too nostalgic at this time of year, I can't help but think back on what a tumultuous year it has been. It has been a year of tremendous challenges, life changes, more ups and downs that the world's biggest rollercoaster, and yet, also a time of incredible growth. I am proud to say that as despite everything, or because of it, I feel I have become more self-aware, intuitive and open to learning about myself and those around me. I am looking forward to a 2009 that builds on the foundations I have begun to lay for myself and the life I am building for myself takes shape. Click here to read more...

Feeling Inspired tonight

Tonight I had the great pleasure of sharing my ideas about Health Care Reform with diverse group of individuals at a Planned Parenthood forum. It was an unprecedented opportunity to speak up about the health care issues that matter and help shape the Obama administration’s health care policies. As you may know, President-elect Obama’s nominee for Secretary of Health and Human Services, Tom Daschle, has asked Planned Parenthood and its supporters to participate in a nationwide discussion on the future of health care reform.

And so, this afternoon, over coffee and cookies, I was in a board room at the Lagoon Planned Parenthood clinic where a group of supporters and I had the opportunity to meet with State Senator John Marty, Chair of the Health, Housing, and Family Security Committee, Speaker of the Minnesota House Margaret Anderson-Kelliher, and Representitive Frank Hornstein. The Obama administration has called out to the citizens of this nation for stories and experiences with the health care system and most importantly, what we think health care reform should look like. Boy did we answer that call this afternoon! I thoroughly enjoyed the lively discussion that ensued and making the acquaintance of other dynamic individuals with a passion for women's health care isues. It gives me hope that the President-Elect of this great, albeit very messed-up, nation, has asked the people for their input. Now that's democracy at its core. This meeting was a small part of what truly is a grass roots effort on a very large scale, put forth by our "Organizer in Chief" as some have called Obama. With the people behind him in a manner that has not been seen in a long time, and more pro-choice and pro-family planning people elected to Congress than ever before, 2009 is bursting with potential for Obama and I, for one, can't wait to see what's going to happen. Click here to read more...

Away for Holidays

I will be out of town and away from any sort of reliable internet access until Monday December 29th. Will continue writing and post when I return. Happy Holidays and safe travels to all! Click here to read more...

Becoming Unshamed

While being able to say "I was raped" is a gigantic feat and one to be recognized and even celebrated, perhaps even more important is that I have begun to unravel the tangle of damage that was done to my psyche as a result of it. Was the rape the cause of my emotional damage, or was it a symptom of a deeper problem? It is fascinating and heartbreaking how the tiny seed of that one night has become a powerful vine that has wrapped its way around my heart and spirit almost entirely.

An unwanted precedent was set when I was raped. From that moment forward, I believed (mostly unconsciously) that my body was something to be used, both by myself and others. Did I believe this before the rape, and thus "allowed" Ed to violate me? Possibly. I've never been entirely comfortable in my own skin, never quite knew what to do with my physical self.

I've had much too much sex that I did not want to have (and that wasn't even that good) that I've dug myself into a very deep hole of shame. Somewhere along the way I unlearned how to relate to men in a healthy, mutually respectful way, in a manner where sex and "sexual tension" were not part of the equation. Every relationship I've ever had somehow or another eventually came to revolve around sex. Whether it was the fiery love affair that I tried to turn into an actual relationship, the tepid romance that I hung onto too long because the sex was pretty decent, or the incident in the Caribbean involving a guy I know only as "Island Boy", somehow sex was the main ingredient every time. Even relationships I have with men that are not lovers- coworkers, friends, bosses- often carry an inappropriate air of sexuality.

This all changed with one amazing guy that I met in July 2006. For the first time I knew in my heart that this man wanted me for me, and that whether or not we had sex when we were together did not dictate if we had a good time or not. We loved each other's minds, the cerebral discourse we had, our goofiness, the fact that we understood each other's dreams, hopes, fears and could share our hearts with each other-- we were lovers on a level deeper than anywhere I'd ever been before. For reasons outside the scope of this post, we broke up last February, but have been able to keep in touch. He said to me not too long ago when we met up for coffee that "the sex was fantastic, but it was secondary."

This man taught me a tremendous lesson for which I am grateful. He taught me that I have value as a human being above and beyond sex and sexuality. I am a good person worthy of love because of who I am, not because I am willing to go to bed. Recognizing this is only one step in the long process of becoming unshamed, and the challenge as I go forth in my journey searching for a partner will be to keep this lesson in the forefront of my mind. When I feel insecure or unsure of myself, my first instinct is to use my sexuality. It will be difficult to learn new tools to use when relating to men, but I want to do it differently. Practice makes perfect? Click here to read more...

Emotional Catharsis

I had no idea how much the burden I had been carrying around for the past 8 1/2 years had been weighing me down. Once I began writing Monday's post, I found myself unable to pull myself away from the keyboard, as if an emotional floodgate had been opened and would not be stopped until it had run its course. I went to bed feeling physically lighter. I slept better than I have in months. When I awoke the next morning, I had a spring in my step and an energy that I haven't felt in a long time. I think I am finally beginning to feel unshamed. Click here to read more...

The Reality of Rape, Eight Years Later

I have been raped. I say this not as I might have before I became the person I am today; not as a declaration, firing up my fighting spirit; not as a confession of my feelings of guilt, wishing I could make it all go away but trying in vain to make the feminist in me "own it"; not as an announcement seeking attention and inviting drama. No, at this point, it is simply a statement of fact of events that transpired when I was a sophomore in college. Naming an evil, calling it what it is, is, I've discovered, a part of the healing process.

It wasn't until recently that I began to call what happened to me rape. I used to refer to that night as a "drunken one night stand" and blew it off. Ed was an upperclass physics tutor that I'd had a crush on. I was drinking in my dorm room with friends after finals were over when I ran into him in the hallway, I proceeded to flirt heavily, he invited me back to his dorm room where we continued drinking and he wooed me with his guitar playing, we started kissing and before I even knew what was happening, he was on top of me and his penis was inside of me. The worst part of all of this is that before this night, I'd never had intercourse before. Although a lot of that night is an alcohol-induced blur, I distinctly remember thinking to myself in a panicked moment of lucidity, "Holy crap, what am I doing? Am I having SEX?!?!?!?" But, at that point, he'd already stolen a part of my innocence, so I just laid there and let him finish. When he was through, I walked my first "walk of shame" back to my room, and proceeded to go on a very long, and sore, run.

Why, before now, had I never thought of this night as rape? Had someone else written the preceeding paragraph I would agree in a moment that the situation described was indeed rape. As Laura Sessions Stepp describes in "Unhooked" so many of these situations fall into what young women have come to perceive as the "gray area", that insidious "if I hadn't gone to that party" place, that "if I hadn't kissed him" place; the mistaken belief that when both partners have been drinking heavily, responsibility for what happened falls to no one, because "it just happens." In gray rape, as Stepps says, "the girl who may have come on like a hunter becomes the hunted." Young women are so eager to own their sexuality, to express themselves and take no shame for enjoying their bodies, that they are also so reluctant to see themselves as powerless. Most college codes of conduct, as well as criminal law, define rape as when a person penetrates the anus or vulva of another person without that person's freely given consent, and that the one giving consent must be coherent, i.e., if she or he is too drunk to make a choice, consent cannot be assumed. Despite this rather clear definition, I think young women, including myself, are reluctant to wear the label of "rape" because so often what follows is "victim", and a victim is the last thing I want to be.

As I said earlier though, I do think there is some value to be found in naming this evil and calling it what it is. I don't want retribution, I am not seeking legal reprocussions, in fact, if Ed never knows he raped me, it wouldn't make much difference to me. I do know this: being able to say out loud "I was raped", being able to recognize that all these years I had been chastizing myself for carelessly throwing away my virginity when in fact it was taken from me, and beginning to understand how all of the shame that I've carried with me since that one night has shaped the relationship I have with my sexuality today, has brought me a peace I have not yet known. And at this moment on my journey, I do hope that this bit of clarity will lead to a more loving and respectful attitude towards my own body, sexual being, and person as a whole. Click here to read more...

Back at it

I've been thoroughly immersed in the chaos that is moving and am *finally* more or less settled in, just in time for the holidays :) I was also teaching last semester, which was one of the most challenging, yet also rewarding, things that I have ever done. Forgive me, dear readers, (do I have any?) for my absence. I have two posts brewing in my brain already, hopefully they will come to fruition shortly. In the meantime, amuse yourselves with this. And read Hugo, one of my all-time favorite bloggers. Click here to read more...

I got stuck at #8

My therapist thinks it would do me good to start dating again. After all, Eric and I have been broken up for over 7 months, and he's already married for over a month already, for crying out loud. Isn't it time to "get back out there"? I suppose; easier said than done, however. She suggested I take a look at eHarmony. She's had other clients use the web service successfully and prefers it over others she's reviewed. I, on the other hand, am not too keen on the notion of a dating service. I find it all so contrived. Maybe it's an unrealistic notion in today's society, but I prefer to meet men the old-fashioned way, actually meeting them in the course of my everyday life. Think of it, if you have a mutual friend, the guy's already "pre-screened" in a way. You trust your friend's judgement, so you know the guy they are recommending to you is an inherently good person, even if the dating doesn't work out. If you meet someone while participating in a favorite hobby or activity of yours, at least you have somewhere to start. Nancy has never led me astray before, so I went ahead and logged on.

I didn't get very far though; In fact, I barely made it past the first page. Question #8: "Would you be willing to accept a person who has child(ren) under age 18 living with him full-time? yes or no." What happened to "maybe?" How can such a complicated question have such definitive answer options? Is he a widower? Yes, of course I would be ok with children. Is he a man-whore whose exes have dumped the children on him and ran off with their new rock-n-roll lovers? Absolutely not. What about a divorced man? I don't know about that one, what were the circumstances of the divorce? How is the relationship with the ex now (because you know you will always have her in the relationship)? Maybe I'm thinking too hard.

Or maybe I'm too scared and looking for excuses to not do this. Sometimes the thought of dating again terrifies me. I have plenty of excuses for not dating, and while they are true (I am in the midst of moving and I really have recently started a new job which is exhausting) I think a lot of that is rationalization.

So, we'll see. Maybe I'll just have to sit down with a good friend and trudge through the questions together. And maybe something good will come of it, not necessarily in the form of an elegible bachelor, but a little less fear of the big bad dating world. Click here to read more...

Sunday Mourning

I never knew mourning to be like this.
An everyday act of missing, wishing, wanting

(you)

Dreaming that things were different

A dull ache of sadness
That never goes away
(And you never get used to.)

You're lost to me now
(And I'm lost without you.)

Please come back
(hurry) Click here to read more...

Nothing left to say... or feel

I met up with Eric after work today for a few brews at one of my favorite pubs. The oddest thing about our time together was how much it felt like a "non-event". No pulling of heart strings, no yearnings, no strong feelings whatsoever. In fact, earlier that day, I almost didn't even feel like going, not in the sense that I wanted to avoid him, just that it had been a long day at work and I felt more like going home and relaxing. I used to anticipate with such giddiness any opportunity to spend time with him that this was an entirely new experience for me. It makes me wonder if this is progress towards resolution, or just a new phase. Who knows? Maybe I'm just putting up walls around my heart to avoid the inevitable heart break, again. Click here to read more...

A Wedding to Break my Heart

As if Eric and Jennifer being together wasn't the cause of enough heartache (see previous entry, "Of Love and Consternation"), adding to our (Eric's and mine) already strained friendship is the news that they are getting married. In five weeks. Fuck, I certainly was not prepared for that. Any inkling of happiness I may have been able to muster for them over the course of months is overpowered by this stabbing pain shooting through my heart. I am relatively certain that had I had the time to adjust to their being together, to meet Jennifer slowly and "get used to" her being a part of Eric's life, that I could have come to terms with these new circumstances. Their choosing to get married on August 15th robs me of that option. It robs me of the ability to get through this slowly, to take care of my heart and listen to my feelings along the way, and go step-by-baby step. I feel forced into making a decision I never wanted to have to make. He's asked for my mailing address so I am fairly certain an invitation will be arriving shortly in my "real" mail in-box. What on Earth am I to do? Set aside my feelings and go anyways, knowing there is a good chance my heart will be breaking the entire time? Or risk ostracizing myself and not show up to save my own sanity? Weddings are celebrations, but what would I be celebrating? The fact that less than six months after we broke up, he's walking down the aisle with another woman? I find it very difficult to celebrate an event that feels like tangible reminder of how very little I ever meant to Eric romantically. I am literally in an emotional tail spin over this, and I just wish I knew what to do. Click here to read more...

Communities built based on the assumption of cheap gasoline

A recently published Garrison Keillor editorial piece really articulated what I've been thinking about a lot lately. Upon the sale of my mom's house, I will soon be leaving Surburbia (aka BFE according to many of my friends), for "the big city" and the change couldn't come sooner. In the past months, I have grown weary of the big-box retailers, cookie-cutter McMansions, and chain restaurants that define the surburban landscape. I am fed up with a community laid out in such a way as to make cars the most practical form of transportation- lack of sidewalks and bike lanes, highways dividing neighborhoods, and buses that stop at 6:30 pm and don't run at all on weekends. I yearn for the kind of life that Garrison Keillor speaks of, the kind where neighbors get to know each other by passing each other while walking home from the bus stop, or biking to a concert at the lake nearby. A life unhindered by cars, where using an automobile for transportation is the exception, rather than the rule. So as I further my search for my own place, I have very specific criteria with regard to location relative to work, access to public transit and proximity to bike trails and entertainment. My only hope is that I can find something that satisfies these criteria without breaking my budget!

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Couldn't be more proud

I am so incredibly proud of my cousin Andrea who finished her first marathon this past weekend. She took up running just last fall when she decided to run the Mayor's Midnight Sun Marathon in Anchorage, Alaska on, what else, Summer Solstice. She's quite an inspiration to this triathlete hopeful!

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Abstractly Me

My artist friend Doug Pexa just posted this drawing of me on his website, based off some photos I posted on his online artist collaborative, the Figure Drawing Factory. See more of his work on his website: http://www.pexa-artstudios.com/index.html Click here to read more...

Of Love and Consternation: The Sticky Business of Friendship with Exes

I recently read an interesting advice column by Carolyn Hax regarding the sticky issue of friendship with exes in relationships. This particular issue is hitting home with me of late, but from a different angle than the one she addresses in the column. I am not currently in a relationship where I need to worry about the impact my choices in social companions makes on a significant other, rather I am the female friend of an ex whose current girlfriend is uncomfortable with our close friendship. I was the “in-between” relationship with regard to Eric and Jennifer, i.e. they’d broken up after dating for a significant time period and even contemplated marriage at one point; Eric and I met about a year and a half later and subsequently dated for about 6 months, we broke up and they have now since reunited. After a “time-out” period for grieving and heart-healing, Eric and I have, at his urging, worked through the issues surrounding our break-up and managed to move on and forge quite an enjoyable friendship, a first for me. Before long, I was buying him a celebratory soy chai latte after he was awarded Teacher of the Year, and he was listening to my work frustrations over beers at one of our favorite pubs, things good friends do, and all was apparently well. While I don’t get to spend as much time with him as I did when we were dating, the time we do find to hang out is superbly entertaining and pleasurable. I try not to treat Jennifer as the “elephant in the room” when we get together (it should be noted that I’ve never met her); we have plenty of other things to discuss without my explicitly asking about her, but I also recognize that she is a major part of his life now, and she will come up. And sometimes, for the sake of reinforcing reality (for my own continual healing) and trying to be a supportive friend, I do directly ask how things are going, how the house hunting is progressing, etc (they plan to sell their respective homes and purchase one together.) It takes conscientious effort and a lot of honesty to maintain such an arrangement, but we seemed to be making it work… until last Sunday. We were having dinner before I had to go to work and something about the whole evening seemed “off.” As I was pressed for time, I didn’t bring it up just then, and I left the restaurant feeling very cross. I later wrote him a general “is everything ok?” email, mentioning that something seemed wrong and I just wanted to “check in”. He writes back that no, nothing is wrong, “I’m just sensitive about talking about issues surrounding Jennifer with you because of consternation and I know Jennifer doesn’t really like it when I talk about spending time with you so I minimize that as well.” That doesn’t much sound like “nothing” wrong to me.

And thus I am at an impasse. I already lost this man once to Jennifer when he decided to end our romantic relationship in order to give theirs another try, it would be unbearable to lose him to her again because she objects to our friendship. On the other hand, love involves sacrifice… am I to be the sacrifice Eric makes for the sake of their relationship? Am I to dutifully step aside out of love for my friend so that he might have a successful relationship with the woman he’s chosen? Or would that only serve to reinforce unfounded insecurity and jealousy (?) on Jennifer’s part and solve nothing? Would it be helpful if I met Jennifer and took away the mystery of me, plead my case, somehow “proved” that I’m not out to steal Eric or sabotage their relationship? Am I asking too much to have the same depth of friendship with Eric that we’ve previously had even though Jennifer is now part of the equation? Am I violating something by asking about their relationship? Is there some unwritten rule that exes do not discuss current relationships with each other?

All I know is this: I love Eric profoundly, as I do all my closest friends, of both genders. I am a better person because he is in my life; all I want is for him to stay there. I am struggling with this. Is it wrong of me to not want a conditional friendship, some weird version of a relationship where he explicitly excludes a major part of his life from me, as well as to know that such a friendship could very likely be the cause of distress in his relationship? Or, is this something that will just take a while to adjust to; the insecurity of a “new” (or in their case, “re” new) relationship will fade over time?

I am really bothered by all of this- I hope Eric and I get a chance to talk soon, and perhaps a good friend will be able to offer some perspective and help clear my mind about all of this. Click here to read more...

The "Other" Historical Moment

Last week Barack Obama secured the Democratic Presidential nomination and a long, arduous campaign came to an end. Part of me was relieved—now we can focus on November and getting our candidate into the Oval Office. But, at the same time, I was rather undone by it all. Obama was in my backyard, a rally in St. Paul, where 17,000 supporters cheered him on and another 15,000 watched from outside, and yet, I felt not a twinge of enthusiasm about any of it. I was deflated, but could not really pinpoint what that was about until I read an article in Monday’s Star Tribune. The commentator insightfully pointed out that “as one momentous hallmark of history was being served up -- the first racial minority in the country to win a major party nomination -- another was tossed out the door.” As a young feminist woman who as a little girl dreamed of seeing a female president in her lifetime, I can’t help but feel a deep sense of loss and frustration. I’ve long admired Hillary Clinton, for her work to create national healthcare as first lady to her leadership in the Senate, especially her efforts confronting the FDA and its delays in approving Plan B’s over-the-counter status, an issue I was particularly close to. As Rep. Alice Hausman, DFL-St. Paul said, "Every time I hear about this 'great historic moment' with Obama, it's like the dagger goes a little deeper. We were longing for this historic moment, too. Some see that history because he's a person of color. But some of us still see a man, and that looks a lot more like more of the same than if it were a woman." I fully intend to support Barack Obama this fall, but admittedly I will be doing so with a bit of a heavy heart and a lot less fervor than I would have had things gone the other way. Click here to read more...

Why "Anecdotal Evidence"?

A friend once asked why I chose this particular title for my blog. The phrase first struck my fancy when I was taking a class in the first semester of my nursing program and we had to complete an online module on alternative medicine. The module took great pains to point out that while there is not a large body of scientific research that speaks to the various modalities' efficacies and mechanisms, there also is not conclusive scientific research on the majority of what is considered "traditional" medicine. I can't recall the exact figures, but somewhere around one-third of routinely performed medical procedures and perscribed medications are actually backed up by hard-core, scientific evidence. And the rest? Well, that is what we call "anecdotal evidence." As I advance more and more into the depths of the medicine, I discover how much we rely on this kind of information, how much is done "because it works." Drugs such as bupropion for smoking cessation and sildenafil for erectile dysfunction were actually discovered anecdotally as they were being studied for other indications (bupropion for depression and sildenafil for pulmonary hypertension.) Don't get me wrong, I am not claiming irresponsible practice on the part of physicians and health care practitioners around the world, I am simply pointing out that while there is so much we don't know, we can still deepen our understanding simply by paying attention and collecting anecdotal evidence.

This blog, is in a way, my own exercise in observation and effort to pay more attention to seemingly insignificant details. What is life but billions of individiual collections of anecdotal evidence? We are shaped by our experiences, our interpretations of those experiences, our observations and the observations of others.

Right now my life doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me. But perhaps, through writing, and feedback from readers (if there are any!) I might gain some perspective and begin to see the big picture taking shape.
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Having a "glass half-empty" week

Blech- I have had three glorious days off and now have to go to work tomorrow. I wish I could say I "get" to go to work tomorrow, but alas, right now, it feels like a chore. I've been rather frustrated with my current situation, feeling unsupported by co-workers, uninspired by the manager, yet feeling I am stuck there for lack of experience and better opportunity. Wanting to shut this door, but not going to until I find a window! Click here to read more...

A Renewed Conviction to Write

I recently finished Atul Gawande's "Better". In the last section entitled "Changing Doctors, Changing Outcomes", adapted from a speech Gawande gave to a class of medical students, he expounds on a list of five suggestions "for how one might make a worthy difference, for how one might become, in other words, a positive deviant."

I've been struggling with this lately, this feeling of being merely "a cog in a machine". Hospitals are enormous places, patients come and go, residents rotate out every three months... it is very difficult sometimes to feel as though you are ever making much of an impact on anyone's life.

Although primarily aimed at physicians, I believe Gawande's suggestions can be applied to many professions in health care. And so today I take Gawande's fourth suggestion: "write something." He explains: "by soliciting modest contributions from the many,we have produced a store of collective know-how with far greater power than any individual could have achieved." Thus we improve the system. And, personally, Gawande observes, "writing lets you step back and think through a problem. Even the angriest rant forces the writer to achieve a degree of thoughtfulness." Thus we improve ourselves.

So, after quite a hiatus, here's to a renewed adventure in blogging.

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Living the Onion Life

Does anyone else ever feel like this? Slowly peeling away the layers and crying the whole time? I've been feeling like that today. My childhood home is going to be sold and thus I have been forced to sort through boxes upon boxes of "stuff" that I've stored there all these years. Sometimes this involves the thoughts of "why did I keep this?" And into the recycling it goes. Other times I come across items more apt to evoke emotional responses: poetry from a turbulent adolescence, treasures from travels that I've had no place to put, love letters from before that relationship tragically fell apart. These items tell the story of my life, just like the saying on the side of the Walker says "Bits and pieces put together to present a semblance of a whole." Seeing those objects, reading those words, brought me back to those times in my life. This is my history, and yet, I am faced with the prospect of keeping or tossing. What does one save? How much does sentimental value count? Do I really want to move all this stuff? And so I sat on the office floor, next to the paper shredder, diving deeper into boxes, removing layer after layer, peeling back the memories, deciding what to save, what memories to hang on to, and what to forget and throw away... and tearing up all along the way.

But, perhaps more important than the issue of my boxes of "stuff", is the changing dynamic between me and my mom. As my trip through the 20's comes to a close and I begin to "launch" into a more mature adulthood (as opposed to "young" adulthood) I've realized that up until this point I've thought of my mom as a constant in my life, a refuge of familiarity that I could always count on to be there when life overwhelms me. But this is becoming less true with each passing year. My mom has raised her children and deserves to live her life for herself once again. Of course she should retire, sell the house, get remarried and move out of state. I love her so strongly and want nothing but for her to be happy. After all she's been through she certainly deserves it. And yet, there is an 8-year-old child inside me screaming "NO! what about me??" As much as I rationally want to let her go, somehow, it still hurts. Click here to read more...

Vacation Pictures

It is always a whirlwind when one returns from vacation. Things have finally settled down and I was able to put my pictures together. Click below the fold for the links. Enjoy!

Paris: http://picasaweb.google.com/leslie.s.newman/ParisJanuary2008?authkey=A7lgW5liUIk

Barcelona: http://picasaweb.google.com/leslie.s.newman/BarcelonaJanuary2008?authkey=sYWvA2QOUHQ

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David Sedaris on Living Abroad

I just finished "Me Talk Pretty One Day" by David Sedaris. I am quite sure I attracted more than a few odd looks from nearby Parisiens as I chuckled to myself on the Metro. While I highly recommend reading this novel purely for entertainment value, I also detected a certain wisdom on the appreciation of other culture that is worth noting.

The passage that particularly struck me goes like this:

"Life might be difficult for a while, but I would tough it out because living in a foreign country is one of those things that everyone should try at least once. My understanding was that it completed a person, sanding down the rough provincial edges and transforming you into a citizen of the world."

Having recently revisited the city where I first experienced life in a foreign country, I must say, I completely agree. In fact, I couldn't have said it better myself.
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