Wow, time really does fly. I am going to be 21 soon. An adult, too quick. During birthdays we are supposedly entitled to one wish, and this is my wish (request or whatever nicer words that fits in) :

i) Don’t buy me any presents. Instead, donate the money to a worthy cause.
ii) Wish me and pray for the less fortunate too.
iii) Do something nice for a loved one.

I dedicate my 21st birthday in hope of a better world.

Self-reflection is no mere staring in the mirror. It involves stripping pass those carefully installed pretenses and trying to reconcile whether one can be comfortable with his/her own skin. It is both a retrospective and a prospective vice – attempting to draw connections between who we were, are and will be. To some it is a private affair; a ritual performed only in the presence of oneself and in silence if need be. To others, it’s a social affair; an engagement conducted within a group of trusted friends – honest questions posed and unvarnished answers received. And to the rest, it is a mechanical affair, where progress and personal growth can be meticulously checked against their pre-determined checklist.

Then there’s me: a person who employs all three depending on the mood and circumstances. I’ve spent the last 1 week or so talking to close friends about my hopes and fears, and subsequently retreated into my cloister and face my inner demons – trying to figure out whether I can still remember the narratives behind each scar.

I turned 21.

My favorite sentence of the year was written by a friend of mine, Zhi Wei: “We are ultimately, the collection of our stories.” And based on that backdrop, 2010 has been a messy affair – splurged with polar opposites of equal proportion and intensity. I recalled distinctively in my high school history lesson [my favorite class] that Hinduism recognizes many gods but only three main deities: Vishnu, the god of preservation; Shiva, the god of destruction; and Brahma, the god of creation. The balanced interactions among them is responsible for sustaining a life without a beginning or an end.

And that is how I have chosen to approach my self-reflection. Amidst all the clutter and noise, I have to decide what to preserve, what to destroy and what to create.

Close Friends Graduated.

Before proceeding any further, I would first have to dissect the whole notion that year 2010 is independent on its own right; that it is negligible links to its predecessors and thus hardly affected by the historic storms and sunshines. I bring this up because I couldn’t help but to admire the sheer determination of some of my friends who can decree a fresh slate beginning each new year; a white canvas painting that is un-smeared, ready to be decorated to their fancies. But mine can never be so despite the times I demanded for it. My years are like living organisms – they feed on the remnants of the previous years, both good and bad. New Years are just like some fallible man-made concept where we indulge in fun fair like pitching goals and aspirations but they shape not the vortex of time. When both hands of the clock point to the heaven, it’s as though I walked through a porous bubble, carrying both the joys that levitate me and the baggages that weigh me down.

I have no reset button.

Won my first gold medal at the MidWest Games.

What I am about to embark on might be construed as washing dirty linen in public; unnecessary exposing the soft spots in my armor, only to have them haunt me in the later years. Old sins have long shadows, as Agatha Christie would put it. But I cannot shed plagues without candor and honesty; I cannot destroy what I do not acknowledge.

I held an eagle.

I started my freshman year with much rigor and energy, just as any excited first timer. If time permits, there was nothing that I wouldn’t do, both academically and otherwise. My heart grew to embrace my university and by the end of the summer, I pretty much called this place home. But as I cruised into my second year things slowly started to fall apart. I grew much restless and my heart yearned for things that my university cannot provide. There was nothing that I wouldn’t give up to be on the runway at O’Hare International Airport to just hear the Boeings soar again into the sky, or spend my time feeding sugar canes to the guinea pigs in Ecuador. I was so caught up in the euphoria of my experiences that I forgot to take my heart back to the university. However, I was cognizant of my obligations and responsibilities, thus I cruised along. By that time, it was already useless to deny that there was already a massive shift in the way I interacted with my surroundings. I felt trapped within that archaic goals and aspirations that I had at the beginning of my freshman year as I no longer resonated with the horizons that I have crafted for myself. Most days were a bore and despite me doing well in my classes, it’s undeniably that there is only one force that has sustained me through the days:

Inertia.

My Oxford Classmates.

Then came the inflection point: the University of Oxford. Was it just mere coincidence or that I arrived one the dot when the bells in Magdalen Tower started chiming as I stepped out of my cab as though it’s calling me home? There is just something about the grey cobblestones and old granite pavements that imbues an intoxicating scent of vitality that I haven’t felt since my freshman year. I loved everything about Oxford – every minute, every encounter, every class…everything. I have never felt so alive that when it was time to go, I nearly teared [my professor did, so I'm not that ashamed to admit it]. Solo traveling around Eastern Europe soon followed. The details are immaterial, but all that there is to know is that I returned to Ann Arbor consumed with dread. It was obvious that the start of my third year was a complete disaster. I hated everything about Ann Arbor and I tried finding every reason to leave. Needless to say, my grades suffered tremendously [you would think I was on drugs if you saw it].

I didn’t care anymore.

In Istanbul with Zhi Wei.

But there is a saying that goes: “When one hits rock bottom, the only way left to go is up.” At one point in the daze, I knew that if I was to make a comeback I would have to swallow my pride and quite simply, realize that I am not as invincible as I thought I was. I started re-examining everything I did, especially the premise in which my actions were based. Soon, I was back on my feet, albeit a little too late. I felt at peace, which only comes when one begins to ditch the “what ifs,” bite the bullet and carry on. President Clinton is right: ‘It is only when one is down on his/her knees that he/she is forced to define who he/she is and what he/she stands for.’ I needed to start over.

I’ll create a reset button.

Thanksgiving in Upenn.

So for this year: no pompous aspirations, nor fleeting goals! I have said what I needed to say and the time for whining has to stop because there is so much life left to be lived. When it is one minute to midnight I’ll hit the reset button, knowing that I will walk into 2011 being at peace with myself, because I truly know the stories behind each scar. With three semesters left to graduation and a clean slate….

I will paint the masterpiece of my dreams.

Happy New Year! =)

]]> http://ourcoffeestops.com/2011/01/one-minute-to-midnight-2/feed/ 2 http://ourcoffeestops.com/2010/12/prophecy/ http://ourcoffeestops.com/2010/12/prophecy/#comments Fri, 31 Dec 2010 05:18:59 +0000 Jian Wei http://ourcoffeestops.com/?p=5668 [As part of a blogging exercise, Zhi Wei and I have agreed to write something entitled "Prophecy."]

I’ve always been curious on how fortune-tellers come about their decisions – be it reading tea leaves, gazing at crystal balls or reading palms. Considering that these fortune telling do not hold credo in the world that demands quantitive substantiation for any claims, it’s still a wonder how they manage to proliferate within our society. Albeit, in a dispersed fashion; surreptitiously tucked amidst the heavy crowd of the shopping centers, or the flea market. I wonder what is it that draws people to them?

Do they feed on our fears and insecurities? The unsaturated yearning to clutch straws in the drowning downpour of uncertainties; the instinctive wanting to sign post our lives with just enough markers so that we feel “safe,” while leaving just a tad room of ambiguity so that we don’t feel that our lives are scripted from the start. That’s why we make New Year resolutions, don’t we? Although we all know that we never get about to finishing half of them. In the celebrated ritual of setting up goals and aspirations, we deceptively imbed mechanisms designed to ground us to familiar territory. Our psyche disdain uncertainties; and we could care less what the fortune teller says – we’ll just keep hunting for different prophecies until we hear the ones that we would like to hear.

There’s this “hole” in Hagia Sophia, Istanbul that legend has it that if one inserts his/her thumb and twists it a complete circle – if he/she could feel a certain moisture in the “hole,” his or her wish will come true. [Ok, this sounds DAMN wrong. =S]

It is pretty comical that while prophecies and predictions tell very little of our future, they reveal a lot of our current state of existence. They are after all, a blatant statement of our insecurities, garnished and sugar-coated in the least vulnerable way. We don’t trot along the streets telling strangers about our unfulfilled desires, but heck! When the new year comes, everyone finds the window of opportunity and also the comfort to parade them. Reading the wish list is an intriguing sport – some are totally humorous, their presence is just to add chuckling twists to an otherwise somber linen e.g “I want to have Justin Timberlake’s kids.” [I swear that that was real.] But for those who are experienced enough, they will know what those that are NOT included on the wish list are as important as those that are – if not more. We are not dumb fools. We know that aspirations/wishes/prophecies levitate us from the ground with positive energy, only to drop us on our asses when they are not realized.

Now here comes the interesting part: how do people cope with the pain when our asses crash on the ground? I can’t speak for others, but it’s funny how my process of rationalization could act as effective band-aids to ease the exposed wounds. I can rationalize anything and everything to death, I think. It is rather easy to come up with a whole series of reasons on why I am better off without those goals achieved or that without them, I’m that not screwed up anyway. At times, it kicks in so naturally that it begins to border hypocrisy.

Oh well, that’s assuming that I can remember my new year goals anyway. All I can remember is that this time around last year I was stuck in Paris ushering the new year with fireworks that looked like it detonated prematurely. Fast forward till today, with only one day to go till 2011 screams at my face, I still have no goals, no wish lists etc.

I’m just too tired to make them.

Hello Tuhan, please tell me my future k? I’ve been a very good boy this year! =P I promise to cook you curry when I go to heaven.

Don’t get me wrong though. This isn’t a negative cry. I realized that I’m not gonna go about achieving them anyway. Growing older, the layers of complexity that wrap my life gets thicker and thicker that they make naive aspirations a travesty. I have grown a penchant for broad ambiguous targets – those that grant me so much room to maneuver that nothing could be defined as success or a failure. If there’s anything that my years in Umich have taught me, it is to just listen to the heart and go where the road takes me. I no longer plan for eternity; I just take each day as it comes. It saves the heart from much pain, and it’s so much fun along the way.

Or I could just go to the fortune teller….

It’s so much simpler anyway. =S

[Another post will be coming up, "One Minute to Midnight" - it'll be my concluding post for the year.]

We accept precedence at face value and think that it is the gospel truth.

I entered the banquet of tertiary education with a pre-packaged notion on what my life will be for the 4 years here in the States. And those notions that I formed were based on what I generically thought best about myself throughout these years. Hours of pondering led to conclusions drawn on what my strengths were and what fundamentals they were sustained on. After two years of mishap analysis, reality crept in and the writing on the wall became a little too apparent to ignore. The initial snapshot of my graduating moment would be me cladded in silky black robes with a flat mortar board on my head. I would have my family beside me and a fat smile would say it all. I would have aced this university with a triple major, president of a whole hosts of clubs and most probably I would already have had a leg into the top graduate schools of my time. My school years would buzz away, packed to the brim with commitments that would make my peers shudder and smack in awe. More is MORE they say…I would epitomize that saying.

Here comes the reality check:

This is my third year at the University of Michigan and save for leading one high profile event, I haven’t been participating in many clubs, what more leading them. I just decided to shelve one major into the dustbin in exchange for a minor instead, leaving me with just 2 majors in the end. I don’t like slaving for my classes and they are turning into a bore because I neither have the time for them, nor do I have the time to find time – a huge bulk can be attributed to the lack of efficiency as opposed to a gorilla-sized commitment. In the past two weeks, I’ve only slept on my own bed 4 times as I’ve spent my nights at my friend’s place because I needed someone to wake me up in the morning.

When your own bed feels colder than your friend’s couch, you know that shit just hit the fan.

So, what went wrong?

To search for the faults, I first had to connect the dots. Why did I dip myself into actuarial science anyway? Let’s be clear, I was neither a genius in math nor did I ooze out any math-sy demeanor [I freaking need a calculator when doing the most simple arithmetic, say...90/4]. The money isn’t a factor either – I actually went for accountancy before plunging into realm where numbers are monarchs. The answer I have been searching was there all along:

People.

It should always be about people – The Chicago Roosevelt Fellows, one of the best times of my life.

My flirtation with additional mathematics sparked in Form 4 because I had the best unconventional teachers who managed to inspire me to see beyond the numbers that I was learning. Ms Alicia carries a very unique personality and I would have to say that I was more drawn to her as a teacher than what she had to teach. Attending Mr. Chan’s tuition classes helped sealed the deal. I reveled in Additional Mathematics and subsequently emerged best in my class for that subject. It wasn’t math anymore – it was a craft. So I went into actuarial science, because I remembered the excitement when I could solve a question, amidst the hair pulling from my peers; or the inflation of satisfaction when I nailed a problem that was harder than what was required of my syllabus.

History repeated itself when I took my Math 425 – Introduction to Probability. My Professor was a charming lady from India who spoke with an Indian accent that was still very much pronounced. She was always seen with her specs dangling from her hunched neck and her fingers white from the remnants of the chalks. Wrinkles permeate her forehead, they told tales of her age. She would allow me to sit next to her table as I worked through every problem in the book – EVERY PROBLEM – for three hours. When she had to attend meetings, she would say, “It’s ok. Stay. I’ll be back in a few hours.” And came back she did, helping me through all my math problems till the night beckoned. At the end of it all, when I finally nailed the last question at the very last required chapter, she gazed at me with those grandmother eyes and said with a smile:

“You are a good student.”

I scored an A+ in her class.

It took sometime for me to swallow the pride and backtrack to the roots of my strengths. I don’t like busy schedules for it robs me of my time to concentrate on what I think is important: people and relationships. This may not apply to everyone, but studying to me is more of a relationship between a professor and a learner, than those indiscernible crap loaded in the textbooks. I am not a very bright student [academically speaking]; I merely work harder than most of my peers. There is a passion that ignites in me when I feel that a professor is really invested in what I have to offer and by default, sees the best in me. From then on, studying will no longer be a chore but an enjoyable process of enquiry. And that was what I felt when I was in Oxford with Dr Addison teasing an answer from the cohort as opposed to feeding it to us. “You’ve got this in you. Just connect the dots!” I keep telling myself every time I left Dr Addison’s office feeling a little un-intelligent than what I thought I was.

I’ve got this in me.

The Low-Fat Ketupat Lifestyle – Complete ZEN. =P

My life isn’t measured by metrics, thus efficiency isn’t my credo. I like to take my own sweet time, doing things that I think are meaningful but also in a process that extracts the best out of me. I like to day dream; to stare at clouds and to think of the “NEXT BIG THING.” That was why I ran for head prefect anyway or the Malaysian Cultural Night Director here in Michigan. I saw a vision and I wanted to be that bridge that turns it into reality. An intellectually-charged conversation over steaming coffee is as meaningful to me as those A-pluses that I amassed, possibly even more.

I’ve been sitting in the car of life for far too long, forgetting to ask the driver to stop for me to enjoy the sceneries that zipped through. Finally I have. I’ve stopped and I saw what I was missing. And just when I thought I was alone, I came across an article about President Obama during his Columbia University years. He remembered it as years of reclusiveness. “I needed it.” he said. It was a stage of life where he simmered in this thoughts and brewed the ideas that shaped him in his Presidency.

So, after a midterm review, I’m turning this ship around and bringing it back home. In doing so, I would have to convince myself that dropping my environmental classes despite doing very well in them is in-sync with my broader aim of lightening my course load. As I’ve said, learning has always been a people process for me, and there shouldn’t be a reason why it should be any different now that I’m in my tertiary years. So, I can be sure of making my last few years here more people-centric. Emails would be sent to catch up with professors who have taught me some time ago – I sure hope these relationships last. =)

Just for your information, I took sometime writing this post. I allowed the thoughts to simmer for awhile, wondering if this is just another knee-jerk reaction of mine, where a cursor click on the ‘delete post’ button would have solved everything. As I was writing this, one potent memory came to mind. It was when Pn Yek, brought her former students from SMK SJ to my secondary school to tell us about what they thought about leadership and life. Cynthia, one of those charges, said: “In the end of the day, your life here in secondary school will not be about the As that you get or the medals that you keep. Instead, it is like a book and you walking through the pages as it flips. In the end, it will be about the foot prints that you leave behind.”

The footprints that I leave behind…

]]> http://ourcoffeestops.com/2010/11/footprints-we-leave-behind/feed/ 1 http://ourcoffeestops.com/2010/09/looking-back-i-saw-a-boy/ http://ourcoffeestops.com/2010/09/looking-back-i-saw-a-boy/#comments Sat, 25 Sep 2010 10:16:36 +0000 Nicholas http://ourcoffeestops.com/?p=5492

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Crossroads. I’ve reached yet another crossroad in my life, hmm.

You know.. I still haven’t digested the fact that this is IT, that I’m finally done with studies. Since day one of CAT, I’ve been looking forward to this day every semester as I completed a few sets of papers. Now that I’m finally here… it suddenly gives me that feeling of ‘whats next?’.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to boast about my newfound freedom. Heck I haven’t been THIS free before, not even after my SPM, I immediately started CAT in January mind you. Never ever I was able to enjoy a month long of holidays before, the ‘next’ semester was always occupying whats worth of that 2-3 weeks break (I don’t even call it a holiday) after the finals for each semester.

Not that I’m not finally relieved of it either. I’m totally overjoyed by the fact that I was able to finish the journey on a happy note, and a confident one whatnot, but I shall not be too overconfident as He is able to convert a pass to a fail just as easy as from a fail to a pass, quoted from Pei Yi’s. August 23rd, the day of reckoning. I shall wait patiently then.

I still can’t get used to the idea that my life is gonna change totally in a few months time. I don’t know if you’re supposed to feel all so matured when you join the working world or not, but I still feel the same. I mean, if you were to ask me to begin my career tomorrow, I would still feel the same as of today. So its like, I can’t actually get used to the fact that, I will be working in a few months time. How can time passed so quickly?

I had a chat with Jian Wei in the evening, alot has changed. We’ve changed. We are no longer the teenagers we were so used to be. I’ve changed, for sure. I just feel so.. heavy hearted to leave the old me behind, I just miss the old times you know.

You know initially I viewed Coffeestops as a mere blog, in which I think most of us do too, but over the years, it grew into something much more. I no longer view Coffeestops as a blog, but more of an identity. It is an identity that the 9 of us shared, it is a mark in our personal history that we can relate to others in the future, it is something that belonged.. to us.

As of now, I won’t be able to make guarantees that I will update Coffeestops as frequent as I used to, heck I wasn’t even updating anything till the previous post. I really don’t know what will happen in the future, where I will be working, how busy I will be, but there is always something I will always remember. That, I am an author of Coffeestops.

I really look forward to a day, when we are all successful in our own ways, and then we come together for a gathering. It will be awesome. I am actually looking forward to that Epic Reunion thing Christopher created on Facebook, so you authors who are reading, please do make yourself available! Irna, Wei Ling, Sarven, I really don’t know if you still read Coffeestops or not, since neither of you bothered to comment on my previous post nor did any of you posted anything since Coffeestops 2.0 was introduced, but I just want you all to know, we’re a family.

I shall stop my thoughts here. Wish me luck in my future undertakings! Heh.

The Lovely Ladies =)

And I think I bombed my finals. Nah, it’s not the “I’m sure you will do well, don’t worry” kind of feeling. It’s the feeling you get when you just KNOW that you left cracks unattended and just wishing you could do more. And it doesn’t help when you knew you have done the best you can. After the exam, I timidly crept back into my room recalling the events that lead to that pivotal moment; searching hard for something to blame; more precisely: searching for reasons to blame myself.

The "Family" NYEHEHEHE!

And there’s nothing. Nothing sucks more than to know your best isn’t enough. No amount of extra studying is gonna change anything. My performance during the span of that 90 minutes has nothing to do with what I studied or what I know of this subject. I panicked. I over complicate things when things are simply black and white. I chased ghosts. Would any amount of extra studying prevent that? Nah…..

It is in those few torturous moments when I got a rare glimpse straight into the heart of this joyous month of Hari Raya; straight through the superficial mosaics of friends, food, merriments and right into the honest revelations of ‘Maaf Zahir & Batin.’ It is those few unspoken words that linger through the halls of each Hari Raya celebration, probably one of the reasons why we have to choose celebrate it every year.

This one.......*no comment*

Through ‘Maaf Zahir & Batin,’ we celebrate being mortal, accepting that whether we are god believers or otherwise, there are things that are beyond our control.  And because there are things that are beyond our control, we are bound to fall short at some junctions in time. Because we fall short, we might hurt others or most importantly, we might hurt ourselves. Through ‘Maaf Zahir Batin,’ we celebrate life’s imperfections….we celebrate OUR imperfections; we do that by forgiving – By forgiving the misgivings that others have done upon us and asking for forgiveness for the transgressions that we have inflicted upon others.

But in this year’s Hari Raya, I learnt the essential ingredient that makes the whole equation work. That through ‘Maaf Zahir Batin,’ one has to first learn to celebrate his or her own imperfections before the favour can be acted upon others. Before I can start forgiving others or before I can muster the guts to look someone in the eyes to sincerely ask for forgiveness, I have to learn to forgive myself. This means learning not to be too hard on myself; knowing that there is always a bigger picture to every crap; and understanding how to put things into their honest perspectives.

I should forgive myself.

So screw the results of my exams, my GPA etc. They will take care of themselves, as long I enjoy what I am learning and knowing deep down inside that I have it given my all.

I can’t wait for next year’s Hari Raya. I wonder what I’ll discover next?

Meanwhile, I should start forgiving myself. =)

Selamat Hari Raya! Maaf Zahir dan Batin!

***

PS: Thanks to Fareza and Hamidah for the open house. =)

Vi-Zanne Ho came to town. And thus, I divorced my macro econs. =D

Vi-Zanne Ho came to town. I took her around. Her face devoid of frown. Oh, the happiness floats around!

They rhyme.

And so do many things in our lives. There is a reason why a circle doesn’t have a starting and an ending point, unless we arbitrary select them- They were never meant to exist. The same principle applies to friends. They come and they go. The departure of one leads to room for another. Look through your Facebook friend lists, how many of them do you still keep in touch with? How many friendships were just not “the same” again? I think we spent too much of our time measuring our worthiness as a friend by weighing the number of friends we still keep in touch with those who we don’t. We analogize them like treasures that we keep in our troves; once they are kept, they are meant to stay, forgetting that they have lives of their own; opaque to the fact that people grow and things change.

I think we accidentally reduced friends to numbers.

An Unflattering Picture of Herself I Must Say =D

Friendship needs more than just effort to sustain itself. It needs an environment; it needs circumstances. And circumstances change. So I am candid that while some friendships will last longer than others, most of the friendships that we have today will fade. We came into this world without friends and we don’t take them with us when we leave. Because they are not my treasures. I do not keep them and vice versa.

If they aren’t treasures than what are they? They are paths treaded, smiles savoured, jokes cracked, pranks played, tears shed, and arguments aplenty and above all, they are my life experiences.

Experiences that complete my circle of life.

For that I shall be eternally grateful.

I am happy. Isn't that enough?

We make chores out of everything, from trivial urges to consequential decisions. Being sociable/making friends, something that ought to be so ingrained in our human psyche can sometimes, unfortunately, be turned into a tedious and cumbersome chore. Coming abroad, I’ve seen Malaysians who avoid other Malaysians like plagues. Knocked into our heads, or at least some of us, is the idea that to milk the full international experience we must mix with people beyond the orbit of our comfort zone. Some took it to the extreme. And some never attempted to leave it.

So making friends have become a chore. It’s hardly the hellos, byes and meaningful conversations anymore. It has been blown to a cosmic explosion of one’s prowess in treading the minefields of human connections. To enhance one’s “worth,” some venture deep into the woods of people to shop for a diverse range of friends. Some do it subconsciously; some make it as a personal crusade. Along the way, unspoken tensions flare; rumours circulating and lines drawn. Yes….boundaries are created.

A diverse group of friends is certainly worthy of merit. But let’s not slave ourselves to it to the extent where the art of friendship-making seems so alien to us. This is a reminder to myself that I shall never racial/national/skin colour profile the choices of my friends. I shall mix with whoever I want; with any nationality that I like. I shall not be drawn into this whole debate of “Malaysian becoming too Singaporean” or “Malaysian-American wannabe” or “TOO Malaysian centric.”

My life isn’t centered around theatrical profligation.

I don’t draw lines and boundaries around my friends.

Cluttered Desk, Paradoxical Life

I am no constant. I tried to be but the efforts had been futile. It is surprising how little you know yourself until you finally take a decision to step back and peruse the person you see in the mirror. Actions after actions, ESPECIALLY the little and insignificants, were broken down into tiny parts and scrutinized for all they’re worth. It’s surprising how much the subconscious actions reveal the narratives of my personality: the complexities, the contradictions and the ironies.

I like leaving my desk cluttered. Because the truth is I hate cluttered desks. I messed it up, just to savour the joys of clearing it later. The euphoria derived upon the sight of seamless transformation – it’s as though I had just been reborn; with a renewed sense of purpose; with the ammunition to take on the rough days.

I pile my homework to the end. Because I hate last minute work. I keep it till the very end, just for the adrenalin rush as I gush through the assignments; just the sound of the heartbeat when I’m close to the finish line; and for the sense of accomplishment when I’ve nailed it all.

I tried to change. I tried being consistent, being everything that I SHOULD be. But heck! Don’t you guys know??

I live on boom and bust.