Photos_Best Christmas Present Ever

One of Raych Arles's friends Sarah envisions that when she gets to heaven, Jesus will greet her with open arms and warmly say: "Come cuddles," to which Sarah will respond by leaping into his arms as he cradles her into the gates of heaven. I support this vision and practice saying "Come cuddles" everyday for at least 10 minutes. At least. So thank you Raych Arles for crafting this beautiful cross stitch masterpiece.

Raych Arles with her Hello Kitty compact mirror and Christian Siriano's new book "Fierce Style"

Asher with homemade coasters by Raych Arles

"Come Cuddles" and a 3-D Coloring Book (thank you Ash Money)

FYVP_SNL Garth & Kat

For Your Viewing Pleasure...
The best skit I've seen in a long time.

Words_The Inevitable End_"Team Allison"

As 2009 comes to a close, I can't help but be annoyingly cliche and reflect upon the year's pluses and minuses.
Altogether, this year has been quiet and humbling; life-changing and exciting; hopeful and promising. I thought I'd share a few standout moments throughout the week; some highs and some lows. In no particular order...

Team Allison

This past spring, I lost a roommate Cortney (to marriage) and gained another roommate Allison (single). Her addition to our house was initially a bit embarrassing for me as she was once one of my kids in youth group for a summer as a high school summer intern. Translation: I'm old; she's young; and we're living under the same roof. This shows how much I've progressed in life, you see. But after a month or so of living with her, all of this self consciousness waned away as I began to observe and appreciate her living habits under our roof. It started with the little things like the way she prepared her meals with such unassuming thoughtfulness: a single sweet potato thrown in the oven; a miniature crock pot of seasoned chicken. She never flushed the toilet past 9 p.m. She got up early every morning to do her devotions with a fresh cup of coffee made from her french press. In warm weather, she either walked to work or rode her bike. She always wore bright complementary colors, sometimes with intricate patterns and polka dots. And for Christmas she made her own rubber stamp to create her own Christmas cards. She is the dearest and sweetest girl, and I'm so glad she has become a part of our home and is now a part of home to me.

Photos_A Caleb Krunk Christmas

Team Raych Arles

Team Ash Money, Raych Arles

Song: "Put the Lights on the Tree" - Sufjan Stevens

The host informed me we missed the late night dance party. :-(

Photos_Merry Christmas!

<3 Kimi & Bumble

Words_Starting Somewhere

Communication is underrated. Why can't we say what we need and want to say? Why is it so difficult to express exactly how we feel? Wouldn't it be helpful if life could be experienced a la the book The Giver, where memories and feelings could be transferred by touch? Would we abuse this privilege? Would it diminish verbal communication?

The thing though is that communication sucks sometimes... a lot. But ultimately, I think it's meant to make a deeper connection--sometimes good and sometimes bad--but without it, you don't get anywhere. It's a necessity for survival, for depth, for intimacy. I wish I was more forthright with my feelings but too often I'm too prideful trying to protect myself than admitting sadness, vulnerability, and hurt. Most of the time, the root of my poor communication is simply hurt and I have to practice saying to myself: "My feelings are hurt," and know that that's okay.

I hope to get better at communicating. I feel so fulfilled after having a long conversation with my best friend; or delving into a perhaps messy topic with Robbe but ultimately it bringing us closer together.

This life is too short to keep our mouths shut. I hope I can say what needs to be said when it should be said and that hurt feelings don't prevent needed growth between friends and lovers.

Design_She's a Maniac

What I learned in my Flashdance class

Photos_Weekend at Robbey's

FRIDAY

Evening

Pizza + wine + Friday Night Lights =

an appropriately spent Friday evening

SATURDAY

Movie

Dinner
@ Mitaka

Post-Dinner

Robbey's high school friends @ Warwick Hotel

 SUNDAY

Morning

The boys at Action Church at Club 19, York, PA

 

Words_The Hoop, The Hoop, The Hoop is on Fire!

What the hoop?
I came home tonight from class to find a familiar circular object, which I could only deduce to be a hula hoop, tightly wrapped in brown paper set against our fridge. I thought it funny and terribly ironic how one of my roommates had an apparent interest in one after I had recently scoured the Boston area for anything remotely resembling a hula hoop to accompany my Sufjan Steven's Super Teenage Hooper Heroes costume for Halloween (thank you Sufjan).

Come to find out that hula hoops are not year round accessible and are in fact seasonal items, which left this important piece of my costume up to my imagination. Well, thanks to Mandy and her candid resourcefulness, we crafted a poor man's hula hoop out of bubble wrap and streamers. Honestly, the result wasn't half bad.


As I casually inspected the wrapped item, I realize that it's actually addressed to me and that the return address is from Brooklyn, NY. Perplexed, I begin to unwrap the hoop like a kid on Christmas, laughing hysterically at the idea of someone mailing a hula hoop. Let's be honest; it's probably one of the best ideas ever.

After finally tearing away the last piece, I realize I'm not holding a $7 hula hoop you buy at the grocery store, but a very sturdy, red, white and blue sparkled well made hoop apparently from Candy Circle in Brooklyn. It had undeniable pizazz, a little soul, and a definitive Sufjan vibe. I let it go a few revolutions around my hips, taking note of its stately yet consistent movement. Needless to say, it was awesome.

Who the hoop?
The next question I needed answered was: Who sent it?

I instantly thought of Mandy as she was my initial creator in crime. I texted her: "DID U SEND ME A HOOLA HOOP???"

"Nope," she replied. "Maybe Roberto?"

Hm, maybe.

Robbe happened to call as I chewed over this possibility. I told him the scenario. He instantly said he didn't send me the hula hoop. But after a few minutes he confesses, "Actually, I know the person who did it."

How the Hula was Hooped
After Halloween, Robbe had the amazing idea of sending an e-mail and photo of my Halloween outfit to Sufjan Steven's label Asthmatic Kitty with the subject line: "My girlfriend was a hoola hooper for halloween and..."

He included language about me needing to be recognized and went as far to say that I might be more in love with Sufjan than I am with him so any recognition would be life changing (I would die).

Miraculously, someone from Asthmatic Kitty replied, thanking him for the e-mail and photo (which he circulated to the entire AK family) and also gave me generous props for my costume. Even more miraculously, Robbe received another e-mail from a different staff member asking if they could put the photo on their Flickr site (it never made it...yet). And if that wasn't miraculous enough, they contacted the woman who made Sufjan's hoola hoops in his actual BQE film and SENT ONE TO ME. These retail for $25-40.

So, needless to say, I'm in Sufjan/BQE/AK/hoola hoop heaven, and finally, my last remarks in the style of the Shleighbers: "Robbe is awesome. Asthmatic Kitty is awesome. Sufjan is awesome. Me is awesome."

The (awesome) end.

Design_Illustrasians

www.myspace.com/farewellflight

Words_Pre-Thanksgivingness

There's been quite the pre-holiday celebrating going on lately. I'm starting to wonder the likelihood of these mini celebrations overshadowing the actual pending events but I'm trying not to worry about it.

Saturday, Raych Arles cooked up the loveliest and truly yummiest pre-turkey meal which included baked chicken, stuffing, and green bean casserole. I baked (bought) some fresh, buttery biscuits (Popeyes) and brought them to the party of three which included Raych, me, and Ash Money Millionaire (Raych's friend). Seriously delicious. We exchanged names for our Christmas Secret Santa; planned our attack on Ticketmaster for David Sedaris tickets on sale in December; and watched the Puppy Channel per NPR's most recent podcast "Starting from scratch." We had this song in our head for the next hour.


I'm determined this Thanksgiving to add some flava flavvve to my family's feast by creating turkey hats for each guest. (Photos to come.)

I'm looking forward to a 3 day work week (must kick some butt to make up for the two days I'll be losing); eating until passing out; and then post-Thanksgiving with Robbey Porkchop.

Let the festivities begin.

Words_Reason #1 Why I'm Team Robbey

After purchasing a two-foot tree this past weekend at Target (which I was self-admittedly too excited about given it's not even Thanksgiving), I attempted to persuade Robbe into believing the magic of pre-Christmasing. Whether or not he really set his heart to my own tune of pre-holiday wonderment, he did an amazing job playing along--which is why I am unequivocally, positively, 100% Team Roberto. Here's how the night unfolded...

I had bought a few ornaments at a school fair a week or so ago, which was the real reason behind my premature tree purchase. I now owned two hand-sewn sheep--one black and one white--and three handmade doves with bells attached to their bellies in green, red, and blue.

"Let's decorate the Christmas tree!!!" I smiled at Robbe (with a crazy look in my eye). It might as well have been Christmas day; that's how excited I was.

After comparing my excitement to our workload Robbe gently said, "Okay but it's probably going to take three minutes." Well, he was right. But that didn't stop pre-Christmas wonder from happening.

As we slowly placed the ornaments on the tree, Robbey pulled up a fireplace app from his iPhone so we could hear the whistle and pop of the virtual fire. Then he imported Christmas songs from a music application. Pretty soon we were singing Carol of the Bells (but the Family Guy version "Ding! Fries Are Done!") while positioning and repositioning the tree; trying to find more suitable decorations around my room. We strung buttons together with twine into a long necklace that wrapped around the neck of the tree; Robbey took a couple buttons and hung them individually. I took my two sleeping masks that Raych Arles had made for me and Carebear for my birthday and used them as a a star-topping focal point. We finished the display with a few supporting present-esque items like, Farewell Flight's CD, the Waynes World soundtrack on cassette (thank you Raych Arles), a giftbox, and Fossil catalog with happy Christmas models on the front that I got as a handout at the mall.

 Robbey went to the bathroom and came back with his socks soaked from unexpected water on the floor. We draped them over my trashcan while the fireplace app crackled in the background.
We then proceeded to play the rims of our wine glasses (seriously), had a mini dance party (only me), dressed up my Spongebob slipper with some sunglasses, and had a legitimate, Friday the 13th bewitching time.

Merry Pre-Christmas everyone!

Words_Novembra

Thank you Ashleigh for being my best friend and for pushing me to write. There is not terribly a lot to say right now. There is a general sense of sadness and discouragement that is difficult to handle, to understand its taste, its realness, and that it's not subsiding...at least, not anytime soon. It reminds me of The Neverending Story and the desperation attached to Atreyu's exclamation: "Don't give into the sadness Artex!" I'm trying not to; I know this isn't how God designed us, to respond by closing yourself out to the world. I'm grateful for the hope and love that emanates from the ones who are most afflicted. There is no way to be sad. There is no excuse to be sad. But that is easier said than done.

Words_28

pretty awethum.

Words_Pre-Birthday Blues

Four days left until I am officially two years from 30.

When I was in high school, I imagined by the time I was 25 that I would be married with children. However, this is the same high schooler who, as a child, wanted to be a Kmart cashier (not like there is anything wrong with that). So it's official. The course of my future has been distorted since childhood. Awesome.

Looking back on the last ten years of my life, I think I would have done almost everything differently. First off, I would have actually done well on my SATs. Whatever it took. Paying someone off. Cheating. Whatever. I would have applied to colleges that were anywhere but here: New York, California, Florida. I would have actually done well in college instead of average. I would have sought out my professor's wisdom and immersed myself in every internship I could get my hands on for the experience. I would have fought through my laziness and maintained writing as the center of my career while simultaneously honing my photography skills. I would have given people a lot more chances. I would have taken more risks. I would have been a better caretaker of my belongings. I would have taken advantage of all my great opportunities. I would have been a lot more humble, kind, open.

I know I can't escape the stigma attached to 30. I don't want to feed into it but I'm afraid I can't help ignoring the weight of such great expectations. I would love to believe I could take on grad school or return to the journalism field or master some great accomplishment that would make entering into my thirties respectable in everyone's eyes. But maybe in two more years, things will still kind of be the same. And I think I have to prepare myself for the realization that maybe that's okay. Just like Keane sings, "everybody's changing and I don't feel the same."

Photos_The Weekend

 <3 Introducing... the Lechners

Words_You're Waysist! Series: #2 - "The Passerby-ers"

Please note that passerby comments are fairly normal. People notice you're Asian and of course care to put in their two cents. This may be executed in karate sound effects, shouting out an Asian country, or naming an Asian celebrity like Lucy Liu or Connie Chung. There's no explanation to these outbursts, they're just outbursts, with no rhyme or reason.

Passerby #1
Porkchop, Luke and I attended one of the last few O's games in September. We were walking back to my car after a pitiful loss (surprise surprise) and pitiful stadium might I add (we noted how fans cheered more for the Crab Shuffle and the ketchup, mustard and relish race than the actual game). We were following a large family in front of us and there was a group of twenty somethings next to us.

One of the twenty-somethings blurted out a strong expletive. His friend immediately reprimanded him which I thought was because of the handfuls of children walking in front of us under the age of 14. I heard the guys respond, "They can't hear me, look, she probably doesn't even know English."

Remember, these guys were next to me so I couldn't see who they were referring to; but after assessing the white family in front of me, I could only assume they were talking about me. I'm not 100% but I'm fairly certain I was the only one around that qualified as a possible subject. And for that, I would like to punch him in his face, possibly with his own penis. Just sounds more painful for some reason.

Passerby #2
Two days ago, Ray and I were downtown chatting on a bench. Earlier, we had grabbed a cup of coffee and witnessed a customer dressed in swimming trunks, construction boots, a white shirt with a cut off jean jacket, and bandana on his head. He was noticeably crazy, maybe high, possibly schizo. He was jittery, thin as a rail, made abrupt comments, and was generally unsettling to stand next to.

As we were talking, he passed by us. I felt him stare at me and then say audibly: "Konichiwa." My first reaction was to laugh because the fat white guy scenario had just happenend a few days earlier and I wondered if someone had put a target on my forehead. And then I remembered my target was that I was Asian. Awesome.
Ray stops talking because I'm laughing and then says, "Did he just say what I think he said?"
"What," I say, still laughing.
"Did he just say konichiwa?"
"Mm-hmm," I roll my eyes. "Don't worry about it."
Ray jerks his head to see the guy still talking to himself, retreating farther and farther away. Ray is paralyzed with anger and he holds his hands up to show me that he's shaking. He says something about beating the crap out of the guy and throwing him in the water; he might have also said something about blood and police, which I appreciate, but discerned that it may not be the best idea.
"Seriously," I say. "Don't worry about it. It's stupid and it's not worth it."
Or is it? Regardless, it's nice to know Ray has my back. In his own words, "Yeah, 38 years of anger coming at you is not a good thing." Amen.

Words_You're Waysist! Series: #1 - "The Fat White Guy"

The last time someone made a humorous comment about my race (Korean/Asian or if you're The Ferg - Native American) was actually yesterday courtesy of yours truly. I told Porkchop I was going to come pick him up in a rickshaw. Lame. Overdone. Stupid? Whatever.

The last time someone made a serious comment about my race (Korean/Asian), was, let's see, yesterday. And three more times before that this summer. Here are the scenarios starting from the most recent:

The Fat White Guy (Yesterday)
I'm shooting photography for a local cornhole competition (gross) as a favor for a friend; pro bono.
Total life sucking hours: 7
Perks: 1 free beer (thanks Mahaffey) and veggie burrito; use of sweet Canon 30D camera

So I'm making my rounds with an extra camera and a camera bag in tow, trying to capture as many emotional moments that cornhole is known to conjure up in a competition. Believe me, it's serious stuff, folks. I see a guy in a black shirt and visor, probably mid to late 30s with a visible beer belly, waving his hand at me. I assume he wants his photo taken as this is the same gesture I've responded to all day. He immediately shakes his head with unmistakable irritation as I poise myself to shoot. I lower my camera and walk nearer to him, hearing a hum of undecipherable mumbling. I eventually make out some words with questionable clarity: "...when you put two and two together, you're just perpetuating the stereotype."

I stop. Is he saying what I think he's saying? No, no, couldn't be. This guy doesn't even know me. He's kidding, he's got to be kidding.

"Excuse me?" I narrow my eyes at him.

He shrugs and says again, "You're perpetuating the stereotype, you know," he nods toward my camera equipment and then at me, looking almost angry; definitely serious; definitely unhappy. "I just thought you should know that."

Stunned and pissed, I say sarcastically, "Thank you SO much for letting me know," I put my hand to my chest dramatically. He shrugs again. I will myself to walk away, wishing I had the sharp ass-kicking wit of best friend Big Mouth or the actual ass-kicking fervor of yes, I'll say it, Jackie F-ing Chan. Why do all the great comebacks come to you post-incident? Honestly, it's probably a good thing I didn't retaliate (not like I could because I was shocked into speechlessness). Although, it did take EVERYTHING in me to not key his Japanese-made Acura. Ha!

Reflection #1
I guess what was most perplexing was that he chose to offend me with a comment that was completely irrelevant to the situation. All the people who stopped to talk to me asked where the photos were going to appear, logically assuming I represented the media; not that I represented an eastern tourist.

Reflection #2
The other perplexing observation was that he was really irritated. He was acting like I was offending him with my cameras and my Asianness. How do you respond to that? I just don't get it.

Reactions
So, my question to you is, how would you respond to someone who sees your cameras and your Asianness and tells you that you're perpetuating a stereotype?

Words_The Beauty of Absurdity

Tonight, over portobello mushroom burgers (topped with beautiful caramelized onions, havarti cheese, lettuce, and tomato), full glasses of sangria, and oh yes, cheez-its, Raych Arles and I got down to business.

Our mission? To script a play, or a sitcom, or a series of sorts, documenting our odd, outrageous, awkward, hilarious personal experiences, fictionalizing when necessary of course. The story will follow our main character, Whitney, a recent college graduate and her two best guy friends (names to be determined). Making frequent cameos will be Whitney's best girl friend, Sirisha, a starving blogger who once ran a Korean hair extension kiosk called Hair Wow Now (which happens to also be where she and Whitney met). The story will document Whitney's futile attempts to finding her dream job (personal assistant to B-list celebrity) and the ups and downs and twists and turns that accompany the journey.

Hooked yet? I know I am!

More to come...

Words_Late on It

Music
Okay, this song ("Time to Pretend") is sick. I know, I'm late on the boat. It's probably been featured on every show targeted to 16-year-old indie heads and will probably be a fade in fade out snippet on mtv's "the city" documenting Whitney Port's late night walk home with a svelte love interest down Fifth Ave. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do/did.

TV
Watched 4 shows tonight:
1. The Office 4/5
2. It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia 3/5
3. Community ehh/5
4. Archer 3.5/5

Food
Bought a pack of portobello mushroom burgers tonight and plan to consume over a large glass of vino tomorrow night with The Raych Arles. Jealous? Don't worry, the reaction is natural.

Texting
I attempted to send the same text message to The Ferg* tonight while driving and stationary. It was supposed to say: "Ab to break my coffee freeze." Instead, I sent: "Ab to break." What do you say to that.

Talking
I spent about 15-20 minutes listening to Porkchop explain fantasy football. Not sure how I feel about that yet.

* Web programming guru

Words_Another Day, A Little More Gay

On a recent visit to the PA, a discussion developed between Porkchop and King Rabbit on the percentage of gayness that existed in each band member (Luke and Marc) and occasionally using other musicians as means of measurement.

"Robbey is 30% gay," Rabbit said definitively. "And if Robbey's 30%, then David (band member of Lorien and Robbey's bff) is definitely 70% gay." (David is self-admittedly sensitive and is known to cry frequently while reading the endings of Harry Potter books while clothed in a Griffindor robe and holding a $75 wand by candlelight.)

"And Marc's at least 60%," Rabbit said of the chiseled, skin-tight tank-top wearing drummer, adorned with an artful collection of tattoos splashed across his chest and arms. Incidentally, Marc's girlfriend Danielle nodded in agreement.

"What's Luke?" I asked.

"I don't know but I definitely witnessed him and Steve holding each other on the couch for at least forty-five minutes," one of the two said.

"And I'm pretty sure Luke's tongue has been in a few guys' mouths," Porkchop said, which instantly resurrected a memory of meeting Luke for the first time and me capturing a photo of him planting a kiss on Robbey's unwilling cheek. That's legit, I thought.

I'm not sure how often heterosexual guys do a homosexuality check but I felt oddly fortunate to have witnessed such a conversation. I'm also comforted that out of everyone, Robbey came out the most heterosexual which is a nice thought to go to sleep with knowing your boyfriend isn't eyeing up the pool boy instead of you. At least, not yet.

Words_The Raych Arles

I can't believe I failed to mention one of the other key players in my life: The Raych Arles. (Yep, you read it right.) Writing about her doesn't do half the justice of experiencing her in person; you have to witness firsthand all the eccentric, charismatic sweetness that is Raych Arles.

During my impromptu ghetto pizza party where we--Raych Arles, friend Brittany, Stephmon and I--dined on a (serious) jug of sangria, many weeks-old pita chips, frozen guacamole, and two yummy pizzas from Whole Foods, a wonderful idea came to me: Raych Arles and I should start some writing sessions together. Perhaps just come up with a few characters with some ridiculous plot and build from there. I have no idea where it might go, which is more than okay for now. But her wit, experiences, and wildly random scenarios are too good to go undocumented.

So, I told her we had $15 worth of Starbucks money to get us some through some brainstorming sessions. And from there... only time will tell.

Look for some fresh ideas coming to you soon...

Words_Intro the Fray

A text from Porkchop at 10:23 a.m. "Into the Fray."
Translation: He and his band are recording their 2nd full album this week in TN. (12 songs in 5 days. Yikes!)

For me, this meant the start of something else I've been chewing on lately.

My life is pretty simple. I wake up; I work; I buy Dunkin Donuts coffee; I come home; sometimes I run; sometimes I eat eggs; sometimes I take naps with Carebear; and I go to bed dreaming of hot dogs (that's what she said). Simple, no?

What I've been thinking about is making more out of my time. More productivity? Of course. More profitability? yes, please. So, with my one connection, I landed an "interview" Wednesday to wait tables at a local Asian-American restaurant. I'm not really sure why I chose waiting tables to fill my time when my only memories of waiting are from college when I was a mediocre cocktail waitress who never knew what the specials were and confused bar menu items with regular menu items. Needless to say, this did not fair well with Mr. Bossy Boss.

If I dig down deep, I think the attraction to this job is me trying to redeem myself from a horrible waiting scenario where I accidentally poured beer on two lesbians having a romantic dinner together. I was freshly trained and terrified to have to ask for another beer from the Nazi bartender so I kept re-giving the same beer to the irritated lesbian. It pains me to relive the moment even now. What was I thinking?

So, without further ado, in two days, yes, "into the fray" I will go.

Words_Insomnia

Watched...

• Directed by Daniel Day-Lewis's wife
• First time I've seen a performance by Camilla Belle. Survey says? Enchanting; I'm interested in seeing her in other projects
  
• Recognized Ryan McDonald from the movie Fierce People (recommend); his performance in TBOJ&R was really quite good
• Movie bonus: songs a la Bob Dylan
• Catherine Keener: brilliant as always
  

The Daily Grind

Today's "To Do" List:

• Resurrect blog with hopes of
• a) becoming famous
• b) writing everyday
• c) averaging 2 hits a day (not counting me or my mom)
• d) historical value
• Gym (check)
• Go to bed in rockstar time (3 a.m. to never) to make up for going to bed last night at 10:30 p.m.
• Laundry (check) *
  
• Paint fingernails (check)
• Paint fingernails well (check!)
• Spend way too much time customizing blog that no one will read (check!)

* I washed an O's shirt I shamefully bought for almost $40 which proved to be the best oversight ever because the shirt (Men's fit mind you) now fits famously! Yes, this deserved the asterisk.

The Beginning

No fancy introductions, here. (Shocking, I know).
This is mere documentation of a very uneventful life; 75% uneventful; 22% mildly interesting;  3% blogworthy.

You'll need to know the following list of main characters:

Me
Kimi; hence, a la kimi.

Porkchop 
Robbey, the boyfriend; the best friend; the bassist; the cynic; also a term of endearment

Big Mouth
Mandy, bff in Boston; currently acquiring her law degree; should be in fashion; recently used the verb "jackhammering" to describe what the guy across the way was doing to his girlfriend with the windows open

Shleigh
Ashleigh, other bff; located in Raleigh, NC; social worker; says things like "bawitdaba da bang bang"

Carebear 
My Carebear that yes, I sleep with okay, and who I've had since I was a wee asian porkchop; you might also find her on Facebook

Penguiy 
More of a supporting character; was big in 2003 to entertain my nieces and nephews; exists mostly on the floor or under my bed

Stephmon
Stephanie, my sister-in-law; mid-30s; 3 kids; married to my brother; brings up thoughtful questions like: "I wonder if there's someone out there named Harry Chin?"

Other characters will inherit a blurb as they are introduced but I think those are key for now.

Remember, if you're looking for edgy, off the cuff, riveting tweety juicy information, you are in the wrong place, and frankly, I feel bad for you.

However, in my defense, there is an art to making the uneventful interesting. I plan to put that on my list of talents, interests, or expertise upon my next job application. It'll be a hit, I can see it now.