It was democratic for sure, which is why it lasted for about three hours. An Annual General Meeting with women - you bet it's not going to be over anytime soon. Every voice was given a chance to speak - those who had views threw it out to the rest of the table - without fear that there would be repercussions to speaking their minds. Something we surely lack in this country - encouraging people to speak. God forbid we give them a chance to be educated. Education really is key.
As the meeting began, I was excited; pumped at the possibilities that could arise, at the things I would hear, at the notes that I would take (surreptitiously at the back of course). We started out with minutes from the last meeting, then proceeded to finances. Yea, not my favourite thing in the world. My mind started to wander. I had to force myself to concentrate. Transportation fees? Honorarium hire? Fund-raising? (Hey, we can throw parties in the name of feminism right?).
That's when I realized though - it is the nitty-gritty details, the rentals and the materials to make posters, to print manuals and books...that make up the big picture. The mindless administrative work, the filing of documents, the recording. When the cause is right though, these things become secondary. I started to pay attention and learnt a few things - finance...easy-peasy right? And if all else fails, I can learn from the Google Gods.
Whatever it takes - learning to raise money, learning to balance a checkbook (or at least knowing who to hire), I think you can do anything when you heart is burning with all-consuming passion.
Yes I really am that naive, I reckon if you took a peek in my head, you'd hear a conversation that goes like this:
Mil (the Realist): So Mil, when you build a community centre, like you always wanted, where kids can play, learn to dance, play chess and all those fun kid-stuff things, how are you going to raise money for it?
Mil (me): Umm...I guess I'll ask the pretty rainbow fairies to slid down their colourful highways and loan me some money for my pretty community centre. And then I'll get my goblin homies to paint it up all purple.
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Defeat Before Confrontation
It really bugs me when I experience negativity. At the risk of sounding like a New Age freak, it throws my whole being off balance and I find I need to readjust myself in case I fall off my precarious pole of naive beliefs. Am I naive for advocating positivity? Maybe. Do you laugh at people like that? Possibly.
But it irks me when people give up before even trying. It really just defeats the whole point of life. Also, what does it mean when you say you've failed? Doesn't it just mean that you gave up a few tries ago?
Just because you are uncomfortable experiencing rejection, disappointment, let-downs and No's doesn't mean that you can avoid it for the rest of your life. It is part of life. The point is that you tried. I think I've become fairly thick-skinned after working in the servicing industry and having to deal with angry white folks who didn't get their take-away on time. An extremely stressful period over the weekend when I had first started out my second waitressing job at Perth. It was maybe only the second weekend rush that I had experienced, having been thrown at the cashier station after little practice. I have a slow learning curve (no shock there, I am generally a slow person, yes I am the last person eating at almost every family meal) thus I usually am upfront about how long it might take me to learn something. But once I do, there is almost no problem.
So, there I was standing there like a fool, my mouth gaping at the stream of customers that invaded our small restaurant after 7p.m. And I panicked badly. My hands were shaking, my heart was beating fast and my throat slightly raw from screaming into the kitchen to call my co-worker. It wasn't the best of times. But if I hadn't been put on the war-zone, I never would have learnt how to be fast and how to respond to customers. Barely a year passed before I decided to set my sights on something bigger - and managed to, thanks to the informal but handy training I got from this small restaurant.
Persevere in rough times, and you'll reap rewards later. Oh and screw the naysayers.
But it irks me when people give up before even trying. It really just defeats the whole point of life. Also, what does it mean when you say you've failed? Doesn't it just mean that you gave up a few tries ago?
Just because you are uncomfortable experiencing rejection, disappointment, let-downs and No's doesn't mean that you can avoid it for the rest of your life. It is part of life. The point is that you tried. I think I've become fairly thick-skinned after working in the servicing industry and having to deal with angry white folks who didn't get their take-away on time. An extremely stressful period over the weekend when I had first started out my second waitressing job at Perth. It was maybe only the second weekend rush that I had experienced, having been thrown at the cashier station after little practice. I have a slow learning curve (no shock there, I am generally a slow person, yes I am the last person eating at almost every family meal) thus I usually am upfront about how long it might take me to learn something. But once I do, there is almost no problem.
So, there I was standing there like a fool, my mouth gaping at the stream of customers that invaded our small restaurant after 7p.m. And I panicked badly. My hands were shaking, my heart was beating fast and my throat slightly raw from screaming into the kitchen to call my co-worker. It wasn't the best of times. But if I hadn't been put on the war-zone, I never would have learnt how to be fast and how to respond to customers. Barely a year passed before I decided to set my sights on something bigger - and managed to, thanks to the informal but handy training I got from this small restaurant.
Persevere in rough times, and you'll reap rewards later. Oh and screw the naysayers.
Saturday, January 07, 2012
Limbo
Sixth day. I don't wake up craving it anymore. My mind is still a little confused, having been imprinted with the effects of nicotine. I don't think minds forget so easily, but I do know that I can adapt - most human beings can actually. It's a hungover from evolutionary times; to be able to adapt to almost any environment, to any routine, with any people. Why be afraid of change right?
I know I'm still being watched like a hawk though. Perhaps, I am expected to relapse because statistics say that smokers usually need between 2-4 attempts to finally quit for good. Relapses can happen anytime, especially with the trigger of bad news. Another fact I learnt is that smokers who were dependent on the cigarette during times of stress, frustration or anger, will find it harder to stop as there is no alternate way to manage stress for the moment. I was one of these smokers. I would crave a cigarette whenever Mom's nagging got the better of me, or when I needed a break from writing at work. The workplace is usually a source of stress, especially with deadlines and catty colleagues. But it doesn't have to be this way. As cheesy as this sounds, I just need a way to manage stress; one that doesn't include popping a plum tablet in my mouth even.
How do you manage stress, aside from the obvious breathing techniques? I remember as a teenager, back then before I tried cigarettes, my grandmother said something awful to me. She meant well, I think but I got upset (stupid swinging teenage hormones, I swear!) and ran from the dinner table in typical dramatic flair. I went to my room and sat in the corner. Finally, I reached over to push play on my CD player and Switchfoot's Dare you to Move came on. It was a song about moving along even after getting beaten down. Grandma might not have beaten me, but the music soothed me, like ice-cold lemonade to a parched throat.
I'm remembering what I was like when I was young - before cigarettes (maybe cigarettes helped the growing up process - I thought I was so cool, smoking along with my peers in college). I used to enjoy food, used to run around and be active a lot more, used music as an escape and I didn't need to get intoxicated to have a good time.
I always said I never wanted to grow up. It's time I regressed and found out why I eventually ended up selling out.
I know I'm still being watched like a hawk though. Perhaps, I am expected to relapse because statistics say that smokers usually need between 2-4 attempts to finally quit for good. Relapses can happen anytime, especially with the trigger of bad news. Another fact I learnt is that smokers who were dependent on the cigarette during times of stress, frustration or anger, will find it harder to stop as there is no alternate way to manage stress for the moment. I was one of these smokers. I would crave a cigarette whenever Mom's nagging got the better of me, or when I needed a break from writing at work. The workplace is usually a source of stress, especially with deadlines and catty colleagues. But it doesn't have to be this way. As cheesy as this sounds, I just need a way to manage stress; one that doesn't include popping a plum tablet in my mouth even.
How do you manage stress, aside from the obvious breathing techniques? I remember as a teenager, back then before I tried cigarettes, my grandmother said something awful to me. She meant well, I think but I got upset (stupid swinging teenage hormones, I swear!) and ran from the dinner table in typical dramatic flair. I went to my room and sat in the corner. Finally, I reached over to push play on my CD player and Switchfoot's Dare you to Move came on. It was a song about moving along even after getting beaten down. Grandma might not have beaten me, but the music soothed me, like ice-cold lemonade to a parched throat.
I'm remembering what I was like when I was young - before cigarettes (maybe cigarettes helped the growing up process - I thought I was so cool, smoking along with my peers in college). I used to enjoy food, used to run around and be active a lot more, used music as an escape and I didn't need to get intoxicated to have a good time.
I always said I never wanted to grow up. It's time I regressed and found out why I eventually ended up selling out.
Tuesday, January 03, 2012
My New Life As a Non-Smoker
So I finally took the plunge and decided to quit cigarettes. My reasons for this involved many things, of which include mortality, my Dad's mortality, the people I love, my poor lungs and hey, why not nurture my singing voice?
Today was the first day and it was a good challenge. More often than not, I felt like a fighter, putting my nose down at cigarettes and proud to be able to say NO! Other times got me thinking wistfully of these sticks, distant from a lost friend. I wrote a goodbye letter last night, and in it I put out the fact that cigarettes were like a friend to me, especially in my darkest hours. There was some sort of emotional attachment to a overrated box of cancer twigs. But I persevered, much to the surprise of many friends perhaps. My persona for the past six years had somehow gelded with cigarettes; many people associate me with Salems; one almost always in my hand, especially after meals or between work. Cigarettes were part of my routine, how I decided where to eat and and a constant companion especially on long car drives. In fact, my car had never known me as a non-smoker, having witnessed the many puffs I would take as I coast down a Malaysian highway, or crawl through a Malaysian jam. For 6 years, I held hands with cigarettes and now it is all over.
The bigger part of me is extremely happy, and has already planned many things to replace the habit (think lollipops). A small teeny tiny part of me is sad, because it feels like an era gone by. But even an era will eventually fade. And I have to remember that the good has to outweigh the bad and perhaps my trusted ciggies are more bad than good. Most definitely, I should say.
It's 2012 and the time has come to make some overhauls. The only thing I'm bringing with me from 2011 is the phrase "Why not?" Let's rock this joint.
Today was the first day and it was a good challenge. More often than not, I felt like a fighter, putting my nose down at cigarettes and proud to be able to say NO! Other times got me thinking wistfully of these sticks, distant from a lost friend. I wrote a goodbye letter last night, and in it I put out the fact that cigarettes were like a friend to me, especially in my darkest hours. There was some sort of emotional attachment to a overrated box of cancer twigs. But I persevered, much to the surprise of many friends perhaps. My persona for the past six years had somehow gelded with cigarettes; many people associate me with Salems; one almost always in my hand, especially after meals or between work. Cigarettes were part of my routine, how I decided where to eat and and a constant companion especially on long car drives. In fact, my car had never known me as a non-smoker, having witnessed the many puffs I would take as I coast down a Malaysian highway, or crawl through a Malaysian jam. For 6 years, I held hands with cigarettes and now it is all over.
The bigger part of me is extremely happy, and has already planned many things to replace the habit (think lollipops). A small teeny tiny part of me is sad, because it feels like an era gone by. But even an era will eventually fade. And I have to remember that the good has to outweigh the bad and perhaps my trusted ciggies are more bad than good. Most definitely, I should say.
It's 2012 and the time has come to make some overhauls. The only thing I'm bringing with me from 2011 is the phrase "Why not?" Let's rock this joint.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Goddamn
It is 6.54p.m and I'm the last one in the office. It is one of those days where I realize that I don't feel productive and am not living my full potential. And then I wonder what my potentials are and where or what I'm supposed to be. I think back to the last time I was productive; which I pin down to the day I wrote an article about an art gallery that I really enjoyed visiting. That was quite awhile ago, last month or maybe before that to be perfectly honest.
And I shut my eyes and think really hard about the last time I exalted in the feeling of being useful and it always comes back to life in Perth. I remember the sweet feeling or researching and writing and scribbling ideas and debating and reading and cursing and having someone tell me that I got it. Of being around people who could carry many conversations about politics, the world, journalism, the war on terror etc.
It is a lonely life, the life of a writer. There are many times when I have felt like an antisocial outcast because society expects one to socialize. I am a dreamer, very much an idealistic one that at this moment, is struggling to be realistic, at the same time not wanting to lose the wanderer in me.
I am feeling lost, and I definitely don't have a sense of direction. I also ponder about ending up alone since I seem to prefer solitude, but that is a problem that is far away. At the moment, I just long for that feeling again. I sometimes wonder if it was a fluke but I couldn't have been fluking for a whole year now, could I? I'm trying to remember what drove me and for the life of me, I can't right now. Was it a last-ditch desperate attempt to get good grades in my final year? Was it the realization that I could do better? Was it the lingering fear that my grandmother was watching me? (haha - maybe not).
Or could it have been that I really enjoyed what I was doing? That was definitely a HUGE part of it. The problem with me is that I'm unsure how to motivate myself when I have no interest whatsoever in what I'm working on. I'm quite a child in that way.
I'm essentially, at the moment, stuck in a comfort zone so deep, so wide that I don't know the first thing about climbing my way out. I'm guessing my choice is not going to be easy. But I am still at the crossroad I was, 10 months ago.
Goddamn everything.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
2010: Looking Back
I spent the whole day rifling through my old posts and clearing up junk. I feel zen now, if that is an adjective. It should be, if it isn't. Last year, I went through some huge changes - with my life, my outlook on it and my habits. I learnt the value of hard work and of finishing things. 2010 was my last year as a university student at Murdoch. I am now a graduate, and I wouldn't be had I not gone through said changes. I'm not sure exactly, what brought it on. Maybe it was Gran, glaring down at me from wherever she was (I can imagine her gallivanting in PD or Chennai...trust her). I wonder if change always has to come from pain, but it does make sense.
In December 2009, Mima (beloved grandmother to me) passed away, peacefully, while sound asleep. I guess she didn't like the nurses we hired for her. It was painful for us, but it was nice to see her float away from her human shackles. There was a collective gasp, then a sigh of relief in our house. She had suffered enough.
In January 2010, I developed a weird case of shopaholicism. I went to One Utama weekly, hungrily going into shops and buying pretty new things. I wonder now if it was my own way of dealing with sadness. I also wonder if Gran possessed me for awhile, pissed off that Dad gave me a credit card and neglected to give her one.
In February 2010, I went back to Perth, plumper, darker and shiny with my new trinkets. I made new friends and took Children's Theatre. It was the beginning of the end. I organized a graduation party and was diagnosed with a Urinary Tract Infection.
In March 2010, I attended Vivek's graduation and got his Mom to hate me. 9 months later, I found out that she was just starting to like me. Oh, the irony. I auditioned for the part of the pirate in CT and got the role of the singing, dancing duck. I'll never live it down.
In April 2010, I went to IKEA and bought a wok for AUD$9.95. It grew a thin layer of rust after 5 months. I stopped asking the other half to come with me to movies. We began to lead separate lives, meeting back at the dinner table.
In May 2010, I performed my role as a dancing duck (they cut out the singing, damn you, short attention span!)in front of giggling children. I passed up all my assignments and fell back onto my chair, giddy with relief and exhilaration. I wanted to do it all over again. I booked my ticket for Melbourne and cried when I handed over my debit card to the flight agent. She was nice about it and gave me her name card to shut me up.
In June 2010, I signed on for a winter unit which specialized on comedy in plays. I studied Wilde, Fo and Stoppard. I watched countless movies and ironed clothes. I moved into my own room, without a room mate. I watched her move out and went to put up my posters on the ugly white walls. We went to see Me and Orson Welles two months later. I quit my job at the Asian cafe and got hired at an upscale Malaysian restaurant. I was on my way to selling out.
In July 2010, I flew to Melbourne and promptly fell in love with it. I spent a night at Syar's place and made butter chicken in her kitchen. Then I spent the rest of the nights in a blurry haze of alcohol and raucousness. I looked up at the city lights and saw the possibilities. I came back to Perth and immediately wanted to fly back. I made friends with good people in Melbourne and none will be forgotten. I slaved over my Winter Unit and came out with an appreciation for comedians. I picked up more shifts at work and made up for all the money I spent in Melbourne.
In August 2010, I found out that I had to take five units if I wanted to graduate by this year. I took a deep breath and enrolled for three heavy units and two light ones; one a first year unit in Photography, the other a course on the transition from the university to the workplace. Everyone whom I told this too asked me how I would manage to sleep at night. I replied, "Soundly." My Italian boss and his wife from Malaysia sold their business to an Australian man. They told him not to change anything. He didn't listen. Two of my flatmates got involved in a car accident. They're better than ever now.
In September 2010, I bought my ticket for the annual Village Ball and blew AUD$200 getting ready for it. I'm not sure if it was worth it, but the jewellery from Diva was pretty. I reasoned that I could use the dress for clubbing. I grew to appreciate photography; urban landscape in particular. I always liked them big buildings. I attended Shashank's graduation and went to eat pork ribs in Tony Roma's after the ceremony. We ended up in an English pub later, one of the last places left in Perth where you could smoke in the alfresco area. They were overruling this a week from that day. My new boss caught on to the fact that I didn't have a Responsible Service for Alcohol certificate (RSA) and told me that I had to get one or I wouldn't get a shift. I paid $90 for a woman to tell me that alcohol in Western Australia needs to be monitored. I read Eat, Pray, Love and enjoyed it.
In October 2010, I attended the Village Ball and couldn't stomach the cheap wine. I came home sober and with my hair undone. I booked my ticket for Malaysia and told my parents I was coming home two days later than the actual date. I interviewed an inspiring man who started up his own copywriting business after he got disillusioned with mainstream media. I started to take a real interest in politics, the environment, the nature of business news and journalism. I watched the Eat, Pray, Love movie and was disappointed. I got lost in McEwan, Lahiri and Kundera. I got disgusted at the world after researching for my politics essay.
In November 2010, I went to hell and came back. I passed up eight assignments in two weeks. I saw the licking flames and roasted in a slow circle. The feeling I got from finishing it all was incredible. I got crazily drunk and said bye to Perth. I didn't know that I wasn't coming back. Dad got diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma seven days after I passed up my last undergraduate assignment. I got called for an interview at Wisma UOA for the position of an 'information analyst'. I didn't take the job.
In December 2010, Vivek and I decided that we couldn't continue our relationship as I would be staying back in KL as opposed to flying back to Perth in January, as originally planned. We broke it off two days before his 23rd birthday. He left for Bali and I stayed over at Payal's house. We played Taboo. I got my results back on the 10th of December - I had graduated. Payal and I went out for drinks the next night and neither of us remembers much. It was a good night. I went for an interview with Smart Investor and met the editor for half an hour at the Aman Suria office. While shopping at Jaya 33, I was reminded of grocery shopping in Perth as a couple. Somewhere around the third week, Mom and the brother fell sick, and I followed suit. I celebrated the New Year's with Payal and Nim. We were rudely shoved and groped in the crowd, but it was a good night.
2010 taught me plenty and showed me how to have a good time. I came to realize that all you really need to survive this thing called Life is yourself and your precious friends. If you stop looking for happiness in people and things, and start making life happen, the happiness will come by itself. It is something that needs to be worked at continuously, much like having a relationship. I advocate having a relationship with yourself and not jumping the gun, like many of us have done in the past. I forgot how nice it is to sit at home all day in pajamas and read my way through a whole book. I forgot how cool it is to see movies back to back (again, in my pajamas). Clean your room weekly and open the windows. Smell the rain and don’t ever think that you are alone.
With pain, comes gain. This I promise you.
In December 2009, Mima (beloved grandmother to me) passed away, peacefully, while sound asleep. I guess she didn't like the nurses we hired for her. It was painful for us, but it was nice to see her float away from her human shackles. There was a collective gasp, then a sigh of relief in our house. She had suffered enough.
In January 2010, I developed a weird case of shopaholicism. I went to One Utama weekly, hungrily going into shops and buying pretty new things. I wonder now if it was my own way of dealing with sadness. I also wonder if Gran possessed me for awhile, pissed off that Dad gave me a credit card and neglected to give her one.
In February 2010, I went back to Perth, plumper, darker and shiny with my new trinkets. I made new friends and took Children's Theatre. It was the beginning of the end. I organized a graduation party and was diagnosed with a Urinary Tract Infection.
In March 2010, I attended Vivek's graduation and got his Mom to hate me. 9 months later, I found out that she was just starting to like me. Oh, the irony. I auditioned for the part of the pirate in CT and got the role of the singing, dancing duck. I'll never live it down.
In April 2010, I went to IKEA and bought a wok for AUD$9.95. It grew a thin layer of rust after 5 months. I stopped asking the other half to come with me to movies. We began to lead separate lives, meeting back at the dinner table.
In May 2010, I performed my role as a dancing duck (they cut out the singing, damn you, short attention span!)in front of giggling children. I passed up all my assignments and fell back onto my chair, giddy with relief and exhilaration. I wanted to do it all over again. I booked my ticket for Melbourne and cried when I handed over my debit card to the flight agent. She was nice about it and gave me her name card to shut me up.
In June 2010, I signed on for a winter unit which specialized on comedy in plays. I studied Wilde, Fo and Stoppard. I watched countless movies and ironed clothes. I moved into my own room, without a room mate. I watched her move out and went to put up my posters on the ugly white walls. We went to see Me and Orson Welles two months later. I quit my job at the Asian cafe and got hired at an upscale Malaysian restaurant. I was on my way to selling out.
In July 2010, I flew to Melbourne and promptly fell in love with it. I spent a night at Syar's place and made butter chicken in her kitchen. Then I spent the rest of the nights in a blurry haze of alcohol and raucousness. I looked up at the city lights and saw the possibilities. I came back to Perth and immediately wanted to fly back. I made friends with good people in Melbourne and none will be forgotten. I slaved over my Winter Unit and came out with an appreciation for comedians. I picked up more shifts at work and made up for all the money I spent in Melbourne.
In August 2010, I found out that I had to take five units if I wanted to graduate by this year. I took a deep breath and enrolled for three heavy units and two light ones; one a first year unit in Photography, the other a course on the transition from the university to the workplace. Everyone whom I told this too asked me how I would manage to sleep at night. I replied, "Soundly." My Italian boss and his wife from Malaysia sold their business to an Australian man. They told him not to change anything. He didn't listen. Two of my flatmates got involved in a car accident. They're better than ever now.
In September 2010, I bought my ticket for the annual Village Ball and blew AUD$200 getting ready for it. I'm not sure if it was worth it, but the jewellery from Diva was pretty. I reasoned that I could use the dress for clubbing. I grew to appreciate photography; urban landscape in particular. I always liked them big buildings. I attended Shashank's graduation and went to eat pork ribs in Tony Roma's after the ceremony. We ended up in an English pub later, one of the last places left in Perth where you could smoke in the alfresco area. They were overruling this a week from that day. My new boss caught on to the fact that I didn't have a Responsible Service for Alcohol certificate (RSA) and told me that I had to get one or I wouldn't get a shift. I paid $90 for a woman to tell me that alcohol in Western Australia needs to be monitored. I read Eat, Pray, Love and enjoyed it.
In October 2010, I attended the Village Ball and couldn't stomach the cheap wine. I came home sober and with my hair undone. I booked my ticket for Malaysia and told my parents I was coming home two days later than the actual date. I interviewed an inspiring man who started up his own copywriting business after he got disillusioned with mainstream media. I started to take a real interest in politics, the environment, the nature of business news and journalism. I watched the Eat, Pray, Love movie and was disappointed. I got lost in McEwan, Lahiri and Kundera. I got disgusted at the world after researching for my politics essay.
In November 2010, I went to hell and came back. I passed up eight assignments in two weeks. I saw the licking flames and roasted in a slow circle. The feeling I got from finishing it all was incredible. I got crazily drunk and said bye to Perth. I didn't know that I wasn't coming back. Dad got diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma seven days after I passed up my last undergraduate assignment. I got called for an interview at Wisma UOA for the position of an 'information analyst'. I didn't take the job.
In December 2010, Vivek and I decided that we couldn't continue our relationship as I would be staying back in KL as opposed to flying back to Perth in January, as originally planned. We broke it off two days before his 23rd birthday. He left for Bali and I stayed over at Payal's house. We played Taboo. I got my results back on the 10th of December - I had graduated. Payal and I went out for drinks the next night and neither of us remembers much. It was a good night. I went for an interview with Smart Investor and met the editor for half an hour at the Aman Suria office. While shopping at Jaya 33, I was reminded of grocery shopping in Perth as a couple. Somewhere around the third week, Mom and the brother fell sick, and I followed suit. I celebrated the New Year's with Payal and Nim. We were rudely shoved and groped in the crowd, but it was a good night.
2010 taught me plenty and showed me how to have a good time. I came to realize that all you really need to survive this thing called Life is yourself and your precious friends. If you stop looking for happiness in people and things, and start making life happen, the happiness will come by itself. It is something that needs to be worked at continuously, much like having a relationship. I advocate having a relationship with yourself and not jumping the gun, like many of us have done in the past. I forgot how nice it is to sit at home all day in pajamas and read my way through a whole book. I forgot how cool it is to see movies back to back (again, in my pajamas). Clean your room weekly and open the windows. Smell the rain and don’t ever think that you are alone.
With pain, comes gain. This I promise you.
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