blk: (citd)
No particularly context for this except musing on the past.

There is very little that I would say I have an actual phobia for. The one thing that I feel I've been able to definitively identify, and what gives me my mental basis for using the term "phobia" is drowning. It's very minor - it took a few decades for me to define it as such, and it doesn't really affect much of anything I do except for where I take a lot of care watching videos where drowning is a real or hyped risk involved, because I can very quickly observe panic symptoms start setting in if I don't distract myself.

I have no idea what the "source" might be, although I have emotional memories that seem to reinforce it going back pretty far. Who knows whether one of them created it, or they just all helped to bring what already existed out into the light.

- There was a swimming lesson when I was very young where we were supposed to learn how to float on our backs, and I was having a lot of trouble. But I was told not to paddle, so I repeatedly tried to float by lying straight and still, and every time, I would slowly sink, sometimes not catching myself until my face went under and water got up my nose. Over a decade later I realized that how high humans float in water is directly related to their percentage of body fat, which I've always had very little of. I'm still frustrated that several swim teachers just told me I was moving too much instead of advising I try to take in more air first.

- There was a swimming test at summer camp where I had to tread water for some period of time wearing clothing, then take off a pair of jeans and inflate them to create a makeshift floatation device. Taking off wet jeans is really hard, and I got frustrated with trying to do that and also stay above water, and eventually, panicky. I remember ending the test sobbing and hyperventilating and feeling bitter than nobody else seemed to care how upset I was, except for giving me a paper bag to breathe into.

- There were, of course, multiple instances where I'm swimming with other kids or in waves and just as I come up to take a fresh breath, I get knocked back down (accidentally or intentionally) and either strain my lungs or swallow some water and have to cough it out. I still remember how furious I got, which was always shrugged off because the other kid couldn't understand why I was so upset.

- Most recently was when I took a scuba diving lesson, in my mid-20s. Because of my small-framed face, the smallest size adult mask they had available mostly, but not completely, sealed against my face. So when we went into deeper ocean water for the last lesson, as soon as I was down underwater for a few breaths, my mask would start to leak, cutting off vision and disorienting me. I ended up spending all of my mental energy on the sheer effort of not panicking while several feet underwater, and after several attempts, gave it up. I got my certification and never once used it.


It's of interest to note that I wasn't injured during any of these, just panicked. The times in water that I've actually been injured don't stand out anywhere near as much. The time I went waterskiing as a kid and (somehow) ended up with a long bloody gash on my shin? Eh. The many summers I cut my toes on barnacles or shells on the ocean floor or a jellyfish stung me? Painful, but not horrible. The time I fell on a sharp rock while whitewater rafting and spent the next two months with a bum knee relearning how to walk? Annoying, thrilling (when we were actually afloat) but not scary at all. (Although a year later when I had a runaway kayak carry me a short ways down the river while leaving me mostly unharmed, that was yet another panic moment).

Also of interest in that I'm not scared of water in general, of getting wet, of submerging myself, of swimming, or of anything that would make this phobia into a problem instead of just a minor detail. I'm fine with situations where I feel more or less in control. I'm a pretty good swimmer. I spent my Florida summers at swim parks and beaches. I can exhale partway and sit at the bottom of the pool and totally enjoy the peace and quiet. I'm starting to be OK with kayaking on calm waters.

In thinking about this as a phobia, I'm realizing that this is just a feature of me that I can accept. OK, I have strong reactions in particular circumstances where I feel endangered and if other people don't understand that, it's their failing, not mine. I know what a panic attack feels like, I know that I can stay fairly calm and coherent through one, and that the majority of things don't do that to me. I have sympathy for past me, and am sorry she wasn't comforted the way she needed, and I promise to myself that I'll do my best to take care of me in the future.
blk: (bike)
Today I rode Pedal Pittsburgh's city tour. My goal was to ride the 100km (62mi) route for the first time ever. My second goal was to finish in time to hang out and get some beer at the finish line festival. My tertiary goal was to fail competently, with a smart bail plan. I succeeded at one of these!

I got up godawful early and started the route just after 7am with two friends who had promised to go slowly with me. The first 20 miles went without much incident, except that we dropped one of our three on the second big hill, because they weren't able to keep moving. Unfortunately, those first 20 miles took a good three hours, which put us on track to finish in... 9 hours. That length of a trip was not really in the plans, so we opted to skip the third big hill climb, and at 35 miles we ran back into our third (who had also skipped a big section) as well as a fourth who had been busy volunteering earlier. We set out to finish the 62, but within about 2 miles we collectively decided to switch over to the 25 mile route, which would save us about 10 miles on the rest of the route. Another ~7 miles and a hill later, it was getting late and we were all super tired and everything hurt, so we decided to ditch the rest of the planned route and just head straight to the finish line.

Total distance ended up being just about 48 miles. Alas, there was no free beer this year, and if I'm going to pay for beer, it has to be something that I actually like, and this wasn't it. But I failed at my goal very well! I didn't disappoint myself, I didn't try to push myself too hard, I didn't injure myself, I didn't get grumpy or cry, I didn't end up having to hop on a bus and take myself home, and I'm pretty satisfied at all of that. 48 miles is definitely further than I've ever biked in a day, and it included several thousand feet of climbing. I think I probably could do the full 62 if I was prepared in different ways: if I'd planned for a full day of riding (instead of a half day), if the weather wasn't quite so awfully hot and humid (it was above 90 by noon), and maybe a few other ifs. So maybe it can be a goal for next year.

I did a lot of things right on this one, though, including remembering to eat and drink regularly, even though I wasn't hungry, which is a very odd feeling for me, because I am constantly trying to stay in the habit of only eating when hungry (because overeating makes me feel physically not good). But I don't get hungry when I exercise, and while I can easily go for a 60 minute workout without any interim sustenance, that doesn't work for multi-hour workouts. I packed good snacks and made use of the rest stops and kept my energy up until the end. I wore clothes that were comfy, and sunscreened sufficiently such that the only places where I got burned were a little bit on the backs of my hands, because I forgot my gloves and didn't realize until I was about to start (I got a few weird blotchy red spots on my thighs, but I don't think those are sunburn).

Eventually I came home, had a wonderful shower, ate all the things, and got a beer. Now fall over.
blk: (axial)
I've been having this mood lately where I want to bury myself in blankets and hide. The idea of leaving the house just sounds like a horrible, uncomfortable plan, even though I know intellectually that some things I leave the house for are worthwhile and I would enjoy myself once I was there. But doing the dance to convince myself every time is exhausting, and it's not working for anything that involves advance planning or overnight stays.

Things that I'm pretty sure are contributing to this meh include:
1. Winter. In fact, I can look back to previous years of LJing and see similar sentiments that tell me these are pretty normal feelings for this stage of winter.
2. The house. We planned to get some house windows replaced, and so moved a bunch of furniture and put things in disarray in preparation, and then the job got postponed for a couple weeks until Not In A Snowstorm time. Which means there is still disarray everywhere, and that along with the rest of the house which is usually in disarray means my areas of order are few and far between, and there's only so much cleaning the kitchen I can stand. I feel unsettled and jarred and like there's nowhere to relax here.

Despite all the meh, I'm not actually feeling down, which I'm glad for, and I'm pretty sure this is contributed to by:
1. Sun and warmth. We've had TWO days in the last week with a lot of sun, which is doing a decent job of melting the sheets of solid ice across many of the sidewalks around here. And I have successfully built up my collection a bunch of warm fuzzy things to wear so I'm never actually cold, despite the stupid low temps. And electric mattress pads and a ton of bed blankets makes sleeping really nice.
2. Exercise. I'm not biking or running due to the stupid ice, but I'm managing to carve out some minimal exercise time, and I'm pretty sure that's doing a lot towards keeping me stable, if not optimal.

I know of things that could help even more, unfortunately most of them involve time. In a week, the current house project should be done and I can get back to putting things in order. In another week to month I may find some days without frozen stuff on the ground and can get in some running. In another two months I will get significantly more sunlight.

In the meantime, I'm going to keep trying to write, make some time to read, try to plan or work on some smaller projects I want to do, drink lots of tea, and be patient.
blk: (sunset)
I spent the last week in Seattle, visiting the sibling, chasing the niblings, and catching brief moments of time with a few friends. The bulk of the time was spent doing a long weekend camping trip at Spencer Spit State Park, a nice little camping area on Lopez Island, a few small landmasses away from the US-CA border.

Our group of 5 families was split with 10 adults and 10 kids (all under age 10), which made for a nice bit of well-ordered chaos in the mornings and early evenings. So while the rest of the families engaged in local sightseeing or nappage, I opted to spend the afternoons on my own doing some reading and walking and generally enjoying my time with nothing I needed to be doing except relaxing. There's really something to be said for having nothing to do. There is always so much to do in life - being home with nothing to do is simply not a state that exists for me. So as much as I love being home, I usually have to go elsewhere to really relax.

And in that state of nothing, with no internet and no pressing chores and nobody needs filling up my headspace and plenty of time, there's a lot of peace. Somewhere in the weekend I found a perfect moment, and I briefly held it, and I was aware of myself holding it. In that moment I could see myself and I knew how I fit in the world. I could see how to be a better parent, a better partner, a better person. I breathed in and out and was filled with love and contentment. The moment passed, as they all do, but it faded slowly, and in the ghost that remained I once again realized the necessity of vacations or retreats, of mediation, of mindfulness, of considered action, deliberate exercise, and time for my self. Things that help me find that moment of awareness on a regular basis and reminds me of what to strive for.

I'm back home again now, after a exhaustingly long day of travel and another of adjusting back to the usual busy flow, but I'm still holding onto a tiny thread in my head so I don't lose the feeling of rightness just yet, and writing this down so I remember to go look for it again when I do.
blk: (faceinhands)
Ponderance for the week:

The rule for ambivalence (as distinct from questions/decisions/problems) is that it is never resolved by thought, only by action, and that the action chosen is irrelevant.


-- out of context quote from The Last Psychiatrist, Who's Afraid of Lil' Wayne
blk: (eyes)
The other evening after climbing I stopped in the grocery store on the way home for a few things, and while in the bread aisle, a couple stopped me to say hi. They recognized me a) from the gym where we all climbed, and b) from my picture on my braiding website, which they had just been browsing recently.

It caught me totally by surprise (albeit pleasantly so), and we chatted braids for a few minutes before parting ways.

Now, it's pretty unusual that random people (not going to cons) would know me from my braiding site before greeting me in person, but not that unusual that someone would greet me because they'd seen me elsewhere. But it takes me by surprise every single time, because it never happens to me. That is, it is unusual for me to recognize someone from one casual context of my life when I see them in a different context, and I cannot once think of a time when I have recognized someone in person after having only seen them in a photo.

[Just to clarify, the sort of situation I'm thinking of involves a person I do not know well and likely have not formally met, although I may have seen or even spoken to them before, and I am seeing them in a new context that I did not expect to see them in.]

I do not consider myself to have face-blindness, although I sometimes wonder if it's more that I've trained myself out of it. I try to look carefully at people and pick out features - the shape of their smile; the slant of their bone or muscle structure; the way they carry themselves; their speech patterns; or the style of their hair (yes, this last one is less than reliable and does have its own obvious problems). I explicitly look at their face if we're having a conversation or just spend time looking (not staring) at people around me when I'm in a group. Looking at people from a variety of angles is helpful, as many of the specific details that I use to identify them are only visible from a select perspective. Which is, I believe, a big part of my problem with photographs. Pictures show a single, static perspective. If the picture is a posed one, then it shows features which may not be regularly present in person (an intentional smile, for example). If I know I am supposed to match a picture with a person (someone I am meeting from online, for example), I can generally do so quite easily, but there is still the moment of confluence, where I have two distinct, separate people-images in my head - the one from the picture and the one sitting in front of me - and I need to explicitly tell my brain "these two person-entries can be merged into one."

Interestingly, I don't usually have this problem with screen characters (although a cast of older, dark-haired, white men is usually confusing for a while), and I think that's because part of the production's entire purpose is to create a recognizeable character. They will style the hair uniquely and/or consistently, for example, or otherwise enhance the subtle identifying marks that I tend to work by and make sure they are present in every scene.

Not recognizing people (in or out of context) seems to be not at all an uncommon thing, as I've heard many of my acquaintances speak of similar (and many who have it far worse, even to actual disability level). I've grown used to it in myself, so I'm not really bothered when I notice it, and have gotten used to apologizing briefly for not remembering a name, a context, a conversation, or even that I've seen them before. But it must not be an uncommon thing to HAVE this recognition skill, either, because of the countless number of times someone HAS recognized me from somewhere else (and I rarely recognize them back).

What is your experience? Do you get people recognizing you more often than you do in return, or vice versa? What are some mental methods you use to commit people to memory?
blk: (computer)
In the last year, I feel that I've had a lessening of two things compared to prior years: seeing other people and writing. By "seeing other people" I mean going out with friends for drinks, or going on dates, or going to meetups, or having a couple people over for dinner. And writing, well, most of my writing I've ever done has been here, in LJ, but my frequency has gone down.

Read more... )

Whatever the reasons, these are changes that I would like to reverse. I want to see people more, and get more quality time with a variety of friends. I want to write here more, open up more of my thoughts to whoever is left to read, or just to get the words out of my head. To do these things, I have to work harder to adjust the other parts of my life - find more quality time on my own so I'm not as easily overwhelmed, and learn how to be less distracted so my focus comes easier. If you're around and want to help, you could invite me out for lunch, come over for some games, or just remind me occasionally that you're interested in my company.

I suppose these are a couple of my goals for the year.
blk: (blades)
I recently came across this series of ads from Nike, from several years ago, featuring women's body parts: butt, knees, shoulders, legs, hips, and thighs.

In general, I like the ads. Not because I identify with them, because really, I don't have the kind of butt or thighs or anything those pictures are talking about, except for the bruised knees. It doesn't make me want to buy Nike, but it does make me remember what one of my goals is when I workout, when I run, when I play hard, when I exhaust myself, and motivates me to work harder. Those are pictures of bodies that I admire, that I seek to imitate.

But by gum, I've got the tomboy knees, and I'm damn proud of those knees.

I have scars on my knees that tell stories. I have the wrinkled, stitched over cut from white water rafting. I have a faint, discolored circle of a scar where I tripped on a curb while running. I finished my run with blood running down my leg and my sock soaked with red, because it didn't hurt while I was moving. I have a notch just below, on my shin from where I fell on the corner of a bed, while wrestling with a lover.

I also have regular transient bruises, mostly from climbing. I used to be able to tell how frequently or recently I had gone rock climbing, by the number and color of the bruises over my knees. Multiple mottled marks meant I'd been working hard lately. Faded green spots meant it was about time to head back to the gym. Clean, pink knees meant I was long overdue.

Today while climbing I hit a rock on the way up and scraped up my leg. It was a minor cut, almost not even enough to draw blood. It stung slightly, but somehow also made me feel a little better, like See? I'm not afraid to exert myself. Thankfully, I don't have a mother that worries about me in that way, and even more thankfully, I have an awesome partner who loves me and my bruised knees. These scars and discolorations, I wear and show off with pride.

As long as I keep on wholeheartedly earning those badges.
blk: (ow)
I have a problem. Or maybe it's a quirk.

It's taken me a bit of time to straighten out what's going on, but I think I've figured it out. It goes something like this:

Read more... )

How do you change inappropriate things you do when you don't realize when you do them?
blk: (tree)
While hiking in a wet, muddy park last weekend, [livejournal.com profile] xuth decided to take a short detour over a steep, leafy hill, and the rest of us followed, albeit awkwardly. One of our companions behind me remarked on how unconcerned Xuth seemed over the possibility of me slipping and falling, to which I beamed and responded, "Yeah, it's great!

I've been pondering this aspect of me ever since, and on how to better put into words what I like so much about this. It pleases me greatly that Xuth, indeed, does not go "easy" on me or try to be proactive on helping me out when we're doing physically active things. When we're hiking on a rough trail, he doesn't slow down when I'm lagging, or take less challenging paths (although he will stop and wait at the top of the hill). When I was learning stilts, he didn't hover watchfully by my side after I'd gotten my basic balance down. When we're doing yardwork or labor around the house, he doesn't take heavy things away from me. If I decide to go climb random things, he doesn't stand around waiting to give me a hand down or cringe at every time I slip (but he will spot me when I'm bouldering a rock wall).

Rereading that paragraph, it doesn't seem like this should be something out of the ordinary, and yet, there's something about his interaction with me that is just slightly different from most other people I've interacted with in my life, and I'm not entirely sure I can exactly put my finger on it. I despise being treated like I'm fragile just because I'm a smallish person. I dislike presumptive "help," as if the person helping believes they know my strength, balance, or agility better than I do. I disdain extreme amounts of worry from someone else over the possibility of minor injuries to me.

There are plenty of things that don't fall under this. I appreciate help when it is asked for, when it's offered but not assumed, when it's needed, when I am doing something I don't want to do, and when it supports me instead of supersedes me. Xuth is generally good at these things, which means I feel very safe around him, both because I know I can trust him to respond if I need him, and because I know he trusts me to look out for myself.

I'm also not sure - maybe I'm overreacting or overly sensitive to friends jumping in to lend a hand or make it easier for me when I'm doing something challenging, for whatever reason. Like, isn't it supposed to be the height of romance and chivalry to deftly lift the girl out of the way of the flame spurt in the fire swamp, or gracefully lift her by her hips down from a step so she doesn't have to jump? Maybe Xuth is really just an insensitive lout and I haven't figured it out yet. All I know now is that I've found a dynamic I'm really comfortable and happy with, one that lets me challenge and exert myself while feeling like a useful part of a team.
blk: (faceinhands)
Lately, I've been feeling like I'm the only woman I know who a) is under 40, b) has had children, and c) definitely does not want more children.
blk: (summer)
The great thing about knowing so many awesome people is that I'm simply amazed by the levels of awesomeness that surround me on a regular basis, and it gives me a lot of encouragement to be more awesome, myself.

The occasionally bad thing about knowing so many awesome people is that I frequently find myself comparing me to other people, and coming up short. I'm not nearly as good of a cook, or a gardiner, or a home-repair person, or a computer geek, or a parent, or a musician, or a volleyball player, or a social networker, or a writer, or an activist, or really, anything else as certain of my friends. In fact, for every single thing I do, I can think of someone I know (if only acquaintance-wise) who does it (imo) better.

That is, however, for each single thing. But, self, I say, I do a lot of stuff! Comparing single things is just silly. What do I do? I parent, and I maintain a house, and I have a geeky job, and I keep a garden, and I home-prep maybe 90% of my household's meals, and I do some sports, and I socialize, and I occasionally do other stuff, and I do all of it by myself. The people I envy at the volleyball courts or the climbing wall? Mostly don't have children. Or the people with awesome houses I drool over? Maybe don't have the job I do. Or the socialites eat out more often or the parents don't do the same physical hobbies. And most of them have a partner to share a lot of that with.

When I look at it that way, I can see myself in better persepective. I am, in my own little way, just as awesome as the people around me, but in different ways.

Sometimes I lament (quietly) about the things I don't do and the stuff I don't have, and it's good to remind myself that everything I have and do is what I've chosen. If I really wanted to improve a skillset, or become something better, or accomplish bigger things, I think that the primary things stopping me is, well, me. What it takes for me to get something is really and fully wanting it mindfully, not just "oh, I wish," but "yes, I want this specific realistic thing in my life enough to do all the tremendous amount of hard physical and mental work that is required for it, which includes this, and accept all the downfalls that come with it, which may be these." And then patience.

When I look at things like that, it's almost scary. What do I really want? Exactly how much do I want it? As happy as I am now, what can I do to improve on it?

Yesterday had the most daylight of the year. Perhaps now is a good time to be looking for more of a bigger picture in my life.
blk: (crystal ball)
Five years ago today, I moved out of my house, out of my family, and started a new chapter of my life.

Some of my friends have called me strong for that. I look at myself five years ago and I don't see or feel strength in it at all. I see more desperation and stubbornness. The nice thing about the bottom is that there is only one direction to go.

Five years ago, I could not imagine where I would be today. I've always been mediocre at long-term planning, even without the haze of mental chaos shadowing me.

Today, my life is overflowing with awesomeness. I love the person I have grown into being. I love my family, my community, and my home. I also love the unrest and itch I have to keep moving, to improve things, to be more than what I am now, and to try to give back some of what I have taken.
blk: (axial)
This solstice marks my one year anniversary of my marking the seasons for myself.

In the past few years, and in words recounted in more detail in another post, my personal spiritual ponderings have led me away from god and towards science. But I still like ritual and observance, so in combining religion and science to focus more intently on the things that are important to me, I've started noting the natural seasonal quarters and cross-quarters of the year (not the holidays, but the dates), and letting myself see what they can show me about myself.

This year has been an interesting one. I bought and moved into my very own (awesome) house (AND unpacked the last of my boxes a few weeks ago). I turned 30. I kept a garden and grew some of my own food. I learned how to cook a whole bunch of stuff. I grew.

All in all, I'd say it was a pretty good start.

I didn't stay up on the longest night - I played hard in the evening and then slept hard and deeply over the night, with trust and comfort in both my companion and the journey of the Earth, and then woke up in the morning to a day that was bright and sunny and full of peace for me. A very good change, considering the anxiety I've had over the past recent while.

It is dark (and cold and windy), but with my tea and blankets and cat and house - soon to be full of family - it feels more cozy than overbearing, at least right now. I'm looking forward to this coming week of holiday and vacation with happy optimism and anticipation for the first time in several years.

I know I still have a lot in my life that needs work. My house, my inbox, my head, and my heart all have chaotic parts that need time to be dusted off and organized every so often, and it's not always fun or easy. But I have only to look back to see how far I have come, and get up hope for continuing the journey. The earth won't wait for me; I've got to keep on moving with it, and keep on watching for the sun.

Greetings of the season to you.
blk: (spring)
It's time once again for the turning of seasons. The sun will be traveling the middle path, giving us equal amounts of light and dark. And, of course, bringing the season where people go outside, things come alive, and the world wakes up. And in some places, it means sales and spring cleaning.

I'm taking a more theoretical approach to spring cleaning, by looking at a few little internal things I want to spruce up a little. I'm describing them here to help me understand my purpose, and to remind me of the goals I hope to achieve.

a chin in a hand and a thoughtful pose )

Mm, baking soda and vinegar for the brain. I'm getting up way too early for a flight tomorrow, so off to bed for me.
blk: (cygnus)
It is the longest night, and tomorrow begins a new chapter of my life.

The vast majority of my possessions are in bags, ready to be taken on my trip with me, in boxes, ready to be moved into my new house on return, or strewn about in disorderly piles, still needing to be wrapped up and ready for transport. Living amongst such a disarray of waiting and expectation - not only in my house - has not been good for me.

darkness, darkness )
blk: (me_baby)
One of the central traits of human personality is that of Introversion and Extroversion. This trait covers a general preference for being in the external world or the internal world. A good workable definition is that an extrovert gains energy from interacting with people, while an introvert gains energy from being alone. Like most other personality traits, it runs on a sliding scale, not in binary.

There are many unfair or incorrect assumptions and generalizations made about this trait. A couple that come to my mind are:
  • extroverts have good social skills | introverts have poor social skills.
  • extroverts always enjoy being social | introverts don't enjoy socializing.
lingering on this topic )
blk: (natalie)
Note to self: When you start noticing that you are feeling ravenously hungry, even if it is not yet an expected mealtime, do not sit around wasting time for another hour+ before going to get food. Flying mostly randomly into a fantasy homicidal rage, while admittedly less malefic than going on a real one, is not a normal or desirable state of being for the [livejournal.com profile] blk.
blk: (bodyart)
Bodyart :)

This pic comes from a New Year's Eve party in Boston from Dec, 2002. During the day, I'd been busy braiding, but at night I turned into a regular old party-goer. Until [livejournal.com profile] plymouth brought out some paint pens and offered to draw of me. Workplace space was in short supply, so we made do with what was there (oh, poor me). A few people contributed, I think. The finished product was a mishmash of doodles. It lasted a few days, I think.


I have this fascination for using my body for art. There's something about using the human body not as the endpoint of the art itself, but as a canvas for something more. It both takes away from the humanity of the person, and also puts a living, breathing personality and form into the art, depending on how you perceive it. There are a variety of things I've done which fit into this (and a great many more I haven't), but being casually drawn on is one of the simplest ones.

One of the first memories I have of bodypaint of any sort being anything more than a way to pass boredom and get strange looks was when I got a glimpse of a picture in a magazine at a friend's house, sometime around my early teen years. I think the magazine was Playboy, although I have no idea who the model was. She was, however, completely covered, head to toe, in gold paint (likely liquid latex). And naked (or close, at least. I honestly don't actually remember). Her hair, face, hands, skin, everything, was one solid sheet of gold. She was like a living statue, and all I could think about was "ye gods, that's friggin' gorgeous."

If anybody would like to dig up that picture for me and send it along, I'd greatly appreciate it.

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blk: (Default)
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