My Curriculum Vitae

Yesterday, another volunteer and I took a disabled, wheelchair-bound man out to do his grocery shopping. He needs help grocery shopping because he can hardly walk and he has trouble seeing with his eyes. Besides, he wants company, he wants people to chat to. So we took the bus to his home (he lives right next to Portobello Road, right next to the Notting Hill market!) and wheeled him to the bus stop to wait for a bus that would take us to the supermarket. I’ve never given much thought about how wheelchair-bound people get around in the city. All I have noticed is that buses are supplied with wheelchair spaces and certain underground stations have wheelchair access. After the shopping experience, I can’t believe how badly London, as a big city, is so badly equipped for people in wheelchairs. I was also appalled people in general’s attitude and behaviour towards wheelchair users.

So we were at the bus station waiting for the bus. The only way to get on the bus is for the driver to stop the bus as close to the pavement as possible, and pull out the ramp forming a bridge between the bus and the pavement for the wheelchair to be wheeled onto or off the bus. One bus comes and we try to get on, but the driver refuses to stop the bus closer to the pavement, and refuses to pull out the ramp. I stood there gaping at the bus’s behind and the driver as it drove away into the distance. What kind of fucking driver does that?? Fucking retard just drove away.

The next bus comes, and at least this driver has the moral sense to stop and pull out the ramp. There was a problem with the ramp though, it wouldn’t come out completely. At this point, about half of the bus’s passengers got off to wait for the next bus as if we were a bunch of asses delaying them severely. I guess people don’t even have a few minutes to spare for a wheelchair user to get on a half broken ramp. I felt so…frustrated and annoyed at the people who got off, I wanted to yell and shake my fists at them.

At the supermarket, while we were paying for the groceries, the disabled man used a special visa card to pay, one which wouldn’t require him to enter a pin number, because of his sight problem. The card didn’t work, and so a shop assistant took us to the customer services counter and tried the card again – still didn’t work. The disabled man requested to see their manager, because the card worked before. We waited about 10 minutes just for the damn manager to come down. He tried to swipe the card again, but still didn’t work. The manager hands the card back and says there’s nothing the supermarket can do about the card, we would need to contact the bank (at which point is already shut for the day). The disabled man started to get a little impatient and annoyed and demanded the manager to try again. Eventually, a heated argument started between the two, one demanding that the card should work, the other trying to push all the responsibilities onto the bank. As I looked around me, I saw how people passing by us all looked with a ugly look at the disabled man, as if he was some kind of plague. None of them gave the manager such a look. I guess people automatically assume any trouble must be started by a disabled person in a wheelchair. Then the manager took the card and tried it again, and it worked! Hah, his attitude completely changed, his tone softer, his face curled into an unwilling smile, and apologized to the man over and over again. Bastard manager. On our way back, about 6 buses passed by before a driver would bother pulling the ramp out for us.

When I first started volunteering, I noticed that a lot of the disabled people there were great and friendly people, but became bitter when exposed to the general public. I never understood why, and always thought it’s a shame that the public who encounter them don’t get to see the inspirational aspect of these disabled people. Now I understand why they are bitter. They are bitter to avoid being vulnerable or bullied by a world of people who shut the disabled out of their lives.

Been busy with volunteering, working and cinema/musical, restaurant, cafe visits the last 2 weeks, but I've managed to squeeze some time in to do some med-school interview preparation. One thing that interview candidates should be familiar with is medical ethics. Medical ethics may sound dead boring, but it's honestly a really exciting field that really generates some of the most heated and interesting debates that people can never ever reach a conclusion on. Even you, an individual, will not be able to stand on one single side in these topics. Euthanasia is one such topic. I know it's a topic that's already been all over the news, but I'd like to write down some of my own thoughts that I've gathered during my preparation.

So the definition of euthanasia is that person#1 intentionally kills, or permits person#2's death, for #2's benefit. Active euthanasia means that person#1 does something which results in #2's death. Passive euthanasia means that person#1 permits the death of person#2, or withholds or withdraws life-extending treatment. Currently, active euthanasia is an illegal practice in all countries and places in the world, besides the Netherlands and Belgium, and 2 states in the US (Washington and Oregon). Passive euthanasia is usually seen as more morally acceptable and is legal (at least as far as I know it's legal, and even commonly practiced in the UK). I guess the main difference between active and passive euthanasia which makes the difference between legal and illegal is that in active euthanasia someone performs an action that takes away someone else's life, whereas in passive, no one performs an action, instead a person is just left there to die.

There are lots and lots of arguments both against and for euthanasia, I've only picked a few that I think are the most significant arguments below.
Arguments against:
1. Euthanasia is meant to be an act to reduce the physical or psychological pain of an individual due to an a terminal or a deteriorating illness, who leads a life that is no longer meaningful, or with a quality of life that is no longer acceptable to the individual. However, the term 'terminal' is a much too ambiguous term - how long is terminal? Several years? A few months? And is it possible to accurately predict the life expectancy of a patient? Some patients diagnosed with a terminal disease will not die for years, and may eventually not even die of the diagnosed condition.
2. Euthanasia should be a decision carried out by the indivdual (or close relatives if the individual is unable to make a decision). However, emotional and psychological pressures could severely affect a patient's decision regarding euthanasia. Some patient might feel guilty about the emotional, dependent, and financial pressures for family members if he or she doesn't choose death. So the concern about being a burden could probably lead to a person feeling like it is a duty to die rather than choice.
3. If euthanasia were to be legalised, it could lead to a slippery slope, where laws will be expanded and more exceptions might be made etc. E.g. abortion was first legalised for the health of the baby or mother, and now in many countries, abortion is something carried out (almost) as spontaneously as buying ice-cream.
4. Killing is morally wrong and euthanasia is stating that human life is not important and there is no value to it.

Arguments for:
1. The most common argument for is that the pain the patient is experiencing is physically or psychologically unbearable, and it would be inhumane to keep them alive despite this. Also, if they are put on medication to control their pain, it could put them into a "drugged state" which is definitely not living life.
2. People have the right as free people to choose to die and not let other people's judgments and morals dictate the way we live.
3. A common misconception is that people for euthanasia is not saying that as soon as someone is diagnosed with a terminal illness, that euthanasia should be carried out. Only when a fight has been carried out, and when the fight is clearly in vain and hopeless and the agony is unberable should euthanasia be an option along with hospice or in-home hospice care. There comes a time when further treatment is not compassionate, wise or medically beneficial.
4. Some people simply say that the bottom line is that killing is just morally wrong, it should not be done.

Personally, I can't decide whether euthanasia should be legalised or not. On one hand I'm leaning more for the pro-choice people. I agree that people have the right to die, it is cruel to force someone to stay alive. It's easy for people who have no terminal or deteriorating disease to say you should stay alive and fight, but to have not been in a patient's shoes, there is no way anyone can imagine how it is to live with brain cancer or motor neurone disease (which are two of the cruelest and "inhumane" disease, in my opinion). Also, I think it's completely wrong and cowardly to say that because killing is morally wrong, euthanasia is also morally wrong. I think it is even more wrong to try to obtain a sense of morality on the expense of the agony and suffering of others.

On the other hand, I also agree with the pro-life people that euthanasia should not be legalised. If it were, lots of people would end up dying due to the fear of being a burden for family members, or die because due to greedy or incompetent doctors, or whatever other reason that doesn't really make the choice of death completely a patient's own choice. It is not simply black and white, and there are lots of grey areas which would lead to countless exceptions of the law. If the law is broadened and expanded, lots of people could end up dying completely against their own wish.

What do you guys think? Holy shit, I think this is my record of the longest post ever.

I shouldn't actually be updating my blog right now. I'm supposed to be working, or at least reading through some material for my meeting tomorrow with my mum's friend's sister, the UK doctor. I want to ask her some questions, and so I need to be updated on the UK health system and some other ethical medical issues. I'm in the computer suite of my boyfriend's university right now so that there is no music, bed, fridge or chocolate to distract me. Unfortunately, the distracting influence of my blog is a greater influence than the surrounding ambitious physics students with their fingers flying across the keyboard typing away at their 100-page lab reports.

Saturday's volunteering experience, as previously mentioned, was a good experience. One thing about working and interacting with disabled people is that it may seem very scary at first, because you don't know how to deal with their disability. I remember when I worked in a centre helping mentally disabled people in summer 2008, I was intimidated by the members when I first met each one of them. Each one had a different disability, and some of them looked and behaved so strangely, that I had no idea how to interact or treat them. How should I greet them? Should I help them take their jacket off, or will they manage? How should I talk to them?? So one thing I learned from working there was to be very, very open-minded about the disabilities people can have. I also learned that there's no reason to be intimidated really, because quite quickly, you will actually learn automatically how to interact with a certain disabled person. Trying to keep all this in mind, I arrived at the volunteering place and tried to keep an open mind.

When the members started arriving, I was introduced to everyone. I helped set up some plates and food, and we all ate together. The food we had was so typically British: sandwich, a breaded egg (I know, super weird, why in the world would you bread an egg??), and some tiny sausages. It was disgusting, tasted absolutely bland (hence why it was so British). Pudding was a bag of crisps and a choclate thingy. The only thing that tasted good was the pudding (and government wonders why British kids are so addicted to junk food).

I sat beside a blind man and it was extremely inspiring to sit beside him. He carried a radio with him and it was tuned into BBC. He would listen to it every five minutes and stay updated on the news (especially football results, heh). What was so interesting and inspiring about him was how he had learned to deal with his disability in life. The radio to him is kind of like what internet is to us - a gateway to the rest of the world and a way to stay in touch with the world. He has "normal" hobbies, and especially loves books. He accesses books by borrowing audio books and listening to them through his casette player. When we chatted, he would always keep eye contact, and I was amazed at how he knew where my eyes were. Sometimes he would lose my position and the eye contact and would then locate me again by finding my head and then re-establishing the eye contact.

I don't think the members work, so they have a lot of time on their hands. This free time has allowed them to develop incredible knowledge and skills. For instance, I sat beside this other half blind woman, and she is really, really good at Scrabble, and have even won prizes for her talent. The blind man above knows everything about music, he can name all the artists and songs that BBC played, from music of the 1950s(?) to today's contemporary pop music. It's funny how he (a middle-aged man) is far more updated on today's pop music than I am ("Who's that??" "Justin Timberlake!").

Today I have another volunteering shift. We're all gonig to a pub to have a drink. Hopefully it'll be inspiring and fun!

I had a big cardboard box full of books, food, clothes and a pillow, which I had to carry from my old room to the tube station and then from another tube station to my boyfriend's place. It wasn't that the box was too heavy, it was more that the box was too big for my arms to carry comfortably. I had to walk very slowly, one step at a time, so it probably gave the illusion to people that the box was dead weight. I believe I was also grimacing with my face, because the box was cutting cuts into my fingers, which was much worse than the actual weight issue.

A few times, I believe there were a few people who were about to ask me whether I needed help, they nearly opened their mouth as if to talk as they walked past me. But I guess they stopped themselves when they realised they would actually have to make an effort and commit to first in carrying my box and then to walking with it to whereever my home was. I guess it's understandable, because if the roles were reversed and I saw someone carrying a box too heavy for them, I too would probably have walked by even though I'd liked to have helped, and just compensated my passive helpfulness with a compassionate look.

When I was a few hundred metres from home, my fingers were suffering numerous cuts and my left knee was starting to bruise from the constant bumping of the box's edge on it, and I was starting to feel like it would be impossible to take another step, an angel (a lovely man) stopped and asked me whether I needed any help. I thanked him and gave him the widest smile I could muster with my facial muscles, and told him I was nearly home, so it wouldn't be necessary. Our encounter made me smile all the way home and forget about the throbbing pain as I thought about how wrong I have been to label and stereotype everyone as lazy citizens that are afraid to get involved and committed to helping someone. There are great, decent individuals out there, whose principles in life is still to be as kind and helpful as possible to everyone.

Ever since I was a chubby kid, I've always wanted to volunteer. My vision was to work in an organisation like Doctors Without Borders, travel the world while saving lives. I've been told it's quite an unrealistic and childish vision, there's no way I'd be able to live on my volunteering.

Yesterday I attended an interview for a volunteer position as a "social befriender." Bascially it means I'd attend group activities for housebound people (elderly, disabled etc.), or visit them in their homes, or take them out shopping a few times a month, i.e. generally helping them, interacting with them to make their lives easier and a little bit more enjoyable and socialable as many of these people do not have any family around to take care of them or keep them company.

When I arrived at my interview spot, I was surprised to be greeted by a wheelchair-bound woman. I had no idea the woman who administers the organisation was disabled. As we talked, I learned that she not only administers one organisation, but 4 entire organisations by herself! She organises all the group activities, assigns the volunteers to the housebound people, recruits volunteers, helps the housebound people herself, helps anyone who would need her help in any way. She does all this, devotes all her time to this, despite the fact that she is diagnosed with cerebral palsy and is wheelchair-bound herself. Many of the people she's helped have told her that they wouldn't want to live if it were not for her help, she's given their lives meaning again. She's adminstered the organisations for 30ish years now, which means she's witnessed numerous elder people that she's helped pass away, yet she's still finds the strength to continue.

I probably didn't do too well with the interview, because all I could do was gape like a monkey at her, as I was utterly amazed by her strength, determination, and kindness. Her work has been recognised nationally, as she's been awarded some MBE award by the queen. Miraculously, despite my not so successful interview-turned-gaping-session, she said she would be delighted to have me volunteer. I was so flattered when she said she could tell that I would be a great fit as a volunteer! Being inspired by her life and story, I couldn't stop smiling and day-dreaming the rest of the day at the thought that maybe my vision isn't too unrealistic and childish after all.

Since that night, I started coming down to London almost every weekend in order to spend time with B. When Friday approached, I’d pack some clothes, run to the coach station (I was always running late for my coach for some reason), and wriggle around in my seat annoying the person next to me because I couldn’t wait to get to London! This is a really interesting fact that I observed during that period: every Friday I went down to London, it would be absolutely brilliantly sunny. Every Sunday when I returned from London, it would start raining. It's true! London is totally my destiny location!

I can’t remember everything we did during those weekends, but usually we’d go to museums, watch a movie, hang out in a park, or go for a walk. He’s not really the type of person who’d normally do those kind of things, but he’d still do something he didn’t want to if it made me happy. It must have been a pain to hang out with me at times. I remember one Saturday, it was so freaking sunny, and I felt like I needed to walk in that boiling sun. I’m a walking fanatic (there must be a walking fanatic gene, because my dad is too), I can walk for miles and miles. I suggested we walk from B’s university halls (in South Kensington) to Camden Town. B agreed very, very reluctantly to my proposal, and I bounced outside excitedly to begin our journey. It took us a few hours to get to Camden, then we walked around in Camden Market another few hours, by which time B was complaining that he was tired and was going to drop into bed the moment we got back home. Poor thing. I didn’t even dare suggest that we walk back home.

During these weekends, I gradually started getting to know him better. The more time I spent with him, the more I realised how different we are. Our backgrounds, lives, outlooks on life, future plans, personalities, humour, everything differed. I constantly asked myself whether I could really see us together. Because we were never friends prior to dating, and because we didn’t have much in common (especially not interest-wise, as he absolutely despises Harry Potter, grr!), it was hard to find topics to talk about at first. I felt that whenever we did talk about something, we’d only manage to squeeze out a few sentences before we’d run out of things to say, we never managed to hold a discussion. I also generally disliked having lunch or dinner alone with him, because that’s when we have to sit face to face and have all the time in the world to talk. Sometimes it got really quiet that the only sound audible was the clinging of our cutlery on plates, I hated those awkward moments. Despite my doubts about us, I kept on coming down to London every weekend, as there was nothing stopping me to come. I was also afraid to just give up on us, what if we could potentially become something meaningful and special?

Gradually, the Easter holidays approached, and B had to fly back to Hong Kong due to some very bad family issues, and he was gone for three weeks.

To be continued…!

On Monday, when I departed from Stockholm to London, I expected the entire coming week to be busy, but pretty dead and quiet. My plan was to prepare for med-school interviews, look for volunteer stuff and start putting my room up for rent. I thought everyday would be pretty much the same. That has definitely not been the case.

I arrived home on Monday night after, as mentioned previously, waiting ages for my suitcase and filling in a lost baggage form. I was starving by the time I got home, and could not be bothered to cook anything, not to mention I had no ingredients to cook with anyway. Thank God for McDonald's, Big Mac saved my stomach that night. While chewing on my fries and burger, I posted an ad on Gumtree to rent out my room. About 10 minutes later, a guy called me and told me he was interested in the room and arranged to view it Tuesday evening.

I was told to stay at home on Tuesday by the airport baggage staff because they said my suitcase would be delivered to me at some point that day. I also got three more calls from people who wanted to come and see the room that evening. At about midday, two workers came in to replace the boiler in our flat. The entire day comprised of lots of waiting and calling, waiting for my suitcase, for the viewers, for the boiler to be finished so that I can get some water and finally flush the toilet again, calling the baggage staff when they failed to turn up by the evening, calling volunteer centres, etc.etc. At about nine that evening, the boiler was finally installed, and all the viewers had come and seen my room. They all gave me the same answer: "I'll let you know if I'm interested when I've seen a few more rooms". By the end of the night, one of the guys said he wanted to take the room. Woohoo, I ticked one thing off my to-do-list!

He came in yesterday, and we discussed the rent and bills and deposit and everything. He's moving in on Monday, which means I'm moving out Monday morning. The remaining day was spent waiting for the baggage staff and being angry at the airline. When I tried to call the customer service number, I got directed to voicemail to leave my contact details, and they'd ring me up. Ok, so I left three freaking messages, and no one rang me up. Great service. KLM sucks, guys, do not fly with KLM. It feels good to publicly annouce that. This afternoon, I'm going to go to the airport myself and demand I get my suitcase and compensation for making me wait at home for two days and my travel expenses. I need my suitcase, because once I have my suitcase, I can start packing my things for Monday.

As much as I'm looking forward to moving in with my boyfriend, I'm trying to not have any expectations of how it will be. Last time, I enjoyed it, it was by far one of the happiest time of my life, if not the happiest. However, there're no guarantees that it will be the same this time around. Maybe we'll just not be able to get along as well as last time. Maybe I'll be kicked out of the flat when we fight and end up roaming the streets..!

I'm back to one of the most awesome places on earth: London! My trip back was less awesome though. I transferred in Amsterdam again, and for the first time in my life, when I went to claim my baggage in Heathrow, my lovely purple suitcase never arrived on that black-belt-spinning-around-thing. So I had to stand in line for half and hour to talk to one of those lost baggage staff, and filled in a form for another half an hour. It turns out my poor suitcase was left behind in Amsterdam's freaking airport. The staff must be pretty colourblind in Amsterdam to not have noticed a purple coloured suitcase among all the other black-coloured ones. At least I'm grateful it wasn't lost, because I don't think I would ever recover from the loss of all my clothes! They're supposed to deliever it to my flat tomorrow, by which time the food (which was supposed to be my dinner tonight) in the suitcase will have molded and probably stink. Great.

Ok, enough whining. I had a great time back in Sweden! I was only there for 9ish days, and even though my dad wasn't home for Christmas and New Year's, it was ok. I had forgotten how my sister and I usually clash and disagree about pretty much everything and how we have fights about the things we disagree on (siblingish fights, not actual fist/cat fights). So it was nice to have some fights with her again, it really brought back the familiar feeling of home. So did our other activities: playing poker, watching Chinese TV-series, going shopping, and making dumplings. I tried to be appreciative and make an effort to spend each day with my mum and sister well, because I only had 9 days (well much less actually as I was not at home for about 4 of those), which is why I had such a great time back home.

I am glad to be back in London, because I love this place. I'm not looking forward to spending most of this week by myself though, as most of my flatmates and friends are still not back yet. Besides, I miss my boyfriend so freaking much. I've never missed anyone like this before, like I can't be completely happy without his presence even though I do things that make me happy, like meeting up with a friend or watching a funny film. So I hope this week will pass like a swish of wind and let next week come in the blink of an eye!

There are lots of things I need to get done that will keep me busy, which will get me through this week. I need to prepare for my med-school interviews, do interviews for volunteer work in hospitals/care homes etc., put my room in this flat up for rent (I'm moving in with my boyfriend), do more med-school applications for various universities in Europe among lots of other annoying things. Gah. However, I will spend tonight just watching TV series and eating Marabou chocolate (I need to stock up on energy to start my busy week!). Now back to my chocolate, bye!

After that "Happy Valentine's Day" text from B, we continued to stay in touch through texts and phone calls the next few weeks. Receiving a text from him were the highs of my days. During this text/phone call period, I started liking him more and more, and hoped that he felt the same about me. He asked me when I would come to London to visit MF the next time. I said I didn't know because I didn't like sleeping over at MF's room as it got so crowded with her roommate there too, which was half true. I secretly wanted him to tell me that I could sleepover at his place, because he has a spare couch in his room. The lovely merciful God must have heard my prayer, because B mentioned that he has a couch in his room, and if I wanted to, he didn't mind me sleeping on the couch, ehehe.

So after playing a bit doubtful of his suggestion (as I didn't want to appear too desperate!), I agreed to go to London the coming weekend and I was to sleep on his couch. Inside, I was so damn happy, I could have done a funky victorious dance had my au pair family not been at the spot to question my sanity! So that Friday I packed some things and went off to London. On my way there while I was sitting on the coach, I suddenly got cold feet and started doubting my ability to make judgments. Shit, what the hell was I thinking? What am I doing? I'm going to spend 2 nights with a guy I hardly know!

I got to London, and we spent that Friday night having dinner with some of his coursemates. They of course couldn't help but tease us about spending the night together, which we tried our best to ignore and act innocent! We watched a film in his room later that night, just him and me, and he only had 1 chair, so we had to share it. It felt warm and lovely when our legs brushed against each other's.

Next morning, we went to the National Portrait Museum, or whatever it's called, and looked at people's portraits. The portraits were...interesting, but the more interesting event that day was that night when we were just about to go to sleep and he asked me if I wanted to sleep in his bed. Hah, I froze to make sure I heard right, and then got up and crept into his bed. As we continued to talk, he wrapped his arms around me, and put a hand on my lower back. I was babbling about something then, and he interrupted me and asked me if I was nervous. I said yeah, how did you know? He said I started talking twice as fast when he put his hand on my back. When he asked me if he could kiss me, I probably talked x100 as fast, as that made me thoroughly nervous. I said ok even though I was scared to death as he approached my mouth with his lips, because I didn't know how to kiss! That night I slept in his arms and it was lovely. It was all I wanted and needed as waves of happiness and warmth washed through me.

To be continued...!

Today is 01-01-2010. Holy shit.

I spent New Year's Eve at my friend's sleepover. At half eleven I wrapped myself in at least 5 layers of clothing of various thicknesses against the freezing -15 night, and we ran to the lakeside to not miss the midnight fireworks. However, it was a pity that we somehow managed to not realise the clock had struck midnight until 00:03. We had the most perfect and beautiful view for fireworks I've ever seen. We stood on a hill top right along a lake, so we had the view of fireworks on our side of the lake (and groups of drunk people as additional entertainment) while the fireworks on the other side of the lake acted as background decoration.

When the colourful flowers were all exploding in the air above my head and the sound of tinnitus ringing in my ear, I felt streams of excitement shoot through me. A new year, a new decade, with new opportunities, adventures, and experiences. This was the first time in ages that I've welcomed the next year with open arms, excitement and anticipation. There've been too many years in the past when I've been able to basically predict how my next year will be, with it turning out that I'm not such a bad seer, i.e. my predictions have all been pretty accurate. But this year, as I tried to picture the coming year in my head, I couldn't picture it. I love the fact that I have no freaking clue how my year is going to look like, I love this unpredictableness (what's the noun? I definitely made that one up). There are so many questions running through my mind that I couldn't answer: will I finally get into med-school? How will my med-school interviews go? How much longer will I stay in London? What else will happen to me in London? Will I move in with my boyfriend? Will we last the entire year? Or two, three, four years? Will I fall completely in love with him? Will my sister move to America? Will my parents move to China?

I've realised there are two ways to look at New Year. I've always looked at it as a new start even though I've not always been positive about it, usually just neutral. A few days ago, I met up with a few friends in town, and we were discussing what our plans were during New Year's Eve. One of them (the slightly more pessimistic one) who had no solid plans argued that it's quite stupid to celebrate a new year, because it's a day just like any other day if you think about it. She does have a point, it is just another day in our lives as usual. It's not like we're going to feel any significant changes in the range of 24 hours between the 31st and the 1st. We've sort of made up the concept of a "new" year, while it's really just a linear continuation of our days. Right now, I have to argue that I prefer to think of the new year as a a new start. Maybe it's because I've been feeling happy and optimistic lately, but I think the notion of a "new start" is a good thought. It mentally prepares us for another few hundred days of our lives, and gives us determination and motivation to initiate or improve areas of our lives.

Guys, let's make this year a good one not only for ourselves, but also for each other. Let's look out for each other, help and support each other. Have a good year!