Sonny's Blues.

The length of this story did not bother me at all. The action keeps it moving, James Baldwin's writing style is appealing, and the story itself is interesting.

The author tends to create mental pictures to help explain various things that he writes about. I liked his description of the "great block of ice." I see this huge ice cube resting within his body. It is there because of the news he has just learned. It is uncomfortable. Its effect lasts beyond its existence; "it never got less." It melting causes it to affect his entire body. And it is, obviously, not a positive affect. It's overwhelming, unshakable, gnawing, and numbing. Three pages over this ice is mentioned again. It's identified as dread here. He knows he has to accept this news, but he doesn't want to. He knows Sonny may make the same mistakes again, but he doesn't want to admit it. Dread has a way of bothering us so entirely that it helps keep us from acknowledging the truth. It leads us to consciously numb ourselves to reality. And this is what he, the narrator, has done for so long.

Two very similar phrases are used in this story: "I watched him through the smoke," and, "watching me through the smoke." In both cases I saw this, the smoking and the smoke it produces, as forming some sort of a barrier between the two men who are talking. It gives the something to do, something they both maybe enjoy or do habitually. Maybe it makes them feel more comfortable.

"It was what I was thinking and so it seemed to me he had no right to say it."
     I think this goes back to the ice. This man doesn't want to believe, to accept, that he can't really do much to help his brother. He won't say--admit--it, so why should someone else be able to?

"He was smiling all over his face."
     I could not help but smile when I read this! I just love the line. So much goes into a smile, a genuine one. Eyes, eyebrows, cheeks, nose, teeth, lips, mouth, muscles, thoughts.

"The big windows fool no one, they aren't big enough to make space out of no space."
     This helps me imagine how small this home is in the "housing project" where Sonny's brother's family lives. It comes across as a reality that almost wants to be softened by its simplicity. Facing realities like this adds to the fact that is must be hard to live in places like this, where even a sunny, open window can't make the mood better, can't create the illusion of space, can't make one feel better about the room in which he sits. I can't help but think that "he" probably wishes he could afford a bigger space in a different community.

One theme that seems to run throughout this story is the conflict between older and younger brothers. Sonny wants his brother to understand him, but he can't. His brother wants to protect him, but he can't. They have a hard time seeing how the other sees. They want to, but there are chasms that keep them from relating to each other. Sonny has dreams of being a musician that his brother cannot see as practical because of his own view of reality.

However, nearer the end, he comes to better understand where Sonny is coming from. He sees how much his life is linked to the piano, his ability to play it and bring it to life itself. Hearing him bring out the songs, the blues, and truly listening helped him to realize this was Sonny's avenue to freedom. Here we come to see that the title has a double meaning. Sonny really does play blues music, but he also plays music about the blues, the sad and difficult times in life that we have to get through. His way of getting through them is through the blues.

A Grief Observed [2].

I went to the Lakeview, Roselawn and Tiger Flowers cemetery complex for this fieldtrip, and I stayed there for at least 40 minutes.

This fieldtrip was more of an experience than I thought it'd be! Professor Corrigan is always right . . . =) It was kind of weird thinking about all the people in that grave yard who died so many years ago. Something that struck me was that a majority of these people probably have no remaining family members who actually knew them . . . yet their graves still stand. Something about them is left even though memories of them probably are not.
- - -

After reading A Grief Observed, I know I am definitely going to keep this one. It fights through the process of grief. They are hopeful and insightful for not only those experiencing grief but also those who have yet to experience it. The book has given me an understanding of how to care for or better relate to someone going through the process. It also has many truths that can be taken out of the context of grief and applied to many areas of life.

"Does grief finally subside into boredom tinged by faint nausea?"
     Lewis is experiencing guilt in a different way now. It involves both the mental and the physical. I love that he asks the question, though, rather than being sure of it. He's still working through the process of grieving.

"What grounds has it given me for doubting all that I believe?"
     I love the thought process on pages 36 and 37. Lewis puts asides his feelings for a moment and logically thinks through trust and faith. He realizes this one grief is so poignant, so shaking, to him because it affected him personally. He sees death around him and he trusts. But when it hits him, he's shaken. It shouldn't happen, but it does. He distinguishes between imagination and trust, possibility and occurrence. He's progressing and going somewhere with his thoughts despite his hurt.

"Grief is like a bomber circling round and dropping its bombs each time the circle brings it overhead . . ."
     This image stood out to me because I can just imagine a war scene where huge blows keep coming, coming, coming. Out of nowhere. When you least expect them. Exploding to affect more than where they hit. The pangs that hit the heart and mind of a grieving person are like this.


"You can't see anything properly while your eyes are blurred with tears."
     It's as if after he wipes away his tears for long enough that his memories of H become beautiful stories. I find myself so happy for their previous life together, loving the love they had and the moments they lived. I forgot I was reading "a grief" for a few moments. The description he gives of her as his wife is beautiful. He almost experiences her memory in a more real way after he started to accept that her physical presence will be gone.    


"Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape."
     This is another moving picture of grief. I actually briefly searched "valley" online to get a better picture in my mind. There are many different types of valleys. These types provide general distinctions (death, poverty, war, attack, hopelessness . . .), but each valley is unique within its kind. Many valleys lie between mountains, obstructions on either side. There is often a stream of water running in the valley, providing forward motion and leading to open waters. Each stream moves at its own pace, unique to its placement and the conditions of the valley. The valley opens you up to new sights, sounds, and feelings. You don't know what's around the bend, but you're moving forward. There is a beginning, but there isn't an end in itself. It, grief, becomes less defined and less confined as it finds the opening at the end of is natural path.


"Thus up from the garden to the Gardener, from the sword to the Smith. To the life-giving Life and the Beauty that makes beautiful."
     This is one of the lessons that can relate to many different aspects of life. In context, Lewis was talking about thanking God for His wife, praising Him in order to cultivate joy in his life. We should practice this principle consistently, daily allowing ourselves to be reminded of the Gardener who creates nature, the Smith who uses us as Swords for His purpose, the loving Father to His children with whom He gives us to share relationship, love, and life.

"If you're approaching Him not as the goal but as a road, not as the end but as a means, you're not really approaching Him at all."
     Once again, this quote in context relates to moving on from grief. But this struck me and seems so important for my spiritual walk with God, good times or bad. He's not the path to our desired emotions. HE is our answer. Solely, singly, fully. In every area of life.

[painting]

"A fire consumes before them

And behind them a flame burns

The land is like the Garden of Eden before them

But a desolate wilderness behind them"

A Grief Observed.

I truly enjoyed these first two chapters of A Grief Observed. I have never experienced the death of a close loved one, but I think C. S. Lewis writes beautifully the thoughts, emotions, turmoils, frustrations, and disparities of a mourning heart. It has given me insight into what the experience might be like. It is written in an honest and raw way. Lewis even ponders the questions of why God lets these types of things happen. It was at this point that this book reminded me of Professor Corrigan's essay that deals with questions. Those questions were about spiritual hope, facing darkness, and experiencing both. The essay reminded us that since we know Jesus is with us, we need to frame our questions correctly. We should rather be asking where God is amidst the darkness. Similarly, Lewis is trying to understand what questions to ask and what conclusions to draw. He knows God is there, but he is afraid he won't like what He finds.

"When you are happy, so happy that you have no sense of needing Him, so happy that you are tempted to feel His claims upon you as an interruption, if you remember yourself and turn to Him with gratitude and praise, you will be--or so it feels--welcomed with open arms."
     How many times have we, have I, experienced this? It is all too easy to feel God and His blessings when things are so good that we fail to communicate with Him, spend enough time with Him, or acknowledge Him other than to quickly thank Him.

"Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything."
     This gives me the picture of vastness. Whether sunny or cloudy, blue or grey, it is there. Everyone sees it. None can avoid it. It covers everything everywhere. What an emptiness to miss someone in this way! I can not imagine what it feels like to have everything remind me of someone, to have everything changed because that person is not a part of life. It is amazing how the love of another person adds so much to one's life . . . definition, meaning, purpose, strength, joy. Even though the actual things and actions may be the same, they're different because this person is not a part of them any longer.

"One only meets each hour or moment that comes."
     This reminds me of God's grace. That grace is sufficient for all our needs. God will never bring us into a situation that He won't bring us through. Life is a journey that we encounter step by step. When faced with huge storms (cancer, death, unhappiness), we get through them little by little and realize our God is way bigger and the problems start to appear way smaller.

It's interesting how Lewis recognizes that his thoughts may be re-creating who "H" was, his memories becoming less genuinely her and more constructed through him. He is afraid that one day what he thinks was true of her may have actually become not so accurate. Maybe an odd connection, but this actually made me think about what I know of God. Is what I know of Him actually who he is? Or is it constructed thoughts that I've pieced together based on things I've been told, memories that haven't been refreshed? It's a good spiritual  reality check.

Its teeth are the teeth of a lion...

"Its teeth are the teeth of a lion, And it has the fangs of a lioness."

This image is referring to the nation that has invaded God's land. It is interesting giving a nation the attributes of teeth and fangs. It makes me think of first the lion, how it is such a strong animal that can be beautiful but also can dominate other animals easily. Israel is going to be overtaken as if it were the lions' prey. The people of this invading army may be seen as different teeth of these lions. Each one, brought together, is going to chomp at God's land and His people.

"All the trees of the field dry up / Indeed, rejoicing dries up."

This is part of the result of the overtaking. Without rejoicing, there is no life. Everything is dried out, cracked, colorless, barren, desolate, unwelcoming. It makes me picture a vast land with once beautiful trees, flowers, and bushes now fading and dying, one by one. It's a place I don't want to be, a place I want to avoid. I hate to think that that's how life could become if I gave up on finding things to rejoice in.

"Their appearance is like the appearance of horses; and like war horses, so they run."

These two lines stood out to me the first time I read this text. Horses are beautiful to me, incredibly strong yet so graceful and gentle. These people (who are looking forward to luscious land and back at desolation) are ready to go. They hear the trumpet, and they have the strength of horses. As horses in battle, they have purpose, a goal, motivation, and maybe a wound or two. They follow each other and stick together.

"But the LORD is a refuge for His people / And a stronghold to the sons of Israel."

I don't think I could ever describe another human being as a refuge, and I think that's why I love these lines so much. God is a refuge. He is a safe place. In Him I can rest. I can run to Him when I'm in trouble. He's always going to be there because He is a stronghold--unmoving, unchanging, unwavering. It's beautiful and amazing.

The whole book of Joel is, in a way, an image drawn in four chapters of scriptural poetry. I think much of it may be literal in that there were historical times of drought and famine and then times of abundance, rain, and harvests. But these images of dryness and then fullness are also an image to what the Lord did then and also does now. When we are not listening to Him, when we do our own things without seeking His will, or when we turn away from Him, our lives--the land--become so dry. We are not joyful, we are always in want of something, and we endure terrible things. But when we allow Him to be the Lord of our lives, we experience deliverance. We find it easy to rejoice in His love, we are blessed for clinging to Him, we know His words of truth and His promises, and we ultimately are saved.

Joel.

"What the gnawing locust has left, the swarming locust has eaten; and what the swarming locust has left, the creeping locust has eaten; and what the creeping locust has left, the stripping locust has eaten."

I really like the repetition of these lines in chapter one of Joel. It has the effect of emphasizing the message that the land is going to be stripped bare. All three of the phrases are structured in the same way: what this kind of locust has left, this kind of locust has eaten. The descriptive words defining the types of locusts have to do with action, which emphasizes both the literary effect and the reality of the message (barrenness). The words sound good because they are so similar and they are easy to comprehend.

"The seeds shrivel under their clods; the storehouses are desolate, the barns are torn down, for the grain is dried up."

The first thing I heard in these lines was the alliteration of the "s" sound. I like how the first three lines explain what happened, and then how the last line reveals why. Literary repetition with the use of "are" and "is" at the end of the lines makes it easy to listen to while clearly stating the message.

"For the day of the LORD is coming; surely it is near, a day of darkness and gloom, a day of clouds and thick darkness."

By repeating the word "day," this passage expands upon the definition of this event and what the day will look like. The first and second lines end somewhat triumphantly, leaving the reader expecting more. The second two lines end with a lower tone, a lower sound, giving finality to the thought and supporting the thought of darkness.

"A fire consumes before them / and behind them a flame burns / the land is like the garden of Eden before them / but a desolate wilderness behind them / and nothing at all escapes them."

This part stood out to me because of the use of "them" in each line. Similar to the pattern of the previous lines, they have an up, down, up, down, down sort of sound to them at the end of each line, with the last line again having an ending sound to it. Also, the use of "before" and "behind" makes the passage flow.

"Their appearance is like the appearance of horses; and like war horses, so they run."

These may be some of my favorite lines in the book. A simile is built upon a simile. The image is concise and the sound is simple.

 

The Colonel.

"What you have heard is true."
One of the first things I noticed about this poem is its style. I love how Carolyn Forche writes in a blunt, factual, and believable way that is also telling, moving, and poignant. This poem is about a visit with a friend to the house of a colonel. The story is told in a direct way with short sentences. One of my favorite examples of this is when she writes, "There is no other way to say this." 


One method Forche uses to keep the flow of the poem going is to list things without using the word "and" before the last item. When I read these sentences, it felt different than it would have if they had more definite endings. It adds to the poem's direct style and made me want to keep reading. Here are some examples that show this style and also have meaning to add to the poem.

"There were daily papers, pet dogs, a pistol on the cushion beside him." It is interesting how she lists a pistol in the same breath in which she speaks of normal, even expected, things to have in a family--newspapers and dogs. This is telling of the tumultuous times of the Nazi rule. People had to be prepared to protect themselves. Who knows who that pistol would injure, when it would be needed, or who it had already hurt?

"We had dinner, rack of lamb, good wine, a gold bell was on the table for calling the maid." Again, the last item in the list is less related to the previous ones. But this one I am more confused about. Was it common to have maids during WWII? What's the significance of mentioning this?

As in the example above, some aspects of this poem that have left me confused or unsure. The cop show on TV is in English, but a commercial comes on in Spanish. What, if anything, does that have to do with human rights?


"The moon swung bare on its black cord over the house."
I love Forche's imagery. This sentence makes me feel like it is nighttime. The dark sky is suspending the bright moon, giving a cool glow to the otherwise black night. 


"The parrot said hello on the terrace."
This line made me laugh. I can just imagine the parrot talking during the middle of an uncomfortable political conversation at the house of a colonel who has a gun just laying around.


I think the purpose of the poem starts emerge at this point. The colonel returns with a bag and dumps its contents onto the table. It is full of dried human ears. I am still trying to figure out why he puts one into water, making it look "alive" again. It's disturbing. It's cruel. It's inhumane. I might have gotten sick if I had to see it in person. But Forche reveals the Colonel's thoughts: "As for the rights of anyone, tell your people they can go f*** themselves." So many possibilities are running through my head. Has he done this to those people? Is he just acknowledging that people's rights are not always accepted and respected? Has he given up on believing people really have rights? After the colonel carelessly brushed the ears to the floor, he sarcastically said, "Something for your poetry, no?" Is he saying it's not worth talking about? Is he implying poetry is not a valid method of discussing issues, revealing truths?


"Some of the ears on the floor caught this scrap of his voice. Some of the ears on the floor were pressed to the ground."
This was the most awakening part of the poem for me. Some of the ears landed upright, others landed facing the floor. It is as if Forche is writing for those ears, for the people who they once belonged to. She is writing to reveal what they heard but couldn't--didn't get the chance--to share. She is hearing what they hear, what they don't want to hear, and is going to make people aware of it. 

Short Story: Leaving.

The past few months were lived in preparation and expectation for today.  Today would begin the next four months of her life. Trying to find sufficient places for the few remaining necessities, Sarah Williams found her usual methodic packing style giving way to the demands of space. Her bright red suitcases just wouldn’t fit much more.

All summer her plans had revolved around this internship, an overseas trip in Rome, Italy. She needed the experience for school, and deciding to travel so far and see new things was exciting. All the months of saving money were about to allow her the opportunity to visit different places, adventures she would take when she wasn’t working. But now it was actually about to happen. “Am I really ready for this?”

All different types of thoughts filled her mind as her excited anticipation was interrupted by reality. She didn’t know anyone in Rome. “I really do want to do this . . . to leave home and live in a foreign country with people that speak a different language. Right?” Certainly Rome would be quite different than her small home town just outside of Colombus, Ohio. She didn’t know what her new temporary home would be like, who her roommates would be, or how she would get around. “At least the food should be good. I better not come back fat!” She didn’t know what kind of work she would be doing or who she would be working with.

Brushing her golden blonde hair over her sun-kissed shoulders, Sarah looked in her own mirror for the last time as she finished getting ready. Seeing her own light brown eyes looking back at her reminded her how mixed her emotions were right now. “I wonder if I’ll stick out as an American . . . ?” Based on her reading about Italy, she was expecting most of the people to be dark haired and olive toned. She wondered how the guys would react to her physical differences. But then again, “How different will I actually be? Is it going to be hard fitting in, feeling comfortable, in such a different place?” She had never been to Italy or anywhere else in Europe for that matter. She turned on her favorite upbeat music to distract herself for the moment.

Although this trip was Sarah’s decision, commitment, and responsibility, it somehow became a family affair. In the few weeks prior to her departure, everyone wanted to prepare Sarah in his or her own way, giving bits and pieces of what they thought to be valuable advice for a young traveler. However thorough and sensible she was, they couldn’t leave all the preparation to her alone. This experience was too new, too unfamiliar, too unpredictable. Her normal habits of planning and thinking didn’t seem to matter, though she assured her family she would be just fine.

Her dad had turned into a history buff, sharing all sorts of information about Rome that he could find in his spare moments at work. The Papacy had become his favorite topic of conversation. “We’re not even Catholic.” Obviously Rome is full of history, but her dad had taken it upon himself to make sure she knew enough about this city before she arrived. Her older brother seemed most concerned about the nightlife. He wanted her to have fun and experience the life of the Italians, whatever that meant. Her mom kept adding things to the packing list—swim suit, winter parka, vitamin C, an extra tube of toothpaste, note cards, you name it. “You never know what you’ll need!” Sarah was pretty sure she would be okay if she forgot something; but then again, what are mothers for? Even grandpa chimed in. He wasn’t thrilled about his only granddaughter taking off all alone. It didn’t matter that the company was well-reviewed by other students, parents, and universities or that they were well trained in introducing American students to the Italian city. She would need pepper spray and an array of maps, he said. He even bought her an international cell phone to use “in case of emergency . . . or when you really miss me.”

Focusing on the present again, Sarah felt prepared—at least on paper. Everything was checked off her list. She had to be ready. As her parents drove her to the airport, those moments of silence gave her a renewed excitement, a resolved composure.

Her mom was going to miss her cheerful laughter. Her dad was going to miss his golfing companion. Sarah was surprised when she didn’t find herself having to fight back tears as she said goodbye to her parents at the airport. “Shouldn’t I be crying right now? I always cry. I’m going to miss them . . . but I guess I’m ready for this.”

There was something about this short event we call “leaving” that made Sarah realize she needed to find her own courage. As much as her family wanted to prepare her, she knew it was up to her to embrace the coming months. What she appreciated most about their advice was that it showed her how much they care about her.

Though the flight was quite long and she knew no one on the plane, Sarah wasn’t lonely. She began seeing stories behind each face. Some were stories of natives returning home. “I wonder what it’s like to call Italy home . . . is that what it will be to me by the time I leave?” Others seemed to hold professional stories, men and women traveling on business. “What will I learn from working in Italy?” And still others reflected stories similar to hers—wonder, anticipation, interest.

Sarah’s story was just beginning. Her first sights of the Italian landscape from above made it very clear that she had so much to see. Her first step onto the airport tarmac in Italy was one of thousands that she would take while becoming acquainted with the historic city. She thought of her dad when she saw the Coliseum for the first time. She smiled when she found the extra toothpaste in her suitcase. She wished her brother were there to help her find the best local restaurant. “I think grandpa’s maps are actually going to come in handy . . .”

Sanjeev.

[looks. job. education. family.]

Sanjeev is a Hindu man from India. He is 33 years old and described as having an average build and height. He works at a firm in Hartford, Connecticut, and holds a position high enough that he has “a secretary of his own and a dozen people working under his supervision.” He does well at work and is “being considered for the position of vice president.” He appears to be smart and well educated, having earned an engineering degree from MIT. In the story Sanjeev displays his college textbooks and we learn how much he enjoyed and values the years he spent in college. I get the feeling that he misses these days. Although the story doesn't state it clearly, I would guess he comes from a very traditional Indian background, based on his expectations of himself and his wife.

[personality.]

Sanjeev’s first words in the story (“Throw it away”) reveal the pessimistic side to his character. He is observant and detail-oriented (“. . . the fireplace mantel, which needed, Sanjeev observed, to be dusted”). He is orderly and meticulous—“[organized] his engineering texts from MIT in alphabetical order.” He likes things to be nice and clean—the mantel, the attic, the baseboard—and even picks up cigarette ashes off the floor. He is factual and likes things to be explained exactly as they happened (“he knew for a fact that she didn’t spend all day at her desk . . .”). He is somewhat self-conscious and definitely concerned with what others think. This concern can be seen throughout the story by his objection to the Christian objects because he is afraid people will think it means he and his wife are Christians. Sanjeev is also stubborn, uncharmed by the Christian paraphernalia that all the others seem to enjoy or appreciate.  

[behavior and influences.]

Sanjeev bases much of his actions out of what he thinks he is supposed to do. He doesn’t know if he’s really in love, but he got married “at the urging of their matchmakers” because he had plenty of money and didn’t want to be lonely. His behaviors are routine and somewhat predictable. He sticks to what he knows. He likes things to be done certain ways; he becomes irritated when Twinkle leaves her undergarments on the floor, and he cannot understand why she won’t write down a recipe for the yummy meal she made. His behavior may be influenced by some picture he has in his mind of how a learned, successful Indian man should live. He even goes through the trouble to cook Indian dishes every weekend.

He seems concerned with impressing people. He introduces Twinkle by her Indian name, Tanima. He worried that they wouldn’t have enough champagne. He dreaded what people would say about Twinkle’s findings. He used his fingers to eat chicken only when he thought no one was watching. He felt the duty to make sure people had enough to eat and drink all night. He wants others to be impressed by him, and this drives certain behaviors.

[self feelings.]

Sanjeev takes things personally and lets little things (such as his “girly” eyelashes) take away his confidence. He does not like his "plump" cheeks any more than those noticeable eyelashes. This insecurity continues throughout the story; he wishes he felt more manly and “distinguished.” He discourages his wife from wearing high heels so she isn’t equal to his height. He doesn’t “know what love [is]. He wishes he could get excited by the little things in life like Twinkle does, but he can’t; he doesn’t get it, and “it [makes] him feel stupid, as if the world contained hidden wonders he could not anticipate, or see.” 

[feelings towards Twinkle.]

Sanjeev really wants to love Twinkle, but he doesn’t know if he does. Little things about her bother him every day. He wants to feel manly next to her but he’s not tall enough. He wishes she could be the typical Hindu Indian woman that he had always envisioned, but she isn’t. She doesn’t know how to prepare Indian foods without recipes, and even then she never cooks them. She talks on the phone when the long-dsitance rates are most expensive. In the story Sanjeev’s character introduces these negative aspects about Twinkle (in ways such as, “Sanjeev observed . . . ”). He doesn’t like her interest in the objects or that she finds meaning in them. However, when he hurts her, he feels sick; he cares about her enough to end the fight rather than let her cry. 

[marriage expectations.]

In his marriage Sanjeev wants a typical Indian housewife by his side. He wants her to cook traditional meals, go by her traditional name, embrace her religion, and make him feel like a man. Because he is so concerned with this idea, he is held back from living fully instead of accepting who he is (and who she is) and making their own path together. He wants his marriage to show him what love is.

[obstacles.]

One obstacle Sanjeev faces is the fact that he does not seem to have any close friends. The people they invite over for their housewarming are colleagues or acquaintances. They don’t really have a close support system of friends or family. Another challenge is that they are Hindu but live in a Protestant community.  

[conflicts.]

Sanjeev struggles with being the person he's been taught that he should be. His mind is constantly going, always noticing the negative things and unable to loosen up. He thinks rigidly, but he wishes he could appreciate things in different ways. Another conflict is his struggle with love...its definition, behaviors, meaning. An external conflict is the struggle between his and Twinkle's views of the Christian objects. 

[attitude towards the world.]

On a larger scale Sanjeev often relies on others’ opinions to guide his thinking. Instead of approaching the world boldly, he often doubts. He wants to fall in line with the image he thinks he should live out. He forms his opinion on Mahler’s Fifth Symphony based on what he read about it. I think this is because he is ultimately worried about what people all around him think about him. He does not see the world as a huge opportunity or a place in which to grow. Instead, he sees it as ordered and expecting him to do certain things.