An Update

For those of you who used to follow my writing here, rejoice! My misfortune has lead to your lucky day! I stopped writing in September, well, because it was getting old. I didn't really enjoy it as much as I did when I first started, and like I said in my last 'Apology to my Readers' it was becoming a fad. Chris Chong doesn't do fads.

But now he does! Because if he doesn't he fails an English Assignment. So be happy. I'll be posting regularly again, assuming my laziness continues to outweighed by my desire to succeed. Lets hope that balance stays in favor of the non-living-in-a-box life.

An Update

Mannnnnnnn it has been awhile since I've sat down and punched out one of these. Its been 3 months since my last post. Needless to say, my increasingly interesting and exciting life has only gotten more interesting and exciting in between now and then. Thats false. School's been a drag, with the exceptional high points. There have been some exciting weekends though, and I think I will regale you all with some stories of weekends past.

Bears

There comes a time in one's life when the ordinary no longer suffices. A time when, bold, brash, and reckless decisions become common place, and later in life we look back and say "what the hell was I thinking?". This is a time we call adolescence. It's a time of crazy nights, adventure, excitement, and singing at the top of your lungs to the blasting music assaulting your ear drums.

Lets talk about blasting music. Specifically, blasting music in cars. Theres no feeling in the world like when you crank those windows down, and that volume dial up. Am I over-romanticising something simple? Yes. Why? I guess its who I am.

It's like you're being drawn together as your belted words fuse with the stereo's, and the voices of your friends. Theres this feeling of aliveness, and energy that just rushes through you when you scream out those tired old lyrics. I love it. And thats exactly what we were doing that night, crusing down 527, Blink182 making the windows shake, and screaming at the top of our lungs "And my friends say I should act my age, what's my age again, whats my age again?"

We were ecstatic, and why? We just pulled it off. No one thought it could be done. A scandal others had only joked about, and said "Oh haha, yeah that'd be crazy if we ever did that.", we did. We stole smokey the bear.

It was late on a Saturday night, when I got the call from Jason. He wanted to come pick me up and do something adventurous. How could I refuse? Fifteen minutes passed before I saw the black jeep commander pull into Tyler Alhf's driveway. Reluctantly, I got up, and left the warmth of the bonfire. I said goodbye to my development friends, and jumped in. We drove back to my house to meet with Dean and Dan.

Thats where it started. Let me fast forward you to the action.

"WE'VE GOT IT, WE'VE GOT IT GO GO GO GOOOO!" Was the last transmission I got from Dean before the call went dead. "NOW!" I screamed to Danny in the driver's seat. We peeled out of the wawa parking lot and raced over to where we had left Dean and Jason. The street was dark, and besides a the occasional pair of headlights, the road was lit by a single nearby street light. We spun a hard right into the alley, and a few seconds later, hands were banging on the trunk of Dean's landrover, and I heard voices screaming "OPEN! NOW! NOW! OPEN THE TRUNK!"

The back gate flew open and a 6 foot tall smokey the bear was thrown in behind me. Jason and Dean jumped in, and we sped off. Adrenaline pumping, and hearts racing. Screams erupted in the cabin as we cheered our accomplishment. None of us could believe it. Amidst the roar of excitement I looked back, just to make sure, that it really was a 6 foot smokey the bear sitting back there next to Jason.

It was a crazy night. We took smokey to rumson, and brought him into the party we crashed. Although well recieved at first. A few of the rumson kids found us out of place, and decided that we werent fitting company. We left shortly after a Dean went berserk on this one kid who flipped his hat off his head. I though for sure there'd be a brawl, and the first thought in my mind was what nice peice of furniture I could use as to defend myself.

We staggered home, weary with crazy thoughts of the whole scheme. I slept well.

So thats my weekend story. I'll all written out tonight, so thats it for now.

I'll be back tomorrow with more.

-Chris.

Music I'm listening to Right Now:

Film Noir - The Gaslight Anthem

On my new vinyl record player!

30 Hours of Awesomeness

Foreward

This ones long. I'm sorry! Quite litterally from the start of Saturday, to the end, to Sunday morning, so much epicness took place that the quantity of writing in this post has greatly exceeded that of any previously written. You can stop and come back later. I wont mind.

Enjoy

Getting Up

A small puddle of drool had developed under my chin by the time the morning chill woke me up. I was fully clothed, on my stomach, and sprawled over the downstairs couch. My body was sore and I was tired, and desperately wanted to go back to sleep. I could hear my mom walking around in the kitchen, and Jibbles was busy parading back and forth on my back, nudging the back of my head to get me up. After a great deal of hesitation I slowly brought my watch to my face, and jumped up in terror when I saw the time. I had fallen asleep around 3AM staring at my computer screen, and now it was 7:40AM. I was supposed to call Dan 40 minutes ago. I hit the ground hard when I rolled over onto the floor, stumbled to my feet, and ran upstairs to get my phone and call Dan. Thankfully he was already awake, and since his parents were still sleeping, he'd be picking me up half an hour later. 

A bit more relaxed now, I threw some gear in my bag, and began rigging up my fishing rod. The sky was mostly grey, and when I opened the door to the porch, the air snapped back with a chilly breeze. I got a hoodie and my jacket, and put some ramen on the stove. Just as I slurped up the last strand of noodles, my phone rang. Dan was outside.

I grabbed a few more last minute things, and Dan and I put the gear in the car. It was good to see Dan for a fishing trip again. We hadn't been fishing in the longest time, and our last memories on the water were beginning to feel distant. I secretly wished the car would go faster.

The Jetty

After a quick stop at the Belmar Marina bait shop, Danny and I hopped out the benz (lolz), and started towards the inlet jetty. The picture you see here was taken aboard the Miss Belmar, as we were coming in from an off shore bluefish trip. Me and Danny set ourselves up a little bit to the right of the weather station tower. The picture here is a little inaccurate, however. It was taken in June, when the ocean was calm, and mostly flat. On September 18th, as me and Danny set up the chairs and baited the rods, 10 foot swells battered the jetty every few minutes. The especially large ones left us damp and unhappy. The lumbering walls of water lurched forward, crashing onto the rocks and sending spray up into the air. It was an impressive sight. Gulls flew by over head, and a steady East wind kept things far from calm. 

I missed being around the Ocean. I felt kind of sad looking across the deserted beaches. Th summer crowd had been replaced by a few joggers, and fishermen every so often. The Pavillion was boarded up on the Avon side, and the lifeguards had long since been off duty. The grey sky mirrored the vacant solemness of the waterfront below. I casted out the rods, and Dan and I sat back and talked. Thats one thing I like about fishing bait. You can just sit back, relax, have a hot drink and good conversation. That was another thing I missed. Talking with Dan and waiting for a bite. The conversation is always interesting. We went from girls, to herbs, to Russians, to school, and to plenty of subjects I cant remember. Then back to girls. Fishing conversation is perhaps one of the best things about the sport. Whether sitting out on The Jetty, on the bank of the golf course ponds, or in the boat, its always good, and I cherish every second of it.

The fish decided to cooperate that day, and pretty soon Dan had a little Sea Robin on the Jetty. Everyone and their sister has labeled the robin as a trash fish, and few people keep ugly bottom fish. We decided to anyway, and stuck it in this sort of natural livewell that had formed when the ocean spray filled up a big hole in the jetty. Sea Robin or not, it was better than some of the other days we've spent on the Jetty. We always read about fast paced, fish after fish action, with giant stripers, ravenous bluefish, and big albacore running up and down the beaches. I don't doubt it happens, but I've yet to see it.

We put the lines out again, and went back to conversation. Danny got another hit, and reeled back a keeper sized fluke! We were so happy to see a fluke, I started dancing around. This was a terrible decision on my part. As I pranced around Danny and his catch, brimming with the glee and excitement of a young school girl, my precious zippo lighter, one of my most prized posessions, flew from my pocket, and tumbled down the rocks toward the surging Atlantic. I let out a piercing shriek as I sprang forward to save my poor little lighter from the swirling deep. It tumbled into a crack, and I was standing over the opening before it had a chance to hit the bottom. 

I could barely see the lighter, which was about 1 3/4 feet down this tiny hole. I knelt down and squeezed my hand as far down the crack as it would go. I was still about 6 inches short. I didn't give up. I forced my arm another 5 inches. It was a painful ordeal, and in the process I cut/bruised up my arm pretty badly. The pain that shot through my arm was horrible. The worst part was that I could actually touch my lighter, and I accidently touched it further down the hole. I gathered my strength and forced my arm down even further. After 5 or 6 tries I was finally able to get my ring and middle finger aroun the lighter. And with my face against the rocks, and my arm completely engulfed by the rock, I pulled out my lighter, and held it up in triumph. It was a lot cooler than I made it sound. Trust me.

The Rouge Wave

Much time had past since the excitement of the previous paragraphs, and by now the action had settled down to a slow pace. I caught a throwback fluke, and besides a seagull stealing the neighboring fishermens bait, and us trying to scare it off with my sandal, all was quiet on the south jetty. All except for the pounding surf. Now, if you ask Danny, what was about to happen, it was completely my fault. I disagree. As he retrieved his bait, his sinker got stuck in the rocks at the base of the jetty, where the jagged rocks met the violent ocean. This was a problem. We were out of sinkers at the time, and the loss of another would mean he would have to put his rod down, or worse yet, beg the other fishermen for spares. 

Danny indicated that he was going to go down to the waters edge and try to get it. I wouldn't allow it. I had gone down the to the edge a few times before, and even on a calm day, the potential for danger is exceedingly high. Algae makes the rocks as slick as butter on hardwood flooring, and the steep angles of the big rocks make slipping and bashing youre skull open all too easy. 

Earlier in the car I had promised Mrs. K to keep Danny safe, and in keeping with that promise, I held him back, and started down the rocks myself instead. The first few rocks ae always easy, wet but not slimy. About 4 feet out, things started to get hairy. Every so often a bigger swell would come in, and send me scurrying back up the jetty. If one of these waves hit when I was down there, I could be swept out to sea, or get crushed against the rocks. I yelled to Danny over the sound of the surf, "IF YOU SEE A BIG ONE COMING, WARN ME AS SOON AS YOU CAN!!" Needless to say, he didn't. Maybe he did, thats what he claims anyway, but it certainly wasnt loud enough because when I reached the waters edge, I looked to my left, and watched in awe as a wall of water came up, and smothered me beneath it. I clung to the rock with all my strength. The receeding water ripped one of my sandals off, and as the wave swept back into the ocean, I was left cursing and spitting on the rocks. 

Thoroughly soaked, and cold, I scampered up and scolded Danny for not warning me. I ripped off my shirt and walked about a mile to the boutique by the Pavillion in Avon, and tried to get some dry clothes. They were boarded up. On the way back to the jetty, I decided to just take off my soaked jeans, and go around in my boxers. As I jogged back to the inlet, people stared. I don't blame them. I must have been a pretty bizzare sight. I hung my clothes up to dry on the weather station, and continued fishing as normal. Just without pants (and dignity) of course. In another hour or so our bait, as well as our morale, was dwindling, and we decided to pack the gear and head for Belmar on foot. Yes, I actually walked around like that. No pants, one sandal. Thashowido

Belmar 

We left the Shark River inlet, and went south on Ocean avenue. By now the sun had come out, and Danny wanted 16th avenue, so we had quite a far walk ahead of us. Back on the jetty we decided to throw the sea robin back into the drink, but we did keep the fluke. Which was now leaking out of my bag. I must have looked like a pack mule. My backpack was bulging with my wet clothes, a plethora of fishing gear, the net, and my jacket was hanging off it. The most awkward part however was buying shorts from this little beach store. I walked in, and bought an 8 dollar pair of shorts. So. Awkward.

When we reached 16th, I saw crowds of people and the beach was filled! The air had warmed up and there was a surfing competition going on. We crossed Ocean Ave and peeled the gear - and our shirts - off and got something to eat. Guys were walking around shirtless, and girls had bikinis on. It was a familiar sight. The bleak emptiness of the morning at Avon had been replaced by 80 degree weather, and the town had come back to life like it was summer again. The live reggae music was really good, and I found myself zoned out to the steady beat, watching the half dressed beachgoers cross back and forth Ocean Avenue. I was smiling.

One kind of obscure thing I really like about the beach is the little signs on Ocean Avenue that say pedestrians have the right of way, and cars (by law) have to yield to those on foot. I feel like a boss when traffic stops for me, what can I say?

I bought a shirt from Eastern Lines, and we packed up the gear and walked over to the beach. As we were walking infront of the crowd watching the competition, the MC in the announcer box, who was dishing out hilarious comments, and even more hilarious family guy herbert the pervert (complete with whistle voice) impressions, said in a dead serious voice. "Is that a trout net?" At me. I smiled and pumped my rod in the air, before feeling like a tool and finding a spot to sit down. It was one of the many highlights of the day. Dan had many laughs then, as well as later on. We settled down in the sand and watched the surfers tear up the waves. It was awe inspiring. Stuff I had only seen on youtube, they made look sooooo easy. The music had changed to a faster paced ska, and another familiar sight greeted me as I looked across the sand. with the exception of a few more shirts than usual, 16th Avenue looked just like it did in the summer. There wasn't a moment I didnt enjoy.

Spring Lake

The brief part of our first time in Spring Lake presents an instresting story of chance and indecision. As we anticipated what we thought would be the end to an already grand day, Danny wanted to walk further South, towards Spring Lake, where his friend Alex lived, and where I would be dropping him off when my mom picked us up. I didn't want to leave Belmar, the music, the people, or the surfing competition. My mom was [supposedly] on her way to 16th to pick us up, but because Danny suddenly developed an uncanny desire to travel by foot, he somehow convinced me to leave the bustling haven of Belmar, and trek with him to Spring Lake.

We brushed off the sand, and headed South once again on the board walk. I would totally have regretted doing this if not for what happened a little while later. A few minutes into our journey, as we entered Spring Lake, something awesome happened. I was half listening to Danny talk, and sub consciously analysing the joggers, people walking, and bikers, that passed us in the opposite direction, when all of a sudden a red flag when off in my head, and I realized I had just seen something important. I reviewed everything I had taken in the moment before, turned around and shouted "MR. PEREZ?" And to our surprise, the powerwalker turned around and sure enough it was none other than Juan Perez! Our retired Gum teacher. He remembered who we were, and we talked for a little while. He had lived in Belmar all his life, and now that he was retired, he walked almost everyday, and enjoyed an awesome life of leisure. Just as we were talking, behind us a lady tripped over a parking lot barrier and hit her face on the ground. It was a good thing we kept Mr. Perez there. He helped her up and made sure she was okay. We talked a little while more, and he asked us to tell his former co-workers he said hi, and after a handshake to each of us, he was on his way, and Dan and I were going crazy about how awesome it was to see Juan again.

The further South we went, the more I realized how stupid this was. I had left behind a metropolis in Belmar, and traded it for more deserted beaches, and a less exciting residential area. I cursed Dan for convincing me to undertake such a meaningless journey, and after much stubborness and hard convincing, I turned us around and we headed back for Belmar. I plopped down in the sand again and basked in the sun's glorious rays. The surfers were still going at it, and the MC was still cracking jokes. I wanted as much summer as I could cram in between then and the time my mom picked us up. 15 minutes later she pulled up and parked on the corner of 17th. We climbed in to the car and again headed South, this time to drop Danny off at spring lake.

I rolled down the windows, and turned up the volume. Some cl0uds had moved back in, and the sunshine and warmth was starting to dissipate. Even my mom, who I expected to complain a whole lot that we were detouring to Spring Lake, was calm for the most part. Though that didn't last. I relished it. I knew this would be, for better or worse, the real last taste of summer I'd get till June, and I tried my hardest to absorb every second as best I could. On the way back through Belmar my mom had to use the bathroom, and since the traffic was pretty much bumper to bumper, she hopped out and started walking to the Dunkin Donuts on 16th. I found a nearby parking spot, and as I waited for her in the car, a man passing out pink hats came by. I got one for myself and another for my mom. I can't describe how insanely hilarious she looked in it. Much less how we both probably looked with the matching hats. It was good Mom-Chris bonding time.

Home

I got home and started breaking down the gear. I put my ocean soaked clothes to wash and filleted the fluke. I made an amazing pan fry dish. It was delicious.

Logan, Ahlf, and Nick came over, and a little later Pat showed up. We went outside to throw the football when I got a text from Danny, asking if I wanted to come back for night fishing. I wanted to. Bad. It was already 7:30, and the last rays of the sun had dipped back over the horizon. It was impossible. My mom was at work, and either way there was no way she was driving me there or picking me up. I didn't see a way. But I really did want to go.

I called my cousin, and she said she would drive me. But how would I get home? After a long series of texts, phone calls, google map estimations, and train schedules, I worked out a water tight plan. First off, to any sneaky excursion, there has to be an insurance plan. I called my Dad, and told him that Tonya had offered to pick me up, and we'd go out to eat with some friends since it was her last night in Matawan before going back to College. He loves when I hang out with family, and agreed all to readily. 

Back To Spring Lake

It was around 8:45 when Tonya got to my house. Her and her friend Lamar waited in the driveway as I ran around packing the things I would need. She came in and talked with my mom for a little before I hopped in the Camry, and we sped off back towards the ocean. 

I got back to Spring Lake right at 9:30. When we arrived at the house, Dan took me over to meet Alexs' parents. I did my best to make small talk and carry on the conversation. They have an awesome house by the way. Its big and victorian, the inside is very very nice. I lingered at the outdoor table little while longer before joining Dan, Alex, his younger brother, and his cousin, in the garage, to rig up rods, and decide on a location to fish. We opted for the pipe, where it was rumored a 20lb fish had been caught earlier.

Night Fishing on the Beach

The darkness that now blanketed the east coast was held back behind the beach, by the brightness of the streetlights that lined Ocean Avenue. The moon was bright and it was a very clear night. You could see the surf crashing off the beach. We walked at a brisk pace. I couldn't wait to get on the sand. Surf fishing is generally new ground for me, and I didn't know what to expect. The heat of the day had given way to a cool breezy night. I wondered what was behind those walls of whitewater. Big striped bass, I hoped.

We reached the end of the boardwalk, and hiked over to where the pipe ran out into the ocean. When we got there however, we decided that going on the pipe with the surf this heavy would be too dangerous, so we stayed on the beach. First cast out Danny got a nice fluke. Which we put in my bag. I baited up my rod, and casted out far beyond the breakers, I set it down in a holder and took out the aluminum can stove I made earlier when I got bored. I tried to boil some water to make hot chocolate, oatmeal, hardboiled eggs, or ramen, but the cup was too thick and all I got was hot water. It was nice though. I felt really cool that my little invention worked. 

Night fishing was over before we knew it. Although we only spent a little over an hour fishing, and we only had a measly fluke to show for it, I was content. Being on the beach at night in itself was an experience. For awhile I forgot about fishing, the little flame from my stove provided a faint sense of warmth, and the sound of the waves crashing began to almost hypnotize me. The sounds, sights, and the smell of the ocean all combined to form a vivid space that was both intriguing and mysterious. Unfortunately, Alex's mom wanted us back in the house by 11, and we were already pushing that by the time the gear was packed and we were all back on the board walk. The walk back would prove to be pretty interesting. 

Here's why.

I'll let you decide what this is a picture of.

Let's just say it wouldn't be a scene in a disney movie.

Sleeping Over Alex's

We got back to Alex's house to find his father and Uncle still outside talking. We showed them our catch. Alex's Uncle, Andy, is about as professional as you can get when it comes to fishing. He's a big game guy, and his trips center around the big tuna, marlin, and other deep water fish you find 60-100 miles off the coast. And like any other fisherman, he had his fish stories. You probably hate fishing stories because of me, but there are few things I would rather hear and adult talk about more. Uncle Andy told of stories of giant Tunas, and epic 6 hour battles. He showed us pictures on his iphone too. Dan and I could only dream of catching fish so big.

Dan, Alex, and I settled down in one of the mini living rooms on the first floor. Dan hogged the couch of course, and I was stuck with the floor. I was out cold within 2 minutes.

The Train Home

I woke up to a bright Sunday morning. The floor left me sore again, and when I looked over, Danny was barely awake. I fought valiantly against the morning, a desperate battle which I eventually lost. It was almost 9:15, and if I slept any longer I would miss my 9:30 train to Matawan. I got up and threw my stuff in my bag.I said my goodbyes, and told Alex to thank his father for letting me stay. The air was starting to warm up, and the chilly breezes of yesterday morning were replaced by a stagnant lukewarm cool. I ran over to the garage to grab my fishing rod and the fluke. I walked down the drive way and turned around to admire the house one last time. And from there I crossed the street, and took off jogging towards the Spring Lake Rail Station. It was a long run. I passed through the old victorian sector, lined with big houses like Alex's. An old lady was walking through through the park when i reached the end of the street, which came to a hault at the edge of Spring Lake (the lake, not the town) She gave me directions, and I took off again. I crossed over Spring Lake, and a few hundred yards later, I was standing on the platform, out of breath, but in time. 

The train ride was amazing. I fell asleep between Bradley Beach and Longbranch. At Longbranch I transfered trains and sank back into a comfortable seat on the top deck. I sat across from this girl on her cell phone the whole ride. She had the most annoying voice I had ever heard, and she talked loudly and with poor conversational skills. She reassured her friend she had made sufficient progress in finding a new man, and stated that it was "GOOD THAT YOU CONNECTED WITH SOMEONE. I MEAN. THAT'S REALLY GOOD. I MEAN. JUST THAT YOU FOUND SOMEONE YOU COULD CONNECT WITH... THATS REALLY GOOD." This went on for quite some time before a brave lady in the back of the car stepped up and told her to "SHUT UP OR MOVE!" She sheepishly closed her phone, and gave up with little resistence. I don't know if the applause I heard was imagined or not.

Matawan, Church, and Home

I stepped off the train in Matawan, and found Tonya parked in a nearby lot. We ate at McDonalds, which was nice. When we were little her Dad used to take us there every Saturday morning. The place hadn't changed much. Breakfast was good, and from there she drove me to church. My mom was there, and that was my way home. 

I got back around 1, went inside, and slept. Epicness still radiating throughout my slumber.

-Chris

Music I'm Listening to Right Now:

School and September

To my readers,

Before you read this, I just want to say I'm sorry for neglecting this blog. Lately a lot of people have been starting blogs. Very few blogs were around when I started this one, and I guess it just started to feel really unoriginal. There are a lot of blogs out there now, and I hope the few readers that enjoyed my blog haven't moved on. I'll do my best to keep writing, and if for some reason I'm not on the ball with that, let me know! I can't tell you how amazing it is was when random people I had no idea read my blog came up to me and asked me why I had stopped writing. They missed my blog and wanted more! It's just an amazing feeling as a writer to know that people actually enjoy your ramblings, it felt like I had achieved something. So yeah, encouragement makes a HUGE difference. There are times when my writing morale gets very low. So if you read and enjoy my crap, by all means PLEASE let me know if you'd like to see more. You wouldn't believe the difference it makes

-Chris

School

 

This, my dear readers, is Manalapan High School. Where the grades are low, the freshmen are lower, and a surprisingly low amount of damns are distributed per capita, if any at all. (No one cares)

Manalapan High School is a magical place, where students discover who they really are, and grow into the social butterflies that they are destined to become. lol about that. These are some pics I took today for yearbook. 

On a more serious note, Manalapan isn't such a bad high school. A lot of people complain, but I kinda like it. The lunches aren't always (completely) revolting, and other than the obnoxious lack of air conditioning in some of the rooms, its bearable. Sneaking out of class and roaming around is fun too. 

However, there is a much more dark and sinister side. The academic side. Behind the many doors of the many hallways, you'll find classes that make you want to slowly gouge your eyes out, like my 2nd period Intermediate Algebra 2 class. If James Tancredi ever reads this, disrupt the class more. It makes the torture of Algebra and Mrs. Rose's robot voice that much less painful. 

Mrs. Rose is boring, but shes not mean like (dun dun dun) Mr. Sprague. I'm pretty much willing to bet my cat Jibbles that anyone who has spent more than 10 minutes in a room with him, has instantly developed an intense burning hatred for this man. He loudly informed one girl in our 11th period wood working class that she looked like a cow. She was chewing gum, and he went off on a fit of rage at her 'act of defiance'. 

I wanted to stand up and give him a limb tearing "Mr. Sprague, saying that was both disrespectful and unprofessional, if this is the example you wish to provide us with, then how can you expect us to treat you any different?" speech. Followed by a nonchalant, brisk walk out the door, accompanied by a loud applause. But of course I kept my mouth shut. He also says the word cockroach really weird. "You can't chew gum in here or else all the cock-a-roaches are gonna come." I transfered out.

Seeing all the your friends makes up for the brutality of academics, though. And it's a welcome change to actually see people before 1 o'clock in the afternoon. I guess that's what makes it all worthwhile to me, the people I call my friends. Because I probably wouldn't show up without them.

Still wish it was summer, despite all that.

I wrote all that ^ A few days ago. About some stuff that happened today...

Today the seniors took their class picture at the bleachers. Now, I'm lucky enough to be friends with Gwen Kirsten, who, since last year, has been able to get me out of more classes than I can remember to take pictures for the yearbook staff. That being said, the amount of typical boring school days greatly exceeds the amount of exciting, 'yay! lets miss class!' days. But when they come around, whether it be by Class Council, Yearbook, or International Day, they always make for a memorable time. Especially when you get to miss the majority of class for the day. 

I use my camera to get out of class a lot. A simple look of false boredom, mixed in with a little concern, aggravation, and the sight of a big DSLR camera and a respectful tone of voice, is usually more than enough to get out of pretty much any class. It helps to be asian too, we're a trustworthy race for the most part. Excluding Pearl Harbor and the whole Triad thing of course.

So today I spent 1st, 2nd, and 3rd, period riding in a golf cart with Gwen, Mrs. Albanese, and some other yearbook kids. Oh, and taking pictures of course. It was fun, especially flying past the classroom windows and laughing at the kids trapped in class. That was probably my favorite part =] I'm actually grinning right now. 

After school I went to the home opener for boys varsity soccer. We lost but it was fun. I finally got to use my megaphone for an extended period of time. I felt very cool.

September

September is a bittersweet time for me. My year is a constant countdown for the last bell of that last day, when we finally get turned loose for those 2 amazing months. But even as we mourn the passing of another summer, and even though we speak of the days ahead - the school days - with bitter tones, no matter how much some of us deny it, there will always be that sinking feeling way in the back of our heads that secretly longs to be back in those hallways. Walking with our friends, and see those familiar sights we haven't seen since June. I have to admit, I enjoy being back in school. There are times I'm more miserable than a beached whale and I can't stand to be conscious in that building, but 73% of the time I'm enjoying myself or something close to that.

But September 1st didn't mark the end of our summer adventures. In an episode of surprising awesomeness, Danny Tal, the indecisive - and at times a little awkward - boy we all know and love, decided it was time to break out of his shell and so something crazy. 

The first subtle signs of fall chillyness began to creep through my tshirt as I waited for Danny to bring the truck around that day. It was September 5th, and we had already been to school for 1 day. I ran inside to grab a hoodie. Danny pulled up in his truck shortly after. Danny is 16, and only has his permit. I've never know him to be much of a risk-taker, so seeing him driving alone and defying the law, was certainly a strange sight. We put a few fishing rods and some fire starting materials in the bed, and took off for Tyler Alhf's. Danny drove at a steady pace, you could hardly tell that he had only been driving since February. His motions were fluid, and he came out of his turns smoothly.

When we got to Tyler's we loaded a few stacks of firewood among some other things, and from there on Danny Matthew Tal shattered all existing perceptions I had of him. He brazenly steered us down Millhurst, and we drove to Wendy's to grab something to eat before going on to the bonfire lake. It was maybe 8:30 by the time we left Wendys. And by the time we got to the lake it was completely dark out. The air was crisp and cool. We hopped out and built a big roaring fire. The sound of crackling wood was a comfort to me. My mind drifted back to so many nights past, where I sat around the same fire pit, and gazed over the brilliance of the night sky, the solemn trees, and the stillness of the lake as the flames kept me warm and illuminated the surroundling landscape. It was all very nostalgic. We talked for awhile, but I left a little while in to go fishing. 

I tied on a top water popper, and began casting out along the lilly pads and standing reeds. After maybe 20 minutes of slipping on the slick bank, fumbling with backlashes, and cleaning my lure of weeds, I got a strike. A big one. The water surged violently, and my lure was engulfed by a nice sized bass. I brought it up on land, and we cleaned it and cooked it over the fire. It was TASTY. I know it sounds disgusting, but it was totally Bear Grylls-esque, and we felt like pretty manly men.

It was time to leave before we knew it. I felt good as I watched the white lines flash by one after another as we drove back. Danny skillfully guided us homeward, and after a brief scuffle at Quik Check, where we came a little too close to a police car then we probably should have, we were back at Dannys. And with that, we ended our summer, for real.

Thats it for now. Gotta do homework

- Chris

Music that I'm listening to right now:

Epic Bike Ride / Climbing Onto the Roof of MEMs

Epic Bike Rides

In the last post I mentioned how Logan enjoys biking across Manalapan. Well today, he, along with Greg, Josh, and myself, took biking rides to a whole new level. 

Usually, we bike for a purpose, with a destination in mind. And usually, we come up with pretty reasonable excuses, like a tasty place to eat, or something we need to get from Walmart  to drive us the distance, make us sweat, and risk our lives dodging speeding cars, rabid animals, and inclement weather. 

There was no such incentive this time. We left Greg and Logan's with no destination in mind. And as we flew past the street lights and mailboxes in the fading light of the dying August day, things were looking pretty good. We flew through Meadow Creek and crossed Woodward Road onto the narrow road I had taken in the post entitled "Scenic Bike Rides and Golf Course Ponds". The air was cool as the last bits of the Sun's rays began to dip beyond the backdrop of rolling farmland. We passed big cows and old farm houses. It was like being in another place, I swear. You'd never believe you were in Manalapan. 

We detoured into a little baseball field park. Now, it's imperative that you understand that this was Josh's last real night of summer. With soccer and other activities keeping him occupied until school starts, his days of freedom had effectively come to an end. So on his last day, Josh was craving adventure. This led to a series of sporadic spurts of action, and when logan decided to use the porta potty by the snack building, Josh scaled the nearby building, and jumped ontop of Logan's little man fortress. It was hilarious to watch. But we soon grew tired of the park, and left to continue on the narrow rural road. 

By the time we had reached the extent of where I had previously traveled, the Sun was completely gone, and we switched on our bike lights as we ventured on into unknown territory. The Western sky's glow slowly faded into a thin yellow/grey before disappearing completely and leaving us with a murky purple, star filled sky. 

The landscape had changed from rolling pastures into huge fields of corn. I felt like I was in the movie Signs, and feelings of eerieness began creeping into my head as we continued into increasingly more rural settings. I kept expecting to see some rednecks with shotguns standing in the street, or someone playing a banjo on their porch. Luckily the only person we encountered was a man checking his mail. 

We had traveled maybe 11 miles when we first saw lights in the distance. Someone screamed out "Civilization!" and we all cheered as we peddled towards the intersection. We were in a town called Concordia, and the lights we saw turned out to be a big Stop and Shop. We chained our bikes to the rack and bought some drinks and a few bananas and snacks before starting back. Thats when the real fun began.

The road had grown wider and slightly more trafficked the closer it came to the Stop and Shop plaza, and more cars began to pass us as we left to begin our journey home. As we cut through the pitch blackness of the once again rural road, one car full of unruly teenagers unloaded a few high volume f-bombs on us as they passed us by. A few of us retaliated, but we mostly thought nothing of the event. It was when they came around a second time, that we shut off our lights and quickened our pace. We were on edge and very scared as we frantically sped through the darkness. The first sighting of headlights behind us sent us flying into a stranger's driveway. We took shelter for a second or two until the motion activated flood lights flicked on and we scampered away and back onto the road. Thankfully, they didn't make a third pass at us. When we reached Iron Ore Road, we detoured left, towards our next destination, Manalapan English Town Middle School. Which brings us to the next title.

Climbing Onto the Roof of MEMs

I love roofs. Maybe you find it strange, or maybe you agree with me completely, theres something about being up above everything else, seeing beyond the trees, and looking down at the far away ground that I just find thrilling. Mountain Climbers probably feel the same about mountain climbing. But with no mountains in Manalapan, the next best thing we have would be our old middle school. 

When MEMs came into view I made a promise with myself. I wouldnt leave till I found a way up. A moving truck stood alone in the empty parking lot. It was quiet. Everything looked so serene, and pangs of nostalgia hit when I saw my old school. Little had changed since the days we used to walk its hallways. We canvased the entire building for a way up. And as we came around the last corner back to the front, I found it. 

A small blue drain pipe bolted to the side of the building provided an object to cling to as I shimmied up to the ledge beneath the second entrance's outdoor roof. You can see the pipe in middle of the picture before this one. It wasn't easy going, and I struggled to flop myself onto the little platform. I found a stable place to plant myself, and reached down to help Josh up. Greg and Logan elected to stay on the ground, which in reality was the much better decision, as the next few moves Josh and I would make would prove to be extremely life threatening, and pretty stupid on our part. 

From here on things began to look a little too treacherous. The blue roof above the ledge hung out precariously about a foot beyond the ledge we were on, and climbing up from there would require superhuman upper body strength, and some serious guts. Stumped and a little disappointed, we sat down and momentarily gave up our dream. The ledge was pretty cool, and almost satisfying to top off our adventurous night. Josh wasn't as complacent as I was. His enthusiasm drove me to action, and I found a way up to the next level. 

Between the building and roof structure above the ledge was a small gap. I grasped the top of the roof, and slowly pulled myself up onto the dangerously smooth blue metal roof. A nice 30 foot drop onto solid concrete awaited our slightest errors at the end of the extremely tapered roof. It was so slanted that standing, and walking up, was completely out of the question. I gripped the metal edge and snaked my way up a few inches at a time, my body pressed against the metal, until I reached the top. 

There was no ledge here, and I was shaking as I straddled the top of the entrance roof. I stood up, using the brick building for balance, and peered over the edge onto the roof of MEMs. It was barely do-able. However, A gripping fear held me back. If we were somehow able to fling ourselves the next 4 or so feet from the tip of the entrance roof, over the ledge, and onto the roof of the building itself, getting down back onto the ledgeless entrance roof would mean certain death. With no place to land on the way back down it would be all too easy to slip, and slide down the metal to be crushed on the concrete, now some 4o feet below us. 

I got down on my stomach and once again gripped the metal, ready to give up and shimmy down. I wanted out. I had had enough adventure. Greg and Logan wanted us to come down. I agreed with them. Right then, Josh made a very profound statement to as we both clung to the cold metal on our bellies. We were both shaking with fear when he  reminded me it was his last night of freedom. He wanted to make it memorable. Going on the roof was something he had to do. After a brief moment of indecisiveness, I agreed to follow him if he made the climb first. We yelled our decision to Greg and Logan, who left for fear of being caught with us, and I watched in horror as Josh threw his arms over the building's ledge, and pulled him self over and onto the roof. 

Still shaking, I stood up on the tip of the entrance roof and paused for a second as I weighed the risks one last time. "The hell with it." I thought. My feet left their footing as I dangled over the edge, before once again flopping over onto stable footing. I hugged the pebbles with my whole body as the fear drained out. It was replaced with an overwhelming sense of relief. I was alive.

We were brusied, still shaking, and without our shoes as we hugged each other, but we had done it. I felt like I had just slain a dragon. To be honest I had doubted that we would actually ever make it to the roof. But there we were. Damaged, but there. 

We explored the vast expanses of the several roofs ontop of MEMs. Each level of roof was connected by ladder. It was like being on the moon, grey and desolate. We could make out the air conditioning vents strewn across the dimly moonlit landscape. A brilliant display of stars hung over us, as we made our way to the far side by the parking lot. Our mobility was severely cut down by the gravel, which was quite painful to walk on. 

Although the roof itself was pretty awesome alone, it was the idea of being on the roof that was to most thrilling. We had found a place that no one else, but those who could do so legally, had explored. Of course, it goes with out saying that what we did was illegal. But perhaps thats why we did it. Theres a rush we all get from breaking the rules. And when you get away with doing so you can't help but come back for more. 

When we reached the far edge we sat down to rest. We tried to snap some pictures with my camera phone (Joshes was with Greg) but were extremely unsatisfied with the results. Being a photographer is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, you have the ability to take awesome pictures, but when you're without your camera, you see alot of interesting pictures you could have taken, should you have brought your camera with you. And that feeling sucks. The inablity feeling. 

I called a few friends to see if they could get me my camera. After a few tries with other people, I called Shari Hewes to ask for Rachel Berman's number, Shari's currently at college in Missouri. She texted me and I called Rachel, who was amazing enough to drive out to my house, pick up my camera (which my mom had left on the porch as per my request), and bring it to MEMs, where her friend [who's name is also] Rachel, climbed onto a shed and handed to me as I reached down to grab it. She also managed to throw us our shoes, which was a HUGE relief. We could run around and explore much faster. 

Now armed with a camera, we set about documenting our adventure. We continued to Explore for about an hour before jumping onto the shed, and back down to earth. I felt accomplished. We had done the impossible. I still can't believe we actually got up there. But I'm glad we did. It was an experience I won't soon forget. 

Music That I'm Listening to Right Now:

GIGABASS / Bike Rides with Logan

GIGABASS

It was a cloudy Wednesday on Carnegie Lake. Cloudy usually means good fishing, so as we unloaded the gear onto the boat launch dock, I had a good feeling about the day. The air was cool, and the usual summer heat had subsided under the cloud choked sky. Kurt and I left Dan on the dock to drive over to the canoe rental place a little under a mile upstream. Dan has recently become obsessed with catching carp, and though he hasn't been successful yet, he'll keep trying till he dies of pneumonia on some desolate fishing dock, on some lake that probably doesnt even have carp in it. It's a commendable undertaking I'll give him that. So anyway, Kurt and I rented the canoe, and we paddled back to the dock where Dan was. We loaded up the gear, strapped on the motor, and started fishing the left bank.

A few hours in, we were without fish and admittedly extremely bored. As we were crusing along towards the dam on the far side of the lake, Dan spotted a bright yellow object sticking out of the lake, near a small peninsula on the left bank. There was a short debate on whether or not to motor over and check it out, or to continue towards the dam. The fishing would supposedly be better there. I swung the motor around, and turned the canoe towards the yellow thing.

We came to a stop on the little peninsula, and to our surprise, a few feet from the bank in the

 shallow water lay a sunken sailboat! We decided to pull it out of the water and try to float it again. It took us a good 20 minutes, but we finally pulled the water logged boat out of the water. It was a mess, and some small fish had even been caught inside it. The rigging was in shambles and there was a big plant growing from where the rudder had once been. After sitting around and waiting for it to drain, we plugged up the only hole with a stick, and launched it back into the water. There wasn't much wind that day so we opted to tow the boat behind the canoe, Dan climbed aboard the salvaged vessel, and we continued to the dam. We must have looked hilarious. I was in my boxers because my shorts had been soaked in the rescue process, and dan had a circular floaty around his neck on the rotting sailboat. Kurt and I threw things at him and played pirate on the way to the dam. It was fun. Really.

We spent an hour or two at the dam. Not really fishing, but messing around catching crayfish and just collectively doing nothing. Idleness lead to boredom and soon we left to go fishing for real again. I caught a little bass on the right bank, which that greatly improved the mood, which was good, since the light rain that had started was dulling things. It instilled hope in is again. Whenever a fish gets pulled into the boat, it renews everyones drive to catch. Which was good, because soon that drive would finally pay off.

We left the right bank and crossed the big lake over to the left again. I don't remember exactly what I was saying when it happened. It caught me off guard. All of a sudden I felt weight on the line. It didnt feel like much but I could tell it was a fish. I didnt yell, but just said out loud 'fish on', as is our custom when we hook one. Then it happened. 

The bass exploded through the surface, and leapt into the air. Time slowed down and our jaws hung open as the image of the huge fish jumping etched itself into our heads. The fish was BIG. It was swimming towards the boat, thats why I didnt feel much. Instantly, we all scrambled into action, and the boat came to life again. He went under the boat, and I could feel the full force of his weight. Just as I though the rod, or the line, or my arms would break, I got the line under and free of the propeller, allowing me to fight the beast without of obstruction. We got him beside the boat. I was shaking the fish was so huge. I had never in my life seen a bass so gigantic. I kept screaming at Dan, who was trying to pull it into the boat "KHOMENKO IF YOU DONT LAND THIS FISH I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" over and over again. His teeth made him to sharp to grab at first, and in one final effort Dan reached in with both arms and hugged the fish into the boat. Then all hell broke loose.

I was still shaking as we all went crazy, screaming in celebration. It took us a while to calm down. We took lots of pictures and I put him in the livewell. But then I was torn with conflict. I couldn't decided whether to keep the colossal fish, or turn him loose to live. I fought an intense mental battle with myself. I really wanted to bring it home and show it off. But I felt really bad killing such an old and experienced fish. The marks around his mouth revealed that he had been caught and released before. Although he would have made a tasty meal, I decided to put him back. It felt good to watch him swim away back into the murky depths. Maybe someone else would catch him again. Maybe I would. Who knows. I guess thats why we go fishing anyways.

Bike Rides with Logan

Logan likes to ride his bike. He likes to go on long journeys across Manalapan. I dont know or understand why, but he does. So I go along with him occasionally. It's almost always an adventure. From watching Alex Villafane fall off and nearly die on a dark rural road, to almost getting run over by a blue chevy S1o, our bike rides are rarely boring. They just suck when you get tired of peddling. 

Today we rode to Baco's pizzeria. We had gone a few days ago and I got this slice of pizza with shrimp and corn and all this other stuff and it was DELICIOUS. I was very sad to find it not there anymore. The main Italian pizza guy said it was a special creation that he had only made that day. It was amazing. I settled for a Chicken/Peppers/Fresh Mozzarell. It was alright, but deffinitely not as tasty as the shrimp and corn slice. 

We rode over to Walmart, and as I crossed 537, a big highwayish road, the light went green, and several cars lurched forward. There was much honking and embarrasment. The blue S1o a lane down didnt stop. And We almost collided, my wet brakes were very unresponsive. I scurried off to walmart, where we walked around and I saw Richard Hinton. He works there. We talked briefly and I asked if they had any flare guns. They didnt. I was unhappy. 

Then we biked over to Dick's Sporting Goods. I bought some fishing stuff and we went home. Now I'm writing this blog. But I'm going to stop now cause theres Chinese food downstairs. Peace fool.

-Chris

Music I'm listening to right now:

Surfing, Dying, and Living. In LBI

LBI

Long Beach Island is just a place apart. We make day trips to the shore, and the sands of familiar beaches like Belmar and Avon grace our bare feet all too frequently. But shore towns like those just dont match the distant, slow paced and exciting world apart that is Long Beach Island, New Jersey. I'm so thankful for Sami, and the Saunders family for having us over every year. Its my only real vacation. I love it. Its such an escape from everything back in Manalapan, don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those "Oh I hate Manalapan, the people suck and everyone sucks and the world sucks and vaccumes suck...etc. etc. I can wait to get the eff out of this town!" people. I happen to like Manalapan, however, in the words of the great Tanqueray spokesman, Tony Sinclair "always in moderation"

So an escape from the dulldrums of everyday Manalapan life once in a while always comes as a welcome experience. The clean, uncrowded beaches, and the adventure and excitement that awaits within the towns all add to the magnificence and seperation from reality that I can only find here, amidst the still waters of the Barneget Bay, and the roaring surf of the mighty Atlantic, here, at LBI.

Surfing

I know I'm not the best surfer. It's my first year with my own board, and I've learned to take 4 foot waves without a problem and occasional 6 when things go my way. I love it. When everything falls into place, you're in just the right spot in the line up, and the wave breaks right where you need it to. You feel the board rush forward, as you strain and paddle with all your might, and that long anticiapted moment comes, you pop up, and ride that sucker into the sand. Its another one of those feelings I'll fight tooth and nail to obtain. And when I foolishly followed Danny Saunders, an experienced and exceptional surfer out into 13ft+ swells I found myself in scary and dangerous places, and good deal closer than I would like to have been from dying. So onto the next passage.

Dying

When I look back into the past, 2 distinct near death experiences come to mind. Falling out of a 2 story balcony in woodbridge at the ripe old age of 3, and falling through the ice at Lake Matawan, when I was about 8-10. Saturday, however, I added a third experience.

The talk was lively, as Danny and I made our way up the beach. We walked farther north to compensate for the strong southern current. I was in good spirits and eager to get out and catch some waves. Back from the beach the waves looked perfect, maxing out around 4-5ft. Perfect for me. As we walked our boards further our into the surf, the mood and relaxed banter slowly began to ebb with the receding tide.

The water became deeper, and at neck height, we were not even through the first set of whitewash. I swung myself onto the board and paddled vigoriously after Danny. Our progess was going well, when a larger wall of white water knocked me back 30 or so feet. Unphased I continued paddling. Then another hit me. And another. Danny was somehow getting past these, and I was getting swept back, making progress, but only to lose most of it to the surging waters. Danny grew smaller and smaller as the distance between us increased. I braced myself for another impact. The water hit, I felt myself tumbling, spray in my face, and the suck of water beneath me rushing me back towards shore. I looked up and saw a break in the waves, and a much needed rest from the constant bomabardment, without hesitation I seized the opportunity and paddled with all my might to try and seek refuge out past the breakers with the other surfers. After a long, draining journey, I was finally along side Danny.

I watched, humbled by the forces at work around me, as the huge swells lumbered westward, arcing and crashing down with size and force which I had never in my life seen before. As the current pulled us south, we had to constantly paddle against it, making 50 yard trips at a time, with maybe a minute or two of rest if I got lucky. Now please forgive me if this theory of mine is incorrect, but as to my current understanding of waves, and the workings of the ocean, the larger a wave is, the more powerful, and the father from shore it breaks.

As I struggled to tail Danny, I spotted a group of large waves heading my way. I paddled straight at them, to meet them before they broke and get over them safely. I barely made it over the first, and much to my horror, waiting for me on the other side, was a 15 foot wall of water, reaching its peak, and breaking into violent white water, not 30 yards before me. I didn't want another ruthles washing machine ride, and before I could scream, I bailed off my board, dove down, and clung to the ankle strap on my leash for dear life. Then it hit me. Not an Idea, not a brilliant thought, my board. I didnt dive far enough, and at full force, the wave carried the board towards me, and knocked me unconscious as I sank deep below the surf, pulled it past me, snapped the leash and carried it to the beach.

Google Images ^ (not actually me) If it was though, you wouldnt be reading this.

I awoke underwater, inside my eyelids. It was almost peaceful. The roar of the surf was gone, and the pounding waves couldn't touch me. I was tempted to stay. Bad idea. I let out a relieved breath of air, only to watched helpessly as the majority of my air supply bubbled to the surface. That was a mistake. I was maybe 20 feet down by the time I regained consciousness, and I swam with all my might for the surface. I didnt think I would make it. I began praying to God not to let me drown. I could feel myself getting light headed, and my brain was throbbing for air. Every muscle in my body was engaged in a epic struggle to save itself. I dreamt of all the things I would never do, have kids, grow old, love somebody. I wasn't ready to die. I had to live. And with this thought fresh in my mind I swam harder.

I could make out the shimmer of the surface. Just as my lungs were seemingly about to collapse, I broke through to the air, only to to draw in a half gulp of air and another half of water as another wave crashed down on me. I broke the surface again spitting up and gasping for air. I got myself stablized and calmned myself down. I began taking a mental inventory of my surroundings. I was still alive. I was still very far out. My board was gone and I would have to swim. Treading water, I spotted a kid on a longboard nearby. I shouted to him to inform Danny that my leash broke, and that I was going to try and swim for shore. With a look of deep concern, he wished me good luck.

I forced my aching arms to swim forward. I knew what I had to do. I pointed myself at the beach and swam for my life as the waves crashed over me, throwing me around like a ragdoll in the rinse cycle. After what seemed like an eternity, my feet hit the sand, and I waded over to Mrs. Saunders and Sami's Uncle Gary, holding the surfboard, and both very worried for me. Admitably I was very shaken up. I didnt want them to worry, and told them I was alright. I put on a brave face and assured them I was unharmed. I mean, physically I was fine, but I had been throttled quite thoroughly and my head was feeling the effects as I made my way onto sweet land.

The broken Leash

I was quiet for awhile. Thanking God and wondering what it would be like to not be able to have kids, grow old, and love somebody, and how very lucky I was to still have those opportunites. I was glad to breathe. The air honestly tasted sweeter. I sat there on the beach and chuckled to myself. A singluar word slipped past my lips. Under my breath and almost grinning I heard myself whisper "damn."

Living

We went to bay village to hang around and eat later that day. The food was amazing. Props to Alicia Crupi for picking the awesome restaurant. We sat down by the shops after dinner, and this guy came over and made a really loud bird noise at us and walked away. He was traveling with a flock of common NJ tools. He came back later and took his shirt off. Not wanting him to be self conscious I joined him. We walked around bay village, and went on the sea dragon, LBI's version of six flag's Bucaneer. (The ship thing that goes back and forth) Afterwards we sat down by the bay and relaxed. It was a fun way to end the day. As I sat looked out across the water it hit me again. Thankfully not a surfboard this time, but that summer feeling. You know about that if you read my last post, but yeah. LBI reeks of that feeling. Its everywhere. Maybe because its so far from my parents, work, and the everydayness of Manalapan, but its here. And I love it.

- Chris

Music I'm listening to right now: