The best testimonies are personal ones. By day I am the Compliance Manager of a major financial institution. My staff and I keep track and implement hundreds of government rules covering every single aspect of our operations. Financial Services is one of the most highly regulated industries, and for good reason. Financial institutions hold all the money, everybody’s money, your money. The vast majority of financial regulations are there to protect the customer, from both thieves and from the banks themselves.
Part of the outcry from Middle America is government regulation is stifling business’s ability to thrive. Product quality controls, OSHA standards, overtime rules, and environmental impact are expensive, but it’s not hard to understand why these are important. On the other hand, there appears to be a huge disconnect when it comes to the regulation of financial services.
One of the most damning claims against Hillary Clinton during the campaign was how she befriended the big banks that were responsible for the 2009 economic collapse. But you need to look a little deeper. Clinton has always been an ally of Elizabeth Warren who is a chief champion of more government banking regulation to prevent crises like 2009. Warren was the original choice to head the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau. The CFPB has forced banks to use proper underwriting on loans so folks don’t get ripped off, and prices reflect real values instead of bubbles. This is an expensive proposition for banks, but it means a fair deal for you. Why would Clinton endorse this kind of limitation if she was in fact in the pocket of the big banks?
Part of diplomacy is to sit down with your enemies and get to know them. Sometimes you even need to tell them what they want to hear to get them to the bargaining table. During the campaign I saw posts from the Right accusing her of agreeing with the humanitarian abuses of the Saudi government based on pictures of her being polite with diplomats. Never mind that she spent her entire career fighting for human rights. So I was not surprised or upset to read the leaked transcripts of her speeches with bankers behind closed doors. Yes, the biggest banks, the ones who run Wall Street, are still getting away with too much. But the CFPB was the agency that busted Wells Fargo for ripping off millions of customers in a credit card scam last month.
The Trump Administration will act in concert with the Republican controlled Congress to disband the CFPB. This has been a very high priority of Republican Congressional leaders (right behind Obamacare) for many years. Expect the ax to fall by March 2017. Congressional leaders are already scheduling legislation to disband Medicare. OSHA will be next, along with the EPA. This is what Middle America voted for.
It may be too little too late, but Middle America needs to understand that well-heeled, well-entrenched industries are not our friends. They do not create jobs for Middle America, and they cannot be trusted not to rip us off. The housing bubble burst of 2009 and more recently the millions of folks ripped off by Wells Fargo, are things that happened while the government thought it had a handle on things. That handle is about to be let go.
A politician doesn’t have to cozy up with bankers to let them get away with robbing America. In fact, appearing to cozy up to them is probably maneuvering for tactical advantage. No, you let the big banks rob America by gutting the regulations that keep them in check. Yes, the very thing Clinton was berated for is exactly what Trump is about to do.
So what can we do now? Move your money out of the big banks into community banks and credit unions that have a charter to service communities, not shareholders and not Wall Street. Watch for shenanigans and write to your Congresspeople whenever you see the big banks ripping off their customers. Demand fair treatment and clear disclosures any time you deal with a bank. They have your money, they need to work for you. Talk to your neighbors and make sure they understand that voting for politicians who give away our protections are selling out to big money and not acting in our best interest.
Regulatory overreach is a thing. Compliance with government rules can be expensive. So vote for politicians who understand how to craft fair and reasonable rules that don’t shut down business but still protect people from unregulated greed.
My expertise is in financial services, but this same pattern is true of product safety, work safety, environmental safety, healthcare, and all the areas where government puts rules on business.
The Devil is in the details. Headlines and internet memes do not tell enough details to inform people to make good choices. Keeping business thriving and people safe at the same time is called governance. People, all of our people, have to understand how critically important it is for government to find that balance. Middle America has come to believe we have let the pendulum swing too far to safety to the detriment of business. They see jobs disappearing with no apparent advantage to the safety regulations bring. So now the pendulum is swinging way too far the other way, and people are going to get hurt.
“Moderates” sounds boring, but extremists do not strike the essential balance that leads to everyone thriving. The next time you hear a politician say we need to eliminate something or tighten down on something, ask yourself if that will achieve the balance of safety and business. If their aim is to drive too far one way or the other, call them out on it. We do not need to choose between safe unemployed people and employed but injured and ripped off people. We can have it both ways. But only if our electorate keeps its politicians on target.
I was a free man in Paris
I felt unfettered and alive
No one calling me up for favors
No one’s future to decide
You know I’d go back there tomorrow
But for the work I’ve taken on
Stoking the star making machinery
Behind the popular songs.
– Joni Mitchell
My wife has been aching to go to Paris for the entire 20 years we’ve been married. I have never had any objection to going. I like to travel. On the other hand, I didn’t know enough about Paris to ever develop an interest. I was also concerned that my wife had grown so much baggage, invested so much anticipation, the reality of going might be a let down. So when the trip came up as a possible way to celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary, I threw my enthusiasm behind it, determined that if we were going to do this, we would do it right.
We dropped the big dime on Business Class so we would not arrive exhausted. We took enough tech so she could run her business on the road, which meant she could enjoy herself not worrying about lost deals back home. I also understand big experiences are made up of small moments. So to maximize the Paris experience, I quietly made sure she got the window seats and the seats that faced the best sightseeing and people watching. I did not deny myself anything. I got to see and do everything fully. On the other hand, I wasn’t the one with a dream to live up to.
I think the thing I least understood about Paris is its complexity. The crisscrossing one way crowded streets, the over-complicated metro rail system, the reliance the language puts the slightest inflection and pronunciation, the cosmopolitan melting pot of races and places of origin. After a few days, what had first looked like a blur began to emerge as an impossibly intricate clockwork, like the magnum opus of an obsessed engraver; the longer you look, the more you see and the more it makes sense.
Moreover, I realized the thing that holds it all together, the answer to why all these people come from all over the world to live with the noise and the high prices and the frustrations, is their joy. Everyone is just so happy to be a part of Paris.
You can see it in their faces. They get off work and hang out with friends, filling up bistros on sidewalks, not eating dinner until nine or ten, as if they don’t want to let the day end without one more round of celebration. Despite the insane tangle that masquerades as a street map, taxi drivers are genuinely courteous to one another. Pedicab drivers laugh at themselves for getting stuck in wrong way traffic. Waiters maintain a level of service that far outstrips the fact that tipping is unusual. Folks hold impromptu dance parties on the river bank. Parisians just love being in Paris. And it is infectious.
Picturesque? Beautiful? Fascinating? Yes. Yes. Yes. Romantic? Clearly. But when they call Paris the City of Love, a big piece of that is the love the people have for their city. I’ve seen and lived in a lot of cities. I have never seen or felt this vibe on this scale before except in places where employees are paid to look happy like Disneyland.
On my last full day in Paris I found myself reflecting on how I would transition back to my usual life. I don’t take vacations often enough to be familiar with exiting and re-entering my life in progress. The song lyrics above randomly floated into my mind and I realized I had been swept up in the joy that is Paris. I also realized how little of that joy was in my usual life.
I take on too much responsibility. I joke that I can’t complain about the difficulties in my life because I make all my own trouble. I firmly believe we are primarily limited by self doubt. At the same time I feel obligated to honor this gift of intelligence I was given by doing something constructive with it. So I pick up the slack. For everyone. My wife is on call 24/7, so I often act as a single parent to our two active daughters. My own job has me assisting literally everyone in the company to get their projects done within government specifications. I exercise my hero complex on my own time too, whether it is having someone over to dinner nearly every week, or helping a friend finish a costume before a show, or writing advice for aspiring writers, I find great satisfaction being the grease in other people’s machines. I also try to leave the world a better place through my storytelling.
While all of this activity pushes my usefulness buttons, I have come to see that satisfaction is not joy. Late at night when everything is done and everyone is asleep and I sit down to commit my thoughts to paper, like now, the fun I have and the warm fuzzies I feel are from doing something. The joy of Paris was to just be in Paris. Is it possible to be happy just being in your life?
Diversions bring joy without work. Watching a film or a game, reading a book, or hanging out with friends all bring an effortless happiness. Growing up near a coast, I recall wiling away hours on the beach. But even these things require going somewhere and exiting your usual life for a spell.
Is appreciation the key to finding joy in just being in your life? Does counting your blessings and checking your privilege give you a better perspective to see how happy you should be?
Was it the buzz? Lord knows my sphere of contact in the Bay Area is as busy as central Paris, even if I can, by contrast, navigate it adroitly. Lost or not, I don’t think the buzz was what set Paris apart.
I do hope you’re not expecting me to solve this puzzle because I do not have a solution. Maybe it is unsolvable because it’s not Paris but rather the way I have learned to live my life.
When Superman isn’t helping other people, by rescuing treed kittens or repelling alien invasions, he enjoys loving Lois Lane and visiting his mom on her farm. He is capable of so much, in his down time how does he decide not to do anything and just be happy?
The Dalai Lama, who I do believe has lived fourteen lives and retained all that wisdom, says our purpose on Earth is to be happy. He defines happy in the highest ethical standards of harming no one or anything, and he talks a lot about leaving the world a better place than you found it. On the other hand, all eight Buddhist paths (right speech, right thought, right work, etc.) require doing something.
What combination of right attitude, right appreciation, and right perspective brings you to a nirvana of taking a big breath full of simply glad-to-be-here?
I do not want to unpack my life of obligations. Adulting is hard but very satisfying. Even though I am inevitably the one who picks up the dirty dishes, I honestly do not resent folks taking a break when there is work to be done. Sometimes it’s okay for work to wait. People need breaks. I take breaks. Breaks lead to rest, not joy.
I was chatting with a friend who has been to Paris a few times and loves it. He summed up the Parisian joie d’vie saying, “They know how to live.” One of the 400 pictures I took was an empty bottle sitting on a curb at the north Paris flea market. It was Vieve Cliquet champagne.
Although I am still processing all of this, I think I may have found a starting place. They say a journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step. This axiom is only useful if you know where you’re going. My first step is to re-prioritize. Yes, there will still be 150 mile days of running the kids to too many activities while still working. But instead of spending the unexpected free half hour catching up on Facebook, there will be more poetry reading, lovemaking, and wine drinking. Instead of staying up late trying to get one more thing done to make the day count, there will be more listening to music and cuddling the cat. I don’t think I will find the contentment I seek unless I first slow down and stop constantly challenging myself to do more. Less can be more. Tomorrow is another day. Today doesn’t have to have skid marks on it for tomorrow to start well. We’ll see if an accomplishment junkie can find happiness purposely accomplishing less.
As much as less sounds like a working key to happiness, I have to be honest about how I spent that enlightened week in Paris. I was busy. We saw a museum and took in sights every day. We were in motion all the time. We had to buy better walking shoes for my wife. Yet the joy seeped into me all the same.
There was a difference. Being addicted to “done” and being the parent of teens, I work logistics like an air traffic controller. If something slips off the rails I normally stress until I can juggle a new sequence into place. When we were in Paris, setbacks upset our plans several times. A Metro line we were recommended to was on strike for the summer. A church we planned to see closed earlier than we thought. That put us in a distant part of the city with nothing to do.
Somehow these interruptions did not trigger the usual stress. We were, after all, still in Paris. We could reshuffle our itinerary and find something else to see or do. When an entire city is your candy store, ending up in an unplanned aisle is an unexpected treat, not a ruined day.
So the difference was flexibility. I don’t normally have flexibility around when the kids need to be at school or at practice. My boss is pretty easy going, but I don’t really get to exercise flexibility around when I go to work. Then there’s mealtime. My family wants dinner, every damn night, like I don’t have anything better to do. I may make the schedules, but I can only schedule around fixed points in time (Doctor Who much?).
Here I am trying to accomplish a formula for finding Parisian joy in my daily life, only to find the key may be something I have systematically removed from my life by taking on responsibilities that make my life complete. Bummer. While it may be a useful tip to build in flexibility, it’s not helpful to discover this after the fact.
Less each day would allow room for more flexibility. Flexibility gives room to dodge stressful road blocks. Less stress leaves more room to appreciate life and let in joy. I may not have this all figured out yet, but I now have an hypothesis.
So I will remember Paris, but not wistfully or longingly. I hope to go back, but I will not miss it. I will remember the joy it showed me, and use that memory to remind myself to make room for that joy in my life until I return.
Leonardo da Vinci famously said, “Art is never finished, only abandoned.” I disagree.
When you start a work, you have something in mind, something you want it to look like when it’s done, something you hope it will say. You don’t know what that something will turn out to be, but you want it badly enough to commit to the effort of making it happen. If it is a large work, like an oil painting, or a stone sculpture, or a novel, that will take a lot of thought, time, and decision making, then you have to plan it out first, subdivide and sequence the work, or you’ll never make any progress. Each decision you make gives you more to work with. At every step, you revisit your original inspiration to stay on track. If the work takes you somewhere undiscovered, then you change directions and run with it. Even then, though, you have a direction, a goal, that something you want it to do.
If you have kept your objective in mind throughout the creative process, then you will know when you’re done. That sounds easy to say, and it is indeed harder to do, but it is not the impossible moving target Leonardo lamented.
Leonardo did set a high water mark for perfectionism. He kept coming back and tinkering with his paintings over periods of years, sometimes as many as fifteen. The problem with taking that long is you yourself change over time and you’re looking at the work with a different perspective fifteen years later. Your “younger phase” works are every bit as legitimate as your “older phase” works. If you just keep rehashing the same work over and over, then none of the rest of us will ever get to see what you have been doing all this time. And you won’t grow as an artist.
So how does one know when to stop? As an independent writer I am both cursed and blessed with no deadlines. I don’t have to hope it’s good enough while making a deadline, but I also have to fight the temptation to keep going back and fixing one more thing. I have tried setting deadlines for myself. Deadlines are very useful. I used to do competition costuming. Getting the work done in time for the show was a way of life for me for many years. In my career work, I often find that nothing motivates like a deadline. If you have a publisher waiting for you to finish, by all means deliver.
I am talking about that inner feeling, that “knowing” a piece is complete. Walk with me, for a moment, through the steps an “almost completed” work has already gone through. You started with the inspiration. Then you collected information and started making decisions. At some point you had a clear enough vision that you decided to commit. Then you gathered your materials, your research, your references. By then your enthusiasm was brimming. You started the actual construction, making decisions about what to put in and what to leave out. You got enough done that the work started giving you feedback about where to go next. You started imaging what it might look like when it was done. All through this work you have been touching base with your original inspiration and making any course corrections. Then came the day when you saw past the unfinished corners, through the unclear shadings, and knew what this piece was supposed to look like. You and time and your materials had made all the compromises and reached an accord. It wasn’t done, but you knew what done should look like.
Then you stalled. You started worrying about whether the finished piece would live up to the potential you saw. You wondered whether all the time and effort you put into it so far was going to show in the finished piece. The dark night of artist’s despair sank over you, and you stopped.
How do I know? This happens to all of us. Do not feel bad about it.
What usually follows is this. You pick yourself up and tell yourself it will be great, that you’re not a failure, and you start working to finish it. But you aren’t really finishing it. You are dawdling with it. You are fixing things that need fixing. You are moving it very slowly toward done, just because you are adding hours to it. But you missed something vital.
You didn’t go back to your original inspiration. Your dark night of despair left you not trusting your original inspiration. Get over it. You have to make yourself go back and believe in your original inspiration again. Pick up the mojo, embrace it, rebuild that enthusiasm that convinced you to commit in the first place.
You now have a clearer vision than when you started, yet finishing feels impossibly far away. You’ve made thousands of decisions that you can lean on and move ahead. The trick is to decide what you still need to do. That also means deciding what you are not going to include. You must recite this magical incantation: What else did I ever want this to do? Is it as fun as you wanted? It is as scary as you wanted? Is it as heartfelt as you wanted? Make yourself come up with a finite answer of what is still missing. This becomes your to-finish list. Then you get back to work with an achievable goal.
Some art forms lend themselves to feedback. It is all too easy after many hours invested to get too close to the fish to see the ocean. Find people who care about the medium you’re working in and get their honest opinion of what works and what does not. Their “fix this” list goes into your to-finish list.
Also listen to the piece you have built so far. In novel, listen to the characters when they tell you where they want the story to go. In a sculpture or a painting, look at where the piece leads the eye and make that work for the whole piece. Use the work so far as feedback for how to finish.
For this to work, you must be heartlessly realistic about what the piece does not need to include in order to be done. One way to never finish is to think of the piece as your masterwork that must tell the world your whole philosophy. Keep piling on requisites and it will become the neverending project.
Keep focused on what you were trying to do in the first place. Incorporate all the feedback, both from critics and from the piece itself. Polish all the rough edges so nothing throws the audience out of experiencing the piece. Do these things and there will soon come a day when you will see you have captured the essence of what you started out to say. On that day you will realize that any other changes you are tempted to make are not going to add anything to the success of the piece. It does everything it was supposed to do. You can allow yourself one last time to ask, “What else did I ever want this to do?” Chances are really good the answer will be “Nothing.”
That’s what done feels like.
Been a while since I posted any progress on Isis Rising. Been busy with Snow, but still been cooking Book Three on low heat. I’m happy to report it’s time to turn the heat up again. Just cleared page 100. And I’ve found a song to help. Music is a huge inspiration for me. For The Chosen it was Behind Blue Eyes by The Who. For Daughter Cell it was Paint It Black by The Rolling Stones. For Isis Rising it looks to be River by Bishop Briggs. Have a listen and let yourself get swept away.
Wherein yours truly once again innovates in a bubble, entertains widely, but leaves folks scratching their heads.
On Sunday, at the Baycon science fiction convention, I gathered a half dozen of the musicians who performed on The Mirror’s Revenge original cast album and led a CD release concert. That would have been the normal thing to do, and that’s what the audience of about 70 expected. But I wanted to show off the entire work, not just the music. In the tradition of musical theatre, you can follow the basic story by listening to the songs. I figured, while I’ve got an enthusiastic audience, why not also tell them the whole story that goes with the songs. I also thought to make it a party, with dancing, since most of the music is waltzes. So we had the hotel install a dance floor. I ran a slide show of images to help the audience follow the story. I even rented a fairy tale wedding carriage for folks to take their pictures in.It was going to be a chance to live the fairy tale at a multimedia event folks would never forget.
So I put on my best William Shakespeare and narrated the story from the beginning, in order to the slides, with the band playing the songs at the appropriate places. People were fascinated. So fascinated they never got up to dance or take their pictures in the carriage. I made a break between acts and folks bought lots of the CDs, so I can only assume they liked what they heard. To be as impartial as I can, my partners in creative crime, Margaret Davis and Kristoph Klover, have created a soundtrack for my play that exceeds my wildest dreams. The Chair of the convention approached me at the break and asked whether I had made it clear this was supposed to be a dance. I had, but they weren’t interested in dancing. Yet the event was clearly a success. Very few folks left at the break.
After the performance, many folks came up and thanked the band members for their fine playing and singing. Then they came over to me and said they loved the story. They also said the presentation initially confused them, that until they got into it, they didn’t know what to make of it.
I later saw pictures taken from the audience’s point of view, and I now see I rather overwhelmed them. My fifteen year old, who likes to dance, observed that after every three or four minute song, the music would stop and I would tell some more story. She pointed out at dances, the band plays back to back for ten or fifteen minutes and folks stay out on the dance floor. I also now see where the slideshow, while it got a few good laughs and did its job of assisting the story, was indeed a visual impediment to anyone spinning around dancing.
A cardinal rule of the stage is to never do anything that breaks the audience’s suspension of disbelief. A stage hand moving a prop at the edge of a scene will rip an audience out of the bubble the actors are working hard to maintain. I did not think adding new ways for the audience to live the performance would distract from the story being told. It seems to have required more effort from the audience to find the rhythm of what we were doing. It was inadvertently more experimental than expected.
The audience did find the rhythm. Although I’m sorry I made everyone work so hard, I’m really pleased they got into it. There were a couple of missteps, and there was at least one large missed cue on my part, but the audience followed along happily. So the experiment worked. That does not mean I’m going to repeat it.
I think I will follow the example of storytellers and actors, and give the audience one thing to concentrate on at a time. It’s easier to hold their interest, and you can tell if you’re losing them. Traditional theatre does this. The same actors who are telling the story, sing the songs, and provide the visuals that help the story along. It all gets covered, and the audience only has to follow one thing, the actors.
I have seen what is called experimental theatre. I used to think it was odd mixings of media, like opera singers providing the dialogue for ballet dancers. But “experimental” usually means stories told out of sequence, or told by characters you would not expect to be the Point Of View characters. Even artsy challenging juxtaposition pieces try to keep the audience focused on the message being attempted. Very few risk giving the audience opportunities to be distracted by different things being thrown at them.
I wasn’t trying to invent a new kind of theatre experience. I just tried too hard, and ended up making my audience work to keep up. I am very pleased that folks stuck around and got what I was trying to tell them. I think I will leave media innovation to folks who work with tech. Things like web comix, MMP games, and VR theatre have met with enthusiasm. Good for them. I will remain happy simply to add Playwright to my business card.
Get two or more science fiction authors together for more than five minutes and they will start trading theories on why dystopian fiction is so popular. It is, but no one knows exactly why. Are people thrilled to visit bad times and be glad their lives aren’t so bad? Have people lost faith in tomorrow and want to explore our options? Are post-apocalyptic stories appealing because all the crowds are gone, or because tough times would offer more opportunities for heroism? Maybe it’s all of these, and others, or none.
One thing we can point to with certainty is how this genre contributes to the backlash against intellect. Intellectuals are nearly always the ones responsible for the downfall of civilization. Some egghead figures out how to subjugate humanity. Some egghead unleashes a biohazard. Some egghead tries to rob the system and breaks it for everyone else. If this wasn’t bad enough, the heroes of these stories almost always win the day with heart and not thought. Heroism, faithfulness, and integrity are portrayed as the antidotes to unrestrained curiosity and self-interested scheming.
In the Golden Age of science fiction, threats were exigent enemies that could only be defeated with intellect. Heart and firepower alone were useless against the ravages of space, alien invaders, or technology run amok. Educated thinking applied with a healthy dose of competency porn would find the solution and save the day.
As much as we fans loved those stories, the general public never bought into the notion that scientists were going to save us all. The public saw plenty of evidence to the contrary, with the atomic bomb, oil spills, and breaches of medical ethics. There is a reason why hard science fiction was always and will always be a very small market segment.
More importantly, we have recent and compelling reasons not to trust intellectuals. When the economy failed, Congress called in the heads of Wall Street banks to explain their role and to justify their ludicrous commissions. The bankers didn’t bat an eye. They hire only the best and the brightest who deserve disproportionate pay. They play a vital role in the economy and we should all be glad we have them managing the economy for us, regardless of how they crashed it with unmitigated greed.
The novel I want to see is where the security guard standing behind the banker is smart enough to see through the lies, pulls out his gun and caps the bastard.
Wouldn’t that feel good?
That’s the problem.
When real life paints intellectuals as evil, it only makes sense people would flock to a genre of fiction that has perfected the formula. How far has this gone? Check the box office. Check the bestseller lists. Ask random people around your workplace. Everyone loves a rousing dystopian tale, even hard science fiction fans who believe in intellect.
So is dystopian fiction causing a backlash against intellect? No, but it is fanning the flames. We are at the endgame of a social engineering experiment that started in the 1960s. The Republican Party saw an opportunity in the wake of the Civil Rights movement to win over disgruntled white Southern voters who had historically voted Democratic. This tactic of appealing to people’s baser instincts proved successful, and became the model for divisive politics ever since. Strategists were able to paint silver spoon candidates as everymen by playing negative cards such as racism, classism, and anti-intellectualism. The irony of our times is that evil intellectuals are gathering support from folks who have been bred by those intellectuals to hate intellectuals.
I have no solutions. I have to clench my teeth, grip tight my faith in Jefferson’s majority rule, and hope a majority of people in the upcoming election will see the manipulation for what it is. This is not a foregone result.
As writers we should be aware of the impact we have on the public. There is a lot of money to be made in dystopia right now. But unless you want to see it come to be, I can only plead for you to think twice before you paint another coat of hate on your intellectual bad guys.
Note: Until I can figure out how to get the RSS feeds to work from my new website, I will continue to post from here. Please visit my new site to stay up to date on all my projects. Thank you for your support! jaywrites.com
I have moved jaywrites.com to a new site and expanded it to include everything I have had scattered over the old Chosen promo site, WordPress, Facebook, Amazon, and GoodReads. Everything ME is now all in one place at jaywrites.com.
With that in mind, this will probably be my last blog entry here on WordPress. I will leave this site up as an archive of many years of sharing and working things out with you. Many of my essays and articles only exist here. This has been a good space, but now I need to build one strong house under one roof.
Please come visit jaywrites.com. And visit often – I will have an active presence there updating all the projects I have going. (The Mirror’s Revenge, Isis Rising, and Mermaid Steel are just the one’s I’ve told you about so far.)