Love-Hating on Everything

I love-hate my love-hate relationships.  And, not to brag or anything, but I have a lot of them.

Fingernails, shopping, road trips, booze...  I mean, there's really a lot to love-hate about all these things.

However, the biggest love-hate relationship I have is with social media.

I'm a fan of the Gram.  I am twitterpated with Twitter.  I can't help myself!!!

The "hate" part of my relationship with social media stems from the "train wreck" quality of it all.  It's so bad, but I cannot seem to look away.  Before I know it, I've emptied half my battery and two hours of my time looking through one of my friend's old Tweets or through the photos of some random hashtag category on the Gram.  Then I spiral into a guilt-fueled depression as I think of all the things I could have done with that time.

I spend most of my day applying to jobs (seriously, will someone please hire me?!), but when I take a break to respond to a message, to read emails for my internship, or to check the time, I can't keep myself from seeing if there is anything new in my feed.

Since I have signed up for the Gram and the Twitter, my hobbies have really taken a hit as far as dedication goes.  I don't read nearly as much as I used to, and I can physically feel my muscles atrophying by the second.  I still make time for the other things I enjoy (such as reading), but my social media accounts definitely distract me from more mentally fulfilling pursuits.

This is where the "love" comes in, I guess.  It's the immediacy that I like.  I--like the rest of society--enjoy being entertained every second of the day.  Whether my old schoolmates at Penn State are hating on their lengthy assignments, my friends from Texas are posting about life's milestones, or my buddy in West Virginia is making fun of everyone we know (I'm lookin' at you, Pru!), I like keeping up with what is going on with the people I am close with.

I wholeheartedly admit that I am an internet creep.  I have never stalked someone with obsessive or aggressive intentions, but I just like seeing new things (and sometimes old things from the archives) and checking out what's going on with the people I care about.

What it boils down to is that I love being in the loop.  I also love having a reason to share all my selfies, because I am obsessed with myself(ie).  I think that, when used correctly, social media is a great platform to build relationships with other people and to feel validated about your own decisions.  I like to make jokes, I like to uplift spirits, I like to upload pics of my dog.  I am able to do all of these things (and more!) thanks to social media and the internet.

I don't think I'll ever ditch the Gram or the Twitter.  (Facebook is a different story.)  For as much as I believe that social media is glucose-dense brain candy that is going to give us so much mental diabetes, I can't help myself.  I definitely know that I could kick it and be done with it all, but the thing is that I don't want to.

At the end of the day, social media is always going to be one of those things that I love to hate and hate to love.

If you are a member of the Twitterverse or Gramnation, follow me!  I'd love your thoughts on older posts, and I'm definitely open to suggestions for things you'd like to hear me gripe about. :)  Shoot me a Tweet or a DM and let me know you're a reader.  And, of course, I'm all about that follow back life!
How Tweet of you!  Shoot me a message on the Twitter @jesshank
You've double-tapped your way into my heart! Hit me up on the Gram @facechopp

April Tomfoolery

Surprisingly enough, I'm not an April Fools Day hater.  I won't even complain about it.

Okay, maybe I lied.  I will complain a little bit.

I am a huge fan of holidays.  While I have never really been a prankster, I have never been an AFD Scrooge, either.  As long as people don't get carried away with their pranks, I think that it's just one of those "all in good fun" things.

I'm generally not a target of practical jokes, which is probably good because--depending on the severity of the prank--my reaction could be pretty unpredictable.  Although, you think I'd be an expert at this kind of thing by now...

Sometimes I feel like every day of my life is AFD and all these cosmic jokes are being played on me by the Universe.  I say all the time that my life is a joke and that it isn't real.  But these statements don't come from a negative place--it's just so much funny stuff happens to me that my life is one walking ha-ha moment after the next and that some of the crazy things that happen to me are so far-fetched that I disbelieve that they are actually even real.

I can't help the weird things that life throws at me.  I just choose to roll with the punches and laugh stuff off instead of being overwhelmed by it all.  I'm a funny girl: I notice funny things, I make humorous comparisons, and I am an expert-level hyperbole user.

Of course there are things in my life that suck.  I keep waiting for that "APRIL FOOLS!" moment where all this dead weight is cut loose and the joke that is unemployed singledom is finally over.  But until then, I'm just gonna keep my chin up and laugh along with what is going on around me.  After all, nobody likes a sad clown.

I'm Not Good at Boys

I have had one relationship, so it's pretty apparent that I am not the greatest at boys/boyfriends/"talking to" boys/flirting/having dates with boys.

It doesn't really bother me that I'm not good at Boyology, it bothers me why I'm not good at it.

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"Woe is me!  Woe are we!" cries the chorus of boys in dismay.  "We don't know what women want!"

Here's the thing: it isn't that hard.  If guys would just stop making things so complicated, then life would just be so much easier for girls like me.

Though, I guess I can't blame it all on them.  Girls definitely like to twist things around.  But, again, that whole situation makes things hard for me.

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I think everyone has "trust issues," and I think that is totally normal.  The problem with trust issues is that they are usually unfair and that they are made by a really vicious cycle.

Somewhere, sometime, some manipulative lady milked some nice guy for everything he was worth and then blew him off.  Then that guy started drinking and blaming all the world's problems on women, and then all of this guy's equally drunk friends started making mountains out of mole hills and jumped on the bandwagon.

The coquettish broad who strung the nice guy along completely displaced all the blame from herself in a wine-fueled powwow with her closest friends.  After many compliments on how beautiful, wonderful, smart, vivacious, and better-off-without-him she was, every lady in the group realized that self-victimization was the Number One way to get compliments, which--as we know--makes women feel empowered.

After that, boys were suspicious and girls were too needy.  Subsequently, we now have chocolate-covered everything.

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I'm not saying that I'm perfect (even though I actually kind of am).  I know I make mistakes; I know I get weepy sometimes; I know I am hard to read.  I also know that I don't play games, and I really don't know why anyone would want to.

I have a genuine lack of concern for going through phones, creeping social media (for anything except a recreational pastime), and knowing where a dude is 24/7.  While I think this is one of my better qualities, I think it's something that makes boys suspicious of me.

It's not that I don't care: it's that I don't have the time (or desire) to keep tabs on someone.  The way I see it is you're either involved or you're not: if you have that little trust for someone that you need to perpetually check up on them, then maybe you need to reevaluate your involvement.

Of course I think that trust should be earned over time, but not because I have roll-over doubts from the last guy I dated (who, by the way, was a total dingus).  That isn't fair.  Every guy is different, so you can't chalk them all up on the same rubric that you formulated from your first failed relationship.  

There's a difference between wising up and being a distrustful little shrew.

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This brings me back to the point I was making about "it being hard for me."  Instead of learning from past experiences (especially the bad ones), I have realized that most people dwell on them.  There is a huge difference between dwelling on something and learning from it.  Because people aren't willing to move past the past, they miss out on new opportunities by projecting old problems on new situations.  

I think the reason humans have a hard time trusting each other is because we can't let go of the bitterness and negativity in our lives.  It is really hard to move past things, especially when they are negative experiences.  It's kind of like that saying that goes "once you learn a new word, you'll start hearing it everywhere" because you've been attuned to it.  It's a fall of innocence, if you will.  It is really hard to trust people after you have been betrayed.

Maybe my naivety makes me look stupid or manipulative, even though it comes from a positive place.  Maybe because I am too trusting, it makes me come off as untrustworthy.  I don't know.  I am attributing my failure in Boyology to that, because I really don't know what else it could be.  I'm not shirking any ownership of my negative qualities (as if I actually had any), I just genuinely have no better explanation (except that maybe I'm a little too Type-A and also a little non-committal).

Either way, I think that solid relationships (whether familial, friendly, or romantic) succeed when people are on the same page as far as trust goes.  It's not my fault that I'm not always trusted: sometimes people just aren't as trusting from the jump as I am, and that is totally okay.  I choose to be trusting because I choose not to be encumbered by my past--I'd rather take a few lumps and gain a few pearls of wisdom than never get hurt and never learn anything new.

It is exasperating for me that I don't always play my cards right with guys, but I'm really proud that I always stay level-headed and honest.  Even if someone else disappoints me, at least I am confident in the fact that I can trust myself and stay true to who I am.  At the end of the day, I guess that's more important than being good at Boyology, anyway.

SWF, 22, Seeks Immediate Change

The only thing I hate about old people is that they tell you not to worry about stuff.

"You're still young.  You have time."

The reason this bothers me so much lately is that I have lived for almost an entire year after graduating from one of the best universities and I am, alas, still seeking employment that will actually pay my bills.  Why?

Since I'm still young, I guess I'm not afflicted with the finite pressures of time.  Or maybe it's just that I have lots more time to waste...

I'm literally at my breaking point.  I got an email today from a company that informed me that I was not offered the job, which is fine, because I prefer to know that I'm no longer being considered instead of putting all my fragile little hopeful eggs into a basket of deceit.  However, the thing that made my blood boil over it was the cheery and condescending blurb at the end that wished me better luck at the next place I applied to.

Like, thank you?

To add insult to injury, I was reminded that I am stuck living in a dinky town that I loathe with every fiber of my being.  Since I'm unemployed (I love my internship, but it is unpaid *ten million tears*), I don't have the resources to get out of this situation.  So I have been stalling and feeling perpetually panicked about my life going nowhere (based on my track record, let's be honest).

I have changed my tactics repeatedly and gotten creative with my resources.  The sucky thing is, though, that it is all out of my hands--I can't make someone hire me, even though my resume is amazing.  I'm a pretty patient person, but I am also driven by intention, so I hate endlessly waiting around.  Therefore, twiddling my thumbs and watching job postings for almost a year has been soul-crushingly exhausting for me.  (Not to mention that sitting at my computer for hours on end to fill out applications has essentially given me glaucoma and muscle atrophy.)

So I guess you could say my complaint of the day is stalling.  I'm 22, single (ugh, don't even get me started), bored out of my freaking mind, and (honestly) pretty disappointed with my life so far.  But I am doing the best with what I have, which, I guess, is really all I can do.

I Need the Antidote for All These Anecdotes.

All right, guys.  My first official gripe sesh is about to commence.  If you know me at all, you will understand why I chose this particular topic.  If you do not really know me that well, then I would like to welcome you into my life and introduce you to who I am at the most elemental level.

One of my absolute biggest pet peeves is abuse...

...of syntax.

As a writer/editor/reader/copy editor, it physically pains me to see the abuse of written language.  Run-on sentences look like chain gang prisoners, wayward semicolons are like lost children, and misspelled words are the sad eyes of caged animals who are looking into my soul and beckoning for my help.  I see every single one of them, and I want to help them all.

Do you not understand that I am effectively affected with every misused word?

Are you not aware when your participles are dangling?

Did no one teach you that semicolons are not confetti for you to sprinkle all over your sentences just to make them look pretty?

I believe that possessives and contractions are definitely the most misunderstood species of the grammatical kingdom.  Oftentimes mistaken for their contraction counterparts, all the yours, itses, and theirs have been used to exhaustion; meanwhile the you'res, it'ses, and they'res have nearly reached extinction.  If only people realized that they needed verbs, then this would not even be a problem.  The only way to solve this lexical dilemma would be to completely expunge the apostrophe.  However...

That would just cause too many problems for us lazy speakers of English.  Infatuated with the apostrophe, we use it as a shortcut in our possessives.  Why would we want to beat around the proverbial bush when we could just get to the point by taking the backward, apostrophe-facilitated shortcut?

                    Tim's grandmother's brooch is expensive.
                    The brooch of the grandmother of Tim...

No.  We love our apostrophe too much to sacrifice it, regardless of the clarity it would bring to the use of our possessives.  We are fueled by our lazy vernacular--we keep the apostrophe and all the confusion that comes with it, because nobody has time for all that verbosity.  Anyway, the problem would not end with the apostrophe being eliminated: prepositional problems would surely ensue...

The number of human beings who think that "of" is a verb is really frightening.  "Should of," "could of," and "would of"--oftentimes followed by "did"--are three of the most cringe-worthy word combinations I have ever had the displeasure of reading.  I do not know when we began forgetting (or neglecting!) that every statement needs at least one verb, but apparently there has been a colossal anti-verb propaganda campaign sponsored by the word "of" that is keeping us from writing full sentences.  I am going to take us back many, many moons and remind everyone that sentences without action cannot exist.  We need verbs, because verbs are our action words.  This is our new mantra, so say it with me: verbs are action words.  Soothing, is it not?

Okay, okay.  Maybe it is just me, but there really is a lot of satisfaction that comes from fixing all these little errors.  It is like I am digging for gold--every error I find is like a big, shiny nugget.  While you might not understand why editing does this for me, I am sure that you have something that gives you that same triumphant feeling.

Everyone has his own cause.  This is mine.  It is a rough life to compulsively feel the need to fix other people's grammatical problems.  I bear the cross of the Intellectual Snob and have been branded as a member of the pretentious "Who/Whom" Police.  The road to grammatical perfection is never-ending, but I travel it proudly and bravely (of course armed with my Col-E pencils).

But I feel like I am forgetting something here...

Oh yes.  I am forgetting a huge thanks to all the grammar perps out there.  I would not be able to do what I love to do if there were not so many people who have problems with spelling, punctuation, subject-verb agreement, and parallelism.  So, I want to give my wholehearted gratitude to everyone who makes blunders--both big and small--because, without you, both my degree and my passion would be completely obsolete.  You all inspire (and infuriate) me. So, thank you.Y

Griping It Out

Ever since I started writing this blog, I've been trying to develop a concrete "theme" to run with.  You know, something that I could give a solid, one-word answer for when someone asks me, "Oh, what's your blog about?"

Birds!
Yo-yos!
Lemons!

Gout?...

I've always heard that people tend to write about what they know, and I do believe that this holds some credence--unless you are doing really abstract creative writing (i.e., any sci-fi reference of your choice), you have to have some depth of knowledge for what you are talking about.  For example, since I'm an English major, I wouldn't want to go writing about the particulars of physics.  Of course I know the basics, but I definitely wouldn't be able to sit and explicate the inner-workings for you.  If you asked me to write my opinion on Keats, though...

The problem with this--for me--is that I have a lot of different interests and know quite a lot about all of them.  (Forgive me for tooting my own proverbial horn, but *toot-toot*.)  So, again, this puts me back in the struggle of deciding what I want to pick to consistently write about.  I thought about doing something that was all about crafting, but I didn't want to be just another blog that regurgitated Pinterest projects.  I also thought about doing something about yoga, but there again, there are, like, twelve kajillion blogs/sites that talk about that. 

Anyway, running with the idea of going with what I know, I've finally settled on what direction I want to take this.  When someone asks me, "Hey, Jess.  What's your blog about?," I am going to confidently answer with the authoritative voice of experience by saying, "Complaining!"

Don't misunderstand my intentions, here.  I'm not going to be some sniveling, selfish boob who sits here and whines to you about how my life is not perfect 100% of the time.  That would not be fun for any of us.  Instead, I want to focus on the humor in the weirdness of my life.  I tell people all the time that "my life is not real."  The strangest things happen to me (see encounters 1-5 from "My Old Guy Count Is Off the Charts") and, for whatever reason, people like to hear me vent about them.  So, it looks like I'm going to attempt to join the ranks of the many gifted storytellers before me.  (Maybe we should resurrect Chaucer and have him rewrite me into the Canterbury Tales...)

My promise to you is that I will always strive for humor and never for negativity.  I want us to come together over our mutual griefs and appreciate the humor in them.  I want you to laugh with me at the things that I notice that go on around (or to) me.  I want to humorously celebrate the things that make me want to use every single overly dramatic crying emoji in my phone's keyboard.

At the end of the day, you can either cry about what tries to bring you down, or you can take it with a grain of salt and laugh at it.  And I, for one, would always rather laugh than cry.

My Old Guy Count Is Off the Charts

Uniontown, PA is full of men who like to hit on me.  For some cruel reason, though, all these men aren't in an appropriate age range for me.  Oh no.  They're old enough to be my dad...or my granddad.

Don't get me wrong--I have nothing against age gaps in relationships.  However, there is a difference between being in a loving and committed relationship and being ogled by the guy with mustard stains down the front of his NASCAR shirt.

If you know me, you'll know that this isn't really that surprising.  I say all the time that my life isn't real...case in point, the following list of my Five Favorite Fellows who HMU in Uniontown.

1. Toupee von Sweatervest
     description: mid-fifties, sharply dressed in a nice wool sweater vest, proud wearer of obviously fake and over-dyed black hairpiece
     last seen: American Eagle
This gentleman has come into the store on not one, but two occasions, and has successfully unsettled me both times.  After declining my offer to help him shop around, he will stand and watch me fold tables or help other customers.  I can feel his bulging eyes following me around, and then all of a sudden I'll turn around and he'll be right behind me.  He'll introduce himself with his heavy-phone-breather-esque voice and then leave the store.  He's a total 10 on the Scale of Terrifying Creepiness.

2. Meat Head
     description: early forties, completely ripped, overly gelled hair, prone to wearing neon muscle shirts
     last seen: Planet Fitness
I affectionately call this man my "boyfriend" because we semi-consistently run into each other at my gym and he always holds the door open for me.  While he isn't blood-curdlingly creepy like von Sweatervest, he still isn't a total gentleman in my eyes because I have a little bit of a problem with the fact that he pauses his workout to watch me stretch.  Just, no.  Planet Fitness is awesome because it advocates for zero judgment, but shouldn't that also prohibit excessive people watching?  Like, I want to enjoy my workout, not cower in a corner and feel embarrassed about my ten minute stretch sesh.  If only this were the least of my problems at the gym.  Rank on the Scale of Terrifying Creepiness: 4.

3. Grandpa
     description: basically Santa Claus on his off season, only shorter and without the beard
     last seen: Planet Fitness
Yet another gym-lurking culprit.  While I understand that people tend to ask me about yoga, there is a monumental difference between asking for advice and staring at me before interrupting my workout with actual creepiness masquerading as a bunch of questions.  I do not need any stranger cornering me for half an hour asking me about my life and why I like to stretch.  It's just not okay.  I see right through your thin complimentary veneer into your creepy, twisted soul.  Rank on the Scale of Terrifying Creepiness: 6.

4.  Daytona
     description: early fifties, wearer sun visor indoors, advocate for wearing long socks with shorts
     last seen: Planet Fitness
I was minding my own business when this man approached me while I was wiping down my equipment.  He was probably the least harmless of the bunch, but definitely the most annoying.  He had this bee-bopping, overly-excited chipmunk quality about him.  The conversation was supplied almost entirely by him, with barely a pause between sentences.  It went something like this: "You work out here all the time?  You look like you know what you're doing.  Yeah.  I live in Florida.  Where I come from, the Planet Fitness is almost exactly the same.  Just a little different.  We got one of them pools where you can swim 'gainst the current.  Y'know what I'm talking about?  Yeah.  And a sauna.  It's in Florida, but I'm 'riginally from up around here.  It's so awesome.  Just too bad they don't got a sauna in this one."  I smiled and responded with as few words as possible to this kindly windbag and quickly moved along.  Rank on the Scale of Terrifying Creepiness: 3.

5. Glasses Confuserton
     description: early forties, short, profusely stained white shirt, clouded glasses (i.e., the windows to his murky soul)
     last seen: Planet Fitness (seriously...should I switch gyms?)
I was literally on a piece of equipment in the middle of a set when this guy sauntered by.  I caught him out of my periphery while he was cruising the area, but I just assumed he was checking out the equipment.  Wrong.  He slowed down and watched me and the other two girls using ab machines and all of a sudden stopped and turned around and asked me what my name was.  My Jiminy Cricket was telling me to give a fake name, but I told him my name was Jessi anyway.  He started asking me about all the things I use to work out on in this part of the gym because he wanted some information on it.  Looking back, I should have told him to go ask an employee.  Unfortunately, hindsight's always 20/20.  Anyway, he cut me off mid-sentence and said, "Okay, Jessi.  It was nice to meet you," and then walked away.  I looked at the girls who were using the other machine and we exchanged glances of mutual concern.  Rank on the Scale of Terrifying Creepiness: 8.


Okay, okay.  Maybe I'm being too harsh on these guys.  What if they were just genuinely trying to be friendly?  I could give them the benefit of the doubt, but I know someone has to agree with me.  Something in my gut was just telling me that these encounters could not be normal.  I'm an open-minded girl, but if being unsettled by stalkerish behavior makes me a jerk, then I'll wear that badge proudly.  I'm not saying that every person who has ever approached me has demonstrated sociopathic behavior in thirty seconds or less--I met some of my closest friends by weird kismet.  I'm just saying that there is a really thin line between normal/friendly and creepy/heinous.

So, what do we learn from all this?  The gym is the best place to meet your potential murderer, and that my life is not real.

Chasing Rabbits Can Run You Ragged

So this morning, a publisher sent me a text message and asked me for my email address.

A TEXT MESSAGE. FOR MY EMAIL ADDRESS.  FROM A PUBLISHING CORPORATION.

I was still half asleep when I got it so I didn’t really pay much attention to it in my half-delusional, dreamlike state.

Anyway, when I shook off my grogginess and checked my phone, I was kind of taken aback: why would a glorified publishing company use the least sophisticated mode of conversation from the totem pole of communication?  I mean, of course we all use text messaging...but companies?  It just struck me funny that text messaging has become a legitimate and preferred method of communication not just for friends, but for businesses.  It’s not like I’m just now waking up in the twenty-first century and realizing this.  It’s just not something that I ever really thought about before.  Maybe I’m the only one who thinks this is weird, but it kind of got me thinking about two things: 

1. Since when did businesses start going all “IDK My BFF Jill.”
2. Why am I so bent out of shape over this?

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Since I have been unemployed, I have had a lot of time to spend on working on my hobbies.  However, lately I have had this problem where I find my excitement for new projects beginning to wane pretty quickly.  For example, I spent over a week creating a cross stitch pattern (I know, I know…I’m basically an old lady), then ditched it like salad for ice cream when I started a new organizing project.  I seriously spent hours on this adorable pattern: after days of stitching and tweaking the template to perfection, I just stopped.  Why?!  The hard part was over and the fun part is still waiting to be done!  (Shout out to all the other unfinished cross stitch projects in my basket, as well.)

I find myself falling into this cycle.  The organization project I dumped the pattern for was also short lived (but to be fair, I did finish that one).  I’m not saying that I don’t usually finish what I’m working on: I’m just saying that it’s hard to stay dedicated to something when there are all kinds of other new and exciting things demanding attention and stealing focus.

I’ve been persistently trying to work on being more patient, which will hopefully keep me committed and motivated.  It’s really easy to feel inclined to jump some pretty crucial steps out of frustration, exasperation, or waning interest.  But, I’m realizing that it’s better to spend a little extra time on something: I’d rather see things through than be surrounded by a bunch of half-finished projects.  (I don't want to wind up on an episode of Hoarders...)  I want things done right and I enjoy the work it takes.  But finishing projects can be difficult when you catch creative wind for another project. #whyamiinterestedinsomanythings?

Practicing patience is hard.  But it is rewarding.  It’s a daily struggle to maintain motivation; diligence is necessary in order to make progress, and in order to see that progress it is necessary to be patient.

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Maybe instead of being so shocked by a company opting to communicate via text message, I should take a lesson.  Formality can be stuffy…and besides, wouldn’t I rather text the representative instead of calling them, too?

I think this is a pretty transferable lesson in the idea of embracing change rather than fighting it.  Well, for me it is.  Instead of throwing in the towel when my enthusiasm begins to wane or scratching my head in confusion at the lexicons of businesses today, maybe I just need to start adjusting my sails.  I can’t change the way we communicate (especially because I subscribe to and avidly support text messaging), so I just need to go with the flow on this one and take a lesson.  As for all my projects, I need to maintain where I am and catch the next wind that blows my way.  If I want to see results and if I want to see change, I am going to have to push past my Aquarian urge to chase every new proverbial rabbit.

Basically what it comes down to is knowing which winds you should let carry you.  But the most important thing to remember about change is this: you don’t have to like it, but it’s still gonna happen.

Obligatory First Post (I Promise This One Isn't Too Weepy)

Okay, okay.  I know what you're thinking.  This is just another blog written by a selfish, twenty-something year old girl who is gonna complain a lot...

...aaaaaaaaand I can't necessarily promise that that won't be true.

However, this is my public effort to make my unemployment fruitful.  Yes, by blogging.  Have I lost you, yet?

No?  Good.  I implore you to stick around!  (Did I seriously just say "implore"?)  Here are my plans for what's to come:

I want to share my poetry, articles, daily blurbs, pictures, let downs, frustrations, hopes and dreams (even the ones that get squished like bugs), and unemployment with you.  My goal is to write so that

1. I stay motivated
2. I don't waste my natural talent.
3. I have something to show to potential employers (since I am an unemployed aspiring writer and editor).
4. I spend time doing something other than applying to jobs.
5. I am able to get a broad spectrum of feedback.  I appreciate constructive criticism!

Basically, I don't know what to tell you to expect because I don't know what to expect yet, myself.  So hang tight and read on!