hello stranger

would love to cut their strings
and see them fly away

It has been over a year and four months since i last wrote anything down for this blog. It should be mentioned that in lieu of writing here, i have been keeping myself plenty busy with working, playing, laughing, working, driving, and more working. Recently i've been able to reconfigure my schedule so that i can afford to do what i want to do again: meet more people, have more adventures, be outside more. In essence, the exact opposite of what i've been doing for the past year and a half.

i am juggling two jobs and real life.

One job is full of adult conversation and email troubleshooting and password troubleshooting, and some sales. OH, and a WHOLE lot of sarcasm. It is a retail job, and i am thankful for the lessons i am learning and have learned there, and especially for the friendships and connections that i have made since i began there in September 2010. It is an all-consuming job, with its fair share of ups and downs, and plenty of strangers, but not a lot of depth with them.

tangible letters

The other job is full of ABC's, 123's, animal sounds, reading the same books over and over again. Oh, and Taylor Swift. More Taylor Swift than any grown 27 year old woman should ever admit to singing/reciting/rehearsing. i am thankful for this job and the rewards of motherhood without the permanence of having my own kids yet. i love that i get to be there for the happy moments in a toddler's life and a 7 year old's too. It is nice to be needed, to be the one who kisses the skinned knee, to be the one who helps them softly pet a beetle on a branch in the woods, to be hugged with sticky hands and messy faces. It is a treat to be a part of someone else's childhood.

Yet, i have felt part of my soul fall to the wayside as i take on the demanding roles in both of these jobs. Over time i have gotten exhausted with asking questions about emails or poopy diapers. i have started to glaze over when i meet someone new. i think to myself: Will they ask me to help them with their iDevice? Will this child be full if we only eat a little before nap and a little after? i have stopped looking for the bigger story that is going on in my life and in the lives of those people that i meet.

i think that it is because of this exhaustion, that my interest in strangers hits a peak and i come across like a dehydrated person in the desert. In my head i think to myself "SOMEONE NEW!!!!!" and promptly come on too pushy and too strong to someone who has never had more than a 5 minute conversation with me. Or in the opposite direction, when i do have down time, or when i am alone, i withdraw. i spend the afternoon in my home with the curtains blocking out the world and i sleep, or i languish in front of my internet distractions.

So, as i re-gear my life and attempt to focus on sitting in coffeeshops to people watch, and being outside to reflect on life and all of nature's beautiful things, i want to thank You (universally) in advance for the life lessons and laughter that we are embarking for. i am resolving to be a better friend, invest deeper in the people who invest in me, and to make a difference instead of coming up short. There is always hope for change, for maturity, for growth.

it's a brand new day.

people like me

i love when i get to meet someone who is wired the same way that i am.  We're almost drawn to one another, like magnets.  We interact.  Our eyes meet.  We grin:

You love to talk?
You love strangers?
You believe in the greater good?
You don't believe in coincidences either do you?
We were meant to meet each other weren't we? 

We relish in it. Sometimes we embrace like old friends. One of us may even get a tear in our eye because we know that we're about to hear something from the Man Upstairs. We sit down, we settle in for a long talk, we brush off surface level talk.  i am still mulling over a lunch-date with a complete stranger from last week; planning to write about it tomorrow here on the old notebook.  Talking with strangers is a gift, one that i do not take lightly.

These interactions aren't intimidating.  Although, most people might say that rehashing a divorce, or unloading your childhood phobias with a stranger would be, they aren't.  Well, at least, not for people like me.

We understand that there is something greater at work in our exchange of words.  We recognize the need to share our human experiences with each other so that we can learn and grow and help one another.

At one of my favorite coffeeshops in town, the credit/debit minimum purchase is $4; the man behind the counter, Mark, tells me this when i whip out my debit card to pay.  i decide to tip $2 on a $2 coffee so that i can meet the minimum AND make Mark's day a little brighter.

Mark, who is a person like me, says "You didn't have to do that", and i say "i didn't have to, but i wanted to".  He grins, smiles and then says "Well, I wasn't implying that you should tip in order to make up the difference."  i shrug and laugh at him, assuring him "But i wanted to.  Thanks for the coffee, i need it today."  He's already reaching for something, i'm not sure what.  He says, "If you insist to overtip, then i insist that you eat this double-chocolate muffin cap because it's become separated from its bottom.  And don't mind the powdered sugar on it, it just makes it sweeter."

Nope, the powdered sugar isn't what made me smile to myself as i sat down to write, it was this whole interaction.  The banter like we were old friends, insisting on one-upping each other with kindness.

the spoils of conversation

It's the same feeling that i get when i push a shopping cart back to the store for a woman with children.  i don't even need a shopping cart, but it helps her not to have to decide between leaving the kids unattended in the car and holding their hands in the parking lot.  Or carrying groceries for older ladies.  Maybe the women of previous generations weren't as helpful, or maybe they are counting on non-existent Boy Scouts to come and escort them.  But there i am, a 20-something blonde woman asking if i can walk them to their cars: "Yes, why that is awful sweet of you."  "It's the least i can do. Have a super night!"

Or when i call the cashier in Target by her name, Pearl, because it is a lovely name and i wanted to address her as a real person.  Pearl gasps, grins: "Do I know you?"  "Nope.  But you have a lovely name."  She is blushing, and i go on to ask her why her parents picked it.  "I was named after my grandmother."  Delightful.  So much more than a grocery bagger or coupon scanner, you cannot replace Pearl with a machine.  "Thank you Pearl, have a wonderful day."

She waves Goodbye to me as i leave.  i look around.  None of the other cashiers wave at their customers.

i like knowing that the world is feeling like a much smaller place because i'm starting to get to know the people in it.

the year of the stranger

i invite strangers into my home on a regular basis. i even invite them into my bathroom, to snuggle up with me on my couch, and into my bed. i’d be willing to bet that you do the same exact thing. You probably curl up with a good book on your couch, lug it to the bathroom [dang page-turners!]; you let it lull you to sleep, ignoring the slow blink until you suddenly realize it’s 7am and your book is resting on your pillow next to you.

strangers in my room

These are the strangers that we invite into our daily consciousness. So far this year, i’ve let quite a few strangers speak to me about a variety of things: the facelessness of email, the Wicked Witch of the West and her son, stories about lurid family affairs and childhood lore. Currently i am reading about faith from a dread-locked hippie in California and short-fictional stories from a stranger who wrote the book when she was my age.

It wouldn’t be the same if i were to invite the dirty homeless stranger from the corner to come and sit on my couch under my blanket with me. i saw her on Thanksgiving, in a predictable spot on the side of the road. i think she had a sign, but it didn’t matter. Just seeing her there destitute, malnourished and cold while i was warm and bundled, headed for Thanksgiving lunch with a piping-hot dessert cake beside me on my seat. i got $4 out of my wallet and smiled as i handed it to her.  i gave myself a mental pat-on-the-back for blessing her.  She said “God bless you”, i said “you too” but was immediately choked up with tears. i’d been blessed by this stranger in 3 short words.

When i look back over this year and reflect on all of the changes that have occurred and all of the aspects of my life that differ from this time last year, i quickly find that i am at a loss for words. i have had eight jobs in the past year. EIGHT. i was single and lonely this time last year, crying as i drove home for the holidays, crying as i drove back to Raleigh. This year i have a man in my life who gives me comfort in a way i could have never imagined. i’ve gained friends, lost friends, witnessed life-changing moments, had life-changing moments, and missed life-changing moments.

My year has been chock full of strangers. not the strangers that recite to me from their books, not the strangers who sing to me as i drive. Real, bonafide, strangers:

-Strangers who invited me into their homes while i inquired for the Census. i was always cautious about actually going inside, but even just the gesture alone was nice to witness.

-Strangers who encountered me when i drove [PEDALED!] a pedi-cab in downtown Raleigh. Besides the drunk people who would never remember the things they divulged to me, there were other folks who rode in my cart who encouraged me to be the best me. Aside from literal high-fives, these strangers were a boost to my self-esteem. They told me that i was awesome and that i’ve got the right kind of attitude to go far. i had strangers give me hugs and kiss my cheeks; strangers that gave me $100 tips and offered to buy me dinner.  Every night was an adventure filled with a menagerie of road-companions. i met homeless people, divorced people, 50th wedding-anniversary people, drunk people, awkward 14 year olds, foreign people, elderly people, birthday-people, bachelorette people, dancing people, screaming people, laughing people, quiet people, bored people, happy people, outrageous people; all of whom i could identify with directly.

-Strangers who i have talked with over the phone, like Kay in my former post. but others too: like the elderly man who sounded like Foghorn Leghorn who proposed to me after an extensive computer-technical troubleshooting session. i believe his exact words were “You sound real ‘perty’”. You gotta love that. Or the strangers on the line who said “you’ve been such a help to me, thank you for your patience through my frustration”.

-Strangers who i’ve met in person in the retail store that i work in now. Like Debbie, one stranger who i worked with on two occasions, when she asked how i’ve been and i blurted out “i’m broke” and she held my shoulders and said “It’ll get better. I’ve been there too.” Or the strangers who show you that you take things for granted. One customer of mine had an accident over 10 years ago, but he is one of the happiest people i have met in the store.  He knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to try new things. The interactions i have had with him have been inspiring to me; i replay them in my mind before bed or while i get ready for work.  He makes me want to do my job better and to be a better human-being in general.

-Strangers who have become family to me. Babysitting has been a job that i ‘moonlight’ in on the side during the regular school-year.  It usually goes like this: “HI! Welcome! Food’s in the fridge, bedtime is 8! We’ll be home by midnight! bye!” But this past year has been different. i’ve been part of a family: i have my own key, have my own nickname, it’s like i’m the big sister and the 26 year old daughter they never had. i’ve learned some of the in’s and out’s of parenthood. i’ve seen the first steps of the 2 year old, seen the first wiggly teeth of a 5 year old. i was a stranger to this family, and now i am a daughter.  i cannot begin to describe how much this means to me.

Not all of my interactions with strangers have been pleasant. There are always those interactions with people that are rude or careless with words. There were learning experiences with strangers who, in sheep’s clothing, tried to take advantage of me. These interactions taught me that i am much more capable than i give myself credit for. There were strangers who hung up on me, slammed the door in my face, cut me off in traffic, swore at me. But if i’m honest, there were times when i was the stranger in the other car honking at them, hanging up on a bad call, storming out of an interaction.

we're all in this together

There were times and interactions this year that turned strangers into friends and friends into strangers. This is the ebb and flow of relationships, i suppose.

i am sad to see some relationships end, happy to bid ‘adieu’ to unhealthy others, and encouraged to find myself in stride with new unions too. It’s easy to get wrapped up in drama and gossip; to call it quits and walk away.  It’s hard to maintain friendships as marriages start and end, jobs take us to new states, depression lurks in the economy and in our present psyche, pride and envy root themselves as barriers between friends. It is hard because it takes work, dedication, loyalty and elbow grease to remain friends and not become strangers; and we are all broken people prone to states of decay.

New hairstyles this year might make the ‘present me’ a stranger to the me that i was a year ago. Beyond the surface, new lifestyle and living arrangements would add to that strangeness. Different life-goals and orientation, morals and religious conviction, church affiliation, this me is different than the me a year ago. i still love me, and i still recognize myself in the mirror. But i am embracing the daily recognition that the ‘strange’ is part of my ordinary.

i’m loving that there are daily opportunities to learn and be taught, as well as teach and help others learn. i really do get the sense that we are all in this together; so why not smile and laugh and learn along the way?

Kay on the phone

She called to get my help.

Her name was Kay and she needed help transferring a load of files onto her new computer.

My new job is to help people like Kay troubleshoot the issues on their computers over the phone.

Before you go congratulating me, know that this job thrills me about as much as any service industry job can thrill you. Some days are reminiscent of waitressing endeavors, when all the regulars came in and asked how i was doing or left an extra tip because they knew my rent was due soon.

Other days are like when there would be a big lunch rush, the restaurant slammed with hungry patrons, tables pulled and pushed around to fit the needs of the people. i would be walking as fast as i could to keep glasses filled, tables wiped down, incoming guests greeted, and over the din of all of this, a woman in a too-small sweater snaps her fingers at me as if i were a dog being told to ‘Sit’. She pantomimes for me to come and wipe down her table, my ears and face burning with shame, i quietly acquiesce to her demand.

Except, now the pantomimes are through the phone line, and i have one defense in my arsenal: the caller (angry or naive or rude) cannot see me roll my eyes or grind my teeth in annoyance.

But i wasn’t rolling my eyes at Kay. No, i was nodding and grinning while fighting the urge to cry. willing my eyes to suck in the tears that were welling up in the lower lids.

Luckily, the process we walked through in the moving of her files was a long process. We got to talk for over an hour. Throughout our conversation, i found out that Kay was a writer (she didn’t want to lose her Final Draft application). i asked what type of writing she does, and she modestly responded “for television, but that was a long time ago”. when i asked for a little bit more information she casually says, oh ya know, “Cheers”, as in, Danson, Long, Harrelson, Alley, Grammer and so forth.

Wow, this woman wrote for HIT television shows. i tell her that i want to be a writer and that i want to have a book in Oprah’s Book Club one day and i laugh at my silly notion.

Kay cuts me off mid-laughter. She is not laughing. i sit up straight in my chair and grab my pen to write down what she was saying to me:

“Make life choices to reach your goals, and NEVER be embarrassed of your goals”.

If i want a book in Oprah’s Book Club, then Kay thinks i should aim to do so. but whenever i think about doing what i’ve always dreamed of my head starts swimming with all of the possibilities and all the ‘right steps’ to get there.

i don’t know much about Kay other than her friendly speaking voice and the state of her migrating files, but i hear exactly what she is offering me, she is offering me hope and faith through the phoneline.  Kay has never met me and yet, she is willing her optimism to me.  i needed it, and she knew it.

Kay wanted me to understand that life isn’t about figuring it out, it’s more about showing up and doing whatever it takes everyday.

Before we were finished, i told Kay that it had been a blessing to speak with her. it was a pleasure and a gift to speak with someone a few states away, a stranger who invested in the nameless call-center operator on the other end. i was encouraged to dream again, even if it means reading and writing in the 15 seconds i get between calls at my job.

Now, everyday at my desk, in my stack of work notes and bulletins, i bring in my red notebook. the one where my Oprah’s Book Club novel might start.

Maybe one day i will dedicate that book to Kay.

in between interviews

Although i have been on a slight hiatus from posting interviews, i have been interviewing people.  Between my 3 jobs, i just haven't had very much down-time to write up anything about the interviews. 

It appears that i have some time this week [time will tell] to sit down and write, so please look forward to Richard from Scotland, and Margaret from Raleigh.  they will be posted before the end of the week and i plan on interviewing more and more and more and more people!  So prepare yourselves!

-yourstorygirl

Chelsea from Louisiana

True, she is not a total stranger, but as far as knowing someone, my roommate’s sister isn’t someone that would count as more than an acquaintance. So she counts.

The younger sister of my roommate, Chelsea was in town for a week, away from where she attends college at Southeastern Louisiana University. Soon to be 21, Chelsea has a remarkably mature spirit about her. Whereas i, myself, can often feel like i’m still 14, Chelsea acts more like a 25 year old than i do; and while my roommate had to go to work at her 8-5, i got to hang out with Chelsea quite a bit.

First impressions of Chelsea are somewhat misleading, and she knows it. She says that she often holds herself back from initial interactions with people because conversation doesn’t come easy with people she doesn’t know. But when she is around people she feels comfortable with, she is sarcastic, bubbly, outgoing. In order for Chelsea to feel comfortable, she has to know that she has something in common with the other person. i told her that i am quite the opposite.

i told her that i’m totally comfortable talking to everybody initially. In my experiences, i find that it’s easy to strike up a conversation about the weather, recent events, or to pay someone a compliment. It’s the latter part of the conversation that trips me up, the part where you run out of steam; when you find out they are really into fly-fishing and you know nothing about it. How do you connect with someone when your specific interests are not specifically the same?

i digress. Chelsea is an extremely good listener. After spending time with her for a few days, and of course, unabashedly wearing my heart on my sleeve (i spill, you don’t even have to dig), i asked “do you have any advice for me?”

She says “No. Usually I am good at giving advice because I am a good listener, but I am not inclined to tell people what to do.”

She paused and smiled, looks at me:

“Go to Ireland. DO IT.”

That’s the advice i’ve been avoiding. That’s the advice that puts bricks in the pit of my stomach. i have a great opportunity to go overseas and work with teenage youth in Bangor, Northern Ireland. Unwittingly, i have been stalling on making this happen. Why? Because of money. If i am to go and do a year in Ireland, i am going to have to raise my own funds and fundraising petrifies me. It makes me uncomfortable to ask for money, as i am sure many people are nodding in agreement, but the opportunity to go would be an incredible adventure and a huge risk in today’s economy.

me: What’s the biggest risk you’ve ever taken, and did it pay off?

Chelsea: The biggest risk I have taken is to trust God 100% on going into ministry in NYC for the Here’s Life Inner City program. I have a heart for the needy, but I had to surrender to His plan and not my own. We were homeless on the streets of New York for 3 days and nights as part of the project! But the risk paid off because I learned a lot about God’s love for the needy, and about God’s heart for us to be serving the needy. It taught me not to take things for granted, but to appreciate the luxuries we enjoy like coffee or dessert [or a warm bed!]

me: Why is it so important for you to serve?

Chelsea: Because I am trying to be as Christ-like as I can be. We are called to serve people, and it’s about learning to surrender to what that means.

She told me that it is hard for her to understand how there are individuals who claim to be a ‘believer’ but they aren’t serving anyone. She does not know how one can read the Bible and not be challenged to help the needy and the poor. She said that we all serve somebody and that we shouldn’t look for the praises of people, and that there are often no rewards for serving others, besides the service itself.

i enjoyed talking with Chelsea. No, not just because i can talk my head off about my own life and thoughts and problems and triumphs ‘til the cows come home, but because Chelsea is a gorgeous girl with an amazing spirit. She may consider herself shy and reserved, but all i see is a girl who is blossoming. A humble girl with a heart to serve others; which is often, i am sure, a burden to bear as one considers all of the suffering in the world. A girl who is learning to love herself as much as the plights of the needy, a girl with the potential to change a lot of lives for the better.

me: Are you happy?

Chelsea: Uh, yeah I guess. More often recently I have had unhappy days. But I have family, friends, a place to sleep and food. So at the end of the day, I have everything that I need.

me: How do you want to be remembered?

Chelsea: For loving people. Not just the homeless, but all people. For giving even when I have nothing. I want to be remembered for being a mother and a wife, or an artist, you know, for great stuff.

me: Are you headed that way?

Chelsea: I hope. I don’t know. I do my best to love people. I do my best.

It was refreshing to talk to someone who has hope for the future. i can’t say that i am always so optimistic about the future: having not had a steady “real” job in quite a while, after failed relationships and various estrangements, in light of a looming fundraising endeavor, or the fact that i may be hopelessly single for a long time. Talking with Chelsea was a breath of fresh air, a reason to hope, a reminder for hope, and a memo for me to ‘take heart’.

story and life inspiration

From a blog that i frequent and find highly enjoyable, the thoughts below are challenging and just what i needed to hear today, enjoy!

i noticed that #12 is missing too.  Gotta love that. 

Maybe i'll get to meet Keri Smith one day.

Mr. Anderson, almost 95

i met him when i was a delivery driver for my previous job.

On Thursdays at 5pm sharp, i brought him a hot meal from the kitchen that i worked at.  When i would knock, he would move forward in his wheelchair and say 'Come in young lady!'.  I would let myself in, quickly unpack the paper bagged dinner, and have a seat on his couch.

Our interactions were always short, as i was on the clock for work, but we always managed a bit of basic conversation: weather, television, food, his late wife, reflections on life.

The first time i ever delivered to him was one week after Thanksgiving last fall.  Thanksgiving had been hard for me as it was the first holiday without my priceless grandfather.  After speaking to Mr. Anderson for only a few minutes, i found myself in tears.  i am a tender-hearted person; my whole family is disposed to tear-filled eyes with only the slightest sentiments.  But as i left his front porch i burst into tears.  My heart ached for my own PawPaw, having seen similar echoes of typical old men: gruff voice, stubbornness, friendliness, wood paneling and outdated pictures.  i knew that Mr. Anderson was someone that i was going to look forward to seeing every week.

Every week...until i stopped working there.  i had given my notice and it was the last Thursday that i would be delivering his food; i knelt down next to his wheelchair 'i won't be coming by on Thursdays anymore to deliver your dinner, i'm sorry."  He said, "You stop by anytime you want to, the door is always open for you young lady."

When i stopped by on Friday this week, i was not sure how Mr. Anderson would respond to me or my writer's tablet notepad.  Sometimes he doesn't remember meeting me, or seeing me merely a week before.  Friday was one of the "I don't who you are" days.  It made me sad to have to reintroduce myself to him; to see the look in his eyes when he realized that he should know who i am, and that he can't find a trace of me in his memory to draw on.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, i didn't know where to start.  i asked about his wife, as i know she is often his favorite and most cherished subject to talk about.

Tell me about when you met Theda.

"I was 17 and she was 15 when we got married.  I met her in school, she was the prettiest girl, and I was in love with her from the minute that I met her.  There's never been a person living that was as highly thought of as much as her.  I think as much of her today as when I first met her.  When I lost that woman up there, [he motions to her photo on the mantle], I lost everything."

This is a thought that he has shared with me many times.  This line haunts me almost every time we speak.  He says this often, pausing before and after he says it.  lost everything.  He still wears his wedding ring, a thin gold band.  I do know that it has been years since Theda passed away.  He still takes care of himself for the most part, even though he is probably what you would consider a 'shut-in'.  She had been his everything, and now she was gone.  It was a devotion that I saw in my own PawPaw after my beloved Gran passed on; everything was changed.  My heart ached.

i asked him to tell me about his family, and about his childhood in Goldsboro, NC.  He did not want to tell me much about that, saying that most of his family was dead now, except for one brother.  When i asked for his living brother's name, he couldn't remember it and said "That can't be that important, can we just leave that alone?".  i felt guilty for highlighting a bad spot in his memory.  He moved on.  His father had been a retired railroad foreman, but he also owned a farm during the Depression.  He worked on the farm, 'those were the days when a $1 was a $1 and men would work for $.50 a day'.  When he was old enough, he enlisted with the Marines and was stationed in the Pacific during World War II.  He said that when he got back, he never spoke about the war because 'war is war and it wasn't right to talk about it once I got home.'  My heart ached.

He and Theda built a home in an old neighborhood of downtown Raleigh.  Mordecai used to be in the woods and considered to be the countryside, now it is a neighborhood with a mixed lot of young families and retirees.  Theda raised their two children while Mr. Anderson worked as a freight driver.  He liked to drive and he wanted to see the country.  He liked that he would be in a different city every night and could see the countryside of America.  His extended family wasn't too far away and he would come home whenever he had the chance.  He said 'I had a family, I loved them all, I still do."  My heart ached.

He smirked as he told me that they had to drive to South Carolina in his father's Model A Ford in order to get married.  He and Theda had not even told his or her parents where they were going or what they were going to do that day.  But you couldn't get a marriage license in North Carolina if you were younger than 16, but they allowed it in South Carolina and so they set off to find a Justice of the peace.  After they had driven all the way back to Goldsboro, they parted ways and went to school as usual the next morning.  They each had to tell their families and their classmates that they had gotten married over the weekend.  It wasn't until a few months later that they began to function as a married couple: alternating between their family's homes until they were able to get a 2 bedroom apartment for themselves.  His light blue eyes and faint eyelashes flutter as i saw him reminisce about his late bride.  My heart ached.

Mr. Anderson asked me why i was writing things down.  Not thinking that he has any life-lessons to offer, he said that it would be pointless for me to write anything he was saying down.  It almost seemed as if he were miffed at me for recording any of his words.  i told him that i was going to write something about our time together, because i was learning from him.  He told me not to bother.  He'll be 95 this year, born on June 3, 1915.  His weathered hands and silver hair are souvenirs from a life that he says he enjoyed every minute of.

i guess that the biggest lesson i am learning from Mr. Anderson, especially in our extended conversation on Friday, is that even with all the heartache, life is worth living.  Even when a person may feel like they haven't done anything worthy of praise or worthy of recording, life is still worth living; he's still here, his heart is still beating. Regardless of what he may think of himself, i value him, i value his words, the lessons are being passed down.  He is making a difference to me.

It's my belief that everything works together for good, whether it's good that is apparent or good that is hidden.  Mr. Anderson has no idea what his time with me has meant to me.  i'm sure that he has made a lot of good happen for those around him, and most of all, he's taught me that love is powerful, love is important, it carries beyond this life and it connects us to one another in ways that are hard to describe.  And that is a lesson that anyone should be grateful to witness.

**i have not included actual pictures of Mr. Anderson because i am not sure how Mr. Anderson would want to be portrayed.  this is an exception to what will usually be the rule.