What am I talking about, you ask? Birthdays. It might have not been a great idea to carry out old, dusty, moldy furniture out of my bedroom and organize everything into plastic containers, but I really wanted to do it before the birthday parties just in case anybody poked their heads in the bedroom and saw the pile of clothes and junk everywhere.
I don't like being judged for my messes, as you can tell. I like having a clean, organized home when I have people over, even when they're not my own guests. If I live under a roof, I'm fully capable of helping my family clean things up. Unfortunately, my family doesn't have as much of the same preference that I do. They throw their junk and shoes anywhere they like when they feel tired or lazy, which is basically all the time. What drives me crazy the most is when they make high traffic areas an obstacle course, most commonly with their shoes.
Personally, I don't enjoy watching other people get hurt. I watched enough of that when I was little. And I don't like feeling that rush of adrenaline, sudden anxiety, and fear of being unable to get my footing and that I'm about to fall down. I'm not accident-prone, nor do I have a knack for falling down, but I do remember what it's like to live with both problems (I was a clumsy kid and later learned to avoid bumps, bruises, and scrapes by being too slow. Once puberty hit, I got clumsy again and often bruised my then-wider hips, so I had to re-learn my old method.).
So, I've grown into a hyper-self-aware, alert, and perhaps over-careful, individual. Since I don't like disasters (and watching disaster movies, a.k.a. horrible-things-happening-and-everything-going-wrong-throughout-the-movie "comedies"), I sometimes can't stand it anymore and get frustrated when I accidentally kick or trip on something. But I do nothing more than "Agh!" and "Argh!" like a human-wookie crossbreed, shove things over to the side, and growl a sentence or two of my extremely-wanted request to "Can we please just...!" and "That way, nobody has to trip and smash their face on anything!"
I don't like being angry. It's not a good feeling, and it definitely doesn't feel good. Many people like the feeling because it gives them a [false] sense of power, simply because they see others cower down, give them fearful looks, and obey them. But it always feels empty in the end, like it was stupid to throw a fit in the first place. Some people are blind to that realization, however. They simply think and act by the motion of emotion. It's basically like stimming when you have autism, which is what my brother has.
For example, when he doesn't want to do something, like following the rules: His simpleminded thoughts are, when asked to turn down his headphones in a public place: "I WANT to listen to my music on my headphones!" His feelings: Stubbornness; "I want what I want"; "I don't WANT to give it up!"; "But I'm having too much fun, and I refuse to give it up!"; "I just started, so I'm not going to listen to you." (regardless of the actual time duration, even long periods of time feel like a few minutes. It's kind of like sleep, where they lose touch with reality and when they block things out due to stress.); and "I feel too comfortable to leave my comfort zone."
I have a character that basically represents anger. Mind you, it's very different from that new Disney/Pixar movie, um.... What's it called again? (I haven't watched it, yet, but I know as a matter of fact that he's not like my character.) *looks it up* Inside Out. Anyway, the character is nothing near like him. And yes, I'll be watching it soon. I bought the DVD for my sister's birthday. She'll want me to watch it with her just as much as how one of my best friends wants me to watch it.
Does this mean that I have other characters that represent emotions? ...More or less. Yes and no. Maybe and sort of. It's a long story to explain how my story world works. It would probably take me about 30 minutes up to an hour to go over just enough to explain that one single thing, just to answer that question.
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Well, my sister caught a 24-hour flu bug this morning. Just a bad headache, nausea, and little upchucking this morning. I wasn't sure whether it was the chicken teriyaki I got her yesterday, but I didn't want to risk going to work today because:
1. She can't really take care of herself or know what to do because of her autism. For instance, I had to give her water because she was dry heaving.
2. Since I ate a ton of sushi and chicken yakisoba from the same restaurant, I didn't want to risk hurling all over books, toys, and people. (Yes, there are toys in libraries. You didn't know that? Pick yourself up and go to your nearest public library, unless you live many miles away from it. Also, many people still think that librarians are cranky old ladies whose only form of communication is shushing. Another thing that many people still think is that libraries are boring and full of books. Good grief. It's the 21st century! Libraries also have DVDs, Blu-rays, CDs, free internet access on computers, WiFi, laptops, iPads, and fun events going on each month. The toys are in the play areas and a bunch of other ones are played with during Storytime. If I've mentioned this before and I don't remember, it's probably because I tend to write in this blog when it's late at night. My apologies. I have no clue how many people are actually reading my blog. Whenever I look at the Google Analytics (a feature that shows me how many people in each country and at each approximate time that people look at my blog and blog posts), I just figure that most people take at glance at this blog and move on. I mainly write in here as a sort of diary and writing log, only thinking that at least one person I know in real life is reading it. I don't feel bad if nobody is actually reading it. Personally, it reminds me of looking through a calendar at the end of the year, or looking through an old calendar from several years ago: You see what exciting things you did on certain days. I guess not all people do this [and, in fact, I admit to not doing this as much as I used to], but I once wrote the details of what happened each day at the end of each day noteworthy. For example, if I went to Wild Waves and Enchanted Village [a theme park I used to go to often with my aunt], I'd mention things like: "I got a big ice cream cone!" or [At Fright Fest near Halloween, same theme park] "I wore my Scream mask and people liked it!" Some days were bad days and I'd write, "I fell down and sprained my ankle. :'( " Eventually, I didn't write anything on bad days, especially when my aunt would verbally and mentally abuse me. Instead, I'd cross out the day not with a straight X, but with a wavy X, as though it were a drawing of tears running down a person's face. Anyway, at the end of the first year of treating my calendar as a sort of diary, I realized how fun and interesting keeping track of my life really was. This blog is a form of that, with me writing down significant events each day [Well, almost. But I recently decided to change that, as you know.], like a diary. Anyway, back to this list. Lol. I get so sidetracked when writing letters and blogging. Don't worry. I don't write my books like this. I'm more strict on myself with my books. I just ramble, don't judge myself, and feel free and comfortable when I write letters and blog posts.)
3. I forgot the third reason. (If you forgot what the heck I was talking about in this list, scroll up a little to check. I just now had to do that, too. Me = Ramblehead!) Ah, yes. Now I remember. I had 3 hours of sleep last night because I was having too much anxiety and restlessness to get off the computer (I tend to go back and forth between Facebook [I only Friend family and friends I've met and known for a while in real life, save for a rare few people who are the only exceptions.] and Twitter [I'm @Jennifer_Fulk] a gazillion times.). I finally got off the computer late at night, took a shower, and went to bed at past 3 AM. I would have gone to work anyway if it wasn't for my sister getting sick, though, which taking care of her is my top priority and reason when she gets sick. I've gone to work before on 4 hours of sleep. Although I wouldn't recommend it for anyone, half the time this happens, I tend to be wide awake and functional throughout the day until I get home. Maybe I run on adrenaline on those days.... Then again, I run on adrenaline all the time anyway because I prefer to not have to lean on a cane at this age (a.k.a. I refuse to have to depend on caffeine. It's healthier, I'm not getting addicted to anything, and I'm not wrecking my body from the inside). Yeah, it's not healthy to get 4 - 6 hours of sleep each night, but I'm working on a plan to fix that by sheer will. Perfect, structured routines are my worst enemy, thanks to my aunt (Mind you, I have 4 aunts, but that one is remembered by all of the family to be the meanest. Yeah, she was horrible as a kid, too. The type that makes even the parents afraid [and lenient! Worst parenting idea - ever!], which is kind of what created her in the first place.). But I don't use that as an excuse for my self-destructive behavior. It was only last week that I finally figured out what is wrong with me: The procrastination and "fear" of doing anything is the result of the constant rush and anxiety I went through daily. Knowing the need to hurry, but having flashbacks of having to rush to bed and the intense anxiety and fear associated with it, I end up putting it off by doing things that take my mind off of it. But where's the stopping point? There is none. It's a vicious cycle. The only way that I can feel comfortable going to bed is letting myself burn out: When I'm very tired and I'm starting to fall asleep. Unfortunately, that isn't the greatest choice when you have to take a shower as well, especially when you have work in the morning. Instead of saying, "I'm screwed for life", I'm going to try to help myself the best I can. I can go through rounds of therapy with some therapist, but therapists don't make much money, and just about anybody can be hired to be one, regardless if you have training or special degrees or not. In the end, it's all depending on me anyway, so I might as well treat myself. It isn't a serious mental condition, I've just got to look inside myself and break a bad habit by fixing my "running-out-of-time-just-before-the-end-of-the-world" panic and anxiety.
Oh, yeah. And my sister is feeling better now. There's a weird, short-lived flu bug going around. A lot of people at my mom's work have been getting it, a friend who lives nearby got on the same day as my sister, and my little cousin caught a similar one about 70 miles away at the same time, too. I think it's the weather. We've been getting a pattern of cool and warm, cool and warm weather lately. A few days ago, it was cold. Like, in the lower 50s kind of cold. Then it got warm in the upper 60s again. I think that day was to blame for all the people getting it today.
Something unrelated: If you have access to YouTube, I recommend subscribing to the channel, "50 ducks in a hot tub". Matt, his ducks, and his dog, Dug, are like one big, funny family. You'll know what I mean when you watch several videos. Recently, Matt got a tear in an unfortunate place, so he's going through a lot of pain right now, but he recently got a huge hatch of the cutest, funniest ducklings you'll ever see. Whenever he goes in their barn, their God-sent therapy immediately takes the pain away. It makes me almost cry (and now the tears finally come. *reaches for tissue, because it always annoyingly drains through my nose*), seeing them rushing over to him, crowding around him, and nibbling on his shoes and legs (They're actually grooming him and treating him like he's their mommy or daddy.). He's never had a hatch that behaved like this. He recently decided to lay down among them to see what would happen, and the result was adorable beyond reason.
Oh, and I forgot to mention: I stayed awake and was on the computer for a bit this morning before I ate a bowl of cereal. My sister was doing better the whole time I was doing those things (an hour or two?), so I decided to go back to bed. I was too tired to go immediately to the store to get her 7Up. I decided to set my cell phone alarms so that I'd get a few more hours of sleep. After all, her loud dry heaves woke me up an hour before I was supposed to wake up. So I had 3 hours of sleep instead of 4. I figured that added 3 more hours would give me 6 hours of sleep total to get by. However, when my alarms went off, I shut them all off while I was half-asleep, deciding that I would sleep for 5 more minutes and wake up on my own (Of course, that never works for most people. It only works for me every once in a while, but not when I'm extremely tired.). Well, let me tell you, I've been feeling utterly exhausted since last Friday. I had to move a load of clothes and belongings into containers, as well as a couple of large bits of furniture in and out of my room that day. The next day, I had to finish up with that project, as well as vacuum, decorate, and otherwise preparing for my sister's birthday party. By the next day, on my birthday, I was utterly spent. But I still had tons of stuff to do. Monday, that next day, I have little memory of. I wasn't too busy, but I guess I was tired enough not to remember how tired I was. Tuesday was terrible. My eyes were heavy and kept going out of focus, and I felt like I was going to fall asleep any minute, all day. Thankfully, I wasn't rushing around. I sat most of the time at work cleaning stuff. On Wednesday, I was unusually wide awake and clear-thinking, but I remember I had 5 hours of sleep, one hour less than the night before. I guess I was running on adrenaline that day. Then... Thursday, today. ...Er, well. Yesterday, that is. It's 2:50 AM, so it's technically Friday right now. Whatever.
My poor cat is yelling at me with raspy-voiced barks: "Eh!!" "Ow!!" "En!!" She wants me to go to bed, but I want to write. She doesn't realize I don't have to get up early in the morning.
Agh! I keep wanting to tell you, but I keep on rambling and getting sidetracked! Here, I'll just say it: I slept for 10 hours! That was 3 hours last night, and, when I went back to bed, I accidentally slept for 7 hours (until 4:30-ish PM. My mom coming home and talking with my sister in the living room woke me up). When I woke up, I was a little afraid that it may be because I was going to be sick soon, too, but then I remembered that it was simply because I had been exhausted. I felt more refreshed, more than I have felt in a while, so it all worked out in the end.
Anyway, it's 3:00 AM. Time to write for a little bit, then I need to go to bed. (But I'm pretty tired, now. I'll decide what to do once I start reading a little bit before where I left off. If I know what to write and my imagination is functioning well, I'll know.) ...No. You know what? I think I'll go to bed. I need to have a time limit, even on weekends. 3 AM, no later. Closing my eyes right now, I know I am too tired. Good night. (I need to start listening to my cat more.... Lol.)
3:48 AM (Oops. But it's the weekend. Then again, I overworked my body today. I'll be feeling it tomorrow. And sleep in. At least I feel like I wrote enough, though. I haven't gone far very much these past past several months.)
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Not much to say. My sister wanted me to watch Zootopia with her and Mom at dinnertime (Dinner was late), then we watched 50 Ducks in a Hot Tub videos late into the night. Oh, and yes. I was sore all day today. I didn't have that much of an appetite, though. My metabolism goes way low on weekends, when I'm not doing anything. I end up eating a bowl of cereal for breakfast, snacks throughout the day, and any-sized dinner. That's about it. Anyways, I am falling asleep as I am typing this, so I bid you a good night.
Unknown time. Likely around 7:30 PM.
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Whew! I'm getting closer to where this part of the story will join the main part. What do I mean and how did this happen? Well, I've heard of some writers doing this, and I'm no exception (In fact, I've always been like this! It's rather annoying.): When I start writing a story, I don't know how exactly to begin. I don't know what the first sentence will be, and I don't know what the first few chapters will be like. I have the feel (The mood of the story? It's hard to describe "the feel", putting it in words, but I hope you can understand. It's what writers seek when they sit down in front of the story they're writing. It's kind of like trying to remember how an orchestrated song goes in a movie in a battle scene. It ain't easy to grasp the movement, the flurry, and the excitement, and forcing your own emotions to feel fear as though you're running around fighting an invisible enemy when you're sitting in a chair. I guess another way to describe it is when you have to stop a Star Wars movie in the middle of it, and, the next day, trying to remember what just happened and how you felt during the seconds before where you left off.), ...You know what? I just rambled after four words in a sentence. Redo! (I hate it when I do that.) I have the feel and I know the most important things that will happen, but the imagination runs dry, so I "make a summary" of these most important events so that I can think over them and daydream a little. Fortunately and unfortunately, I get inspired after several sentences or paragraphs. Once I've started, I'm unstoppable. It's a powerful thrill, as though I were reading a good, fast-paced book. The only difference? I'm not flipping pages like crazy, I'm typing like crazy. I want to know what happens next just as much as a reader.
Soooo, anyway. (I'm getting off-topic and disorganized because I'm falling asleep at the computer again [Yeah. it's 3:29 AM, June 26th.].) That's why and what I'm doing. 39 words turned into 5,267 words so far. *I'll continue this tomorrow. I honestly can't stay awake any longer.
...I'm back. 2:07 PM, June 26th! That purple section above is what I added in just now. I'm in a writing mood, so I rambled. Oops. But I felt the need to explain what I meant by "the feel". Oftentimes people don't understand what I'm saying, other times they're too afraid of asking and looking stupid, so they dismiss it that I'm stupid and ignore me, pretending that I'm invisible. Maybe it's just that I often feel invisible because people don't talk to me much in real life. But I don't blame them. I'm horrible at talking. I stumble over words a lot, I stutter a little, I process thoughts slower than the average person, and when I don't talk fast and stumble over my words, I talk slowly. Autism sucks. And people make assumptions, they think I'm done talking because I also pause in between 1 - 5? words, I get interrupted, etc., etc. I get frustrated with myself when I pause and have something to add to what I say, and then other people talk and change the subject just when I open my mouth again. Do I have to keep my mouth open, or something? Then again, they look away anyway. It's probably not me. Chatty people constantly talk because it feels good on their jaws or something. Maybe they just like competition, and they're not used to being around slow-thinkers. Chatty people do hang with chatty people. That makes sense. They're adapted to thinking fast so they can can jump in and say whatever they want when they want. But I don't like interrupting people because I know how it feels to be interrupted. It's even more awful for me because when I'm interrupted, I instantly forget what I was just saying and what I was about to say. This is why I give up talking altogether. I'm not very talkative, but when I am, it's when people want to talk to me. I like people who are happy to invite others to their conversations. And asking questions. I'm great with answering them. Advice, too. Figuring out how to do something or getting around obstacles? I love doing that. Using odd objects for tools rather than traditional ones? That's often the right way to do them. It's hard for many people to think outside the box, because they're used to a systematic way of doing things (e.g. "following the crowd"). I used to be stupid and couldn't figure out anything, so don't think I'm some genius or something. We all can learn new ways of doing things if we just look around us and think more independently. And being more careful. Slow and easy wins the race.
...But enough about that. I've probably mentioned the same things several times already. I'm too lazy to go back and look, but at least you can learn a little more about me when I put things in different words. And hey, you could be autistic, too. Maybe you didn't understand something I said before, and are understanding it better since I put it a different way this time? The variety in the things that happen in life are endless. Anything can happen, anytime, anywhere, at just the right time, for many reasons we often can not see.
^And, no. I don't feel like fixing that ridiculously long "paragraph" right now. I'd rather write [in my story] so I can get closer to the day that I can publish it and bring it to you! The long wait is so worth it! (P.S. I'm horrible at writing letters. This blog comes somewhere between writing a letter and story writing. Half-good, half-bad. When I'm writing my stories, it just comes out so naturally. Grammar, spelling, organization, etc. I think it's because I am passionate and love my stories. Everything else? I let myself be lazy. Kind of like the way I talk, only faster-thinking due to lack of anxiety, and a lot more relaxed. I honestly don't know how many of you read my blog, but I'm okay with it. I feel like I'm talking to a person who happens to be a *very* good listener. Thank you for not interrupting me! Hahaha!
Okay, time to write! :-D (P.S. I'll post a random picture here very soon. Something funny or me with my cat. Or a sunset, because we've been getting some beautiful ones lately. ...How about all three! You deserve it.)
68,165 words. Not in G4:O. I had to go back and read the two last chapters of G3:DF, so I couldn't help but fix some grammatical errors and edit some sentences so that they'd make better sense. That book is so long, I had to divide it into 6 separate documents so that I didn't have to wait forever for one file to load to write. So, the last, sixth file, is the one that has 68,165 words in it. I'm just putting it here to remind myself to add it to the G3:DF writing log.
Why did I have to go back and read the last two chapters of G3:DF, you ask? Well, three reasons: When I initially began G4:O, I didn't know how to begin it, so I summarized it. I knew the most important events, but I just couldn't grasp the feel of the book. Maybe it's because I was excited because I knew when the most exciting events would happen. Yes, that must be it. When I was a kid, I was an impatient reader. I wanted to know what would happen next. I couldn't wait. But it was worse with the ending: I'd flip to the end and read the last one or two paragraphs. Of course, nothing would make sense, but at least I felt calm somehow enough to continue reading the book from where I left off. Perhaps the worst thing was me being so anxious, I'd flip ahead and see if a character is still mentioned. And by that I mean if they were still alive in the chapters or near the end. Terrible, worst thing to do to yourself. If you're an impatient reader, don't do it. Just don't. They don't call them spoilers for nothing. I think I wrecked two books for me like that. Finding out that a character dies prematurely is perhaps more devastating than actually reading their brutal, sad scenes. You end up not wanting to read the book anymore.
Anyway, the second reason is because I had to know where my characters left off in the very beginning. I don't want to say more regarding it, as it would instantly give you too big of hints. I just needed more information so that I could continue off where I just had to stop from.
The third reason is merely because it's been driving me nuts. Every time I open up my G4:O document to write, I see hints in the beginning of it that condense several chapters into a mere 1 - 3 sentences. And each of these hints are color coded, which organizes them as each an important event, a sub-climax of the story, if you will. Think of a story as having a graph with peaks-- ...Okay, I remembered something in school about this, but I couldn't remember how it was explained. I had to look it up so I could stop feeling like a dummy. This should say it all. And they're called rising actions, not sub-climaxes.
Okay, now I really need to stop right here. It's 2:06 AM. Good night! (And good day!)
Oh! And I almost forgot! I wrote in G4:O, too!
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10:30 PM? I lost track of what time I stopped because I was trying to multitask.
I was just going to go sit and write, but then my brother called. 5 minutes till midnight. Ugh. I hate ending my day like this. Drama, things going wrong, angry and upset people. I bet if his head were cut off above his vocal chords, he'd be expelling more hot air than he'd be gushing blood. ...Sorry, bad mental image. I blame all those weird anti-smoking commercials of the cold turkey talking through its neck. *shudders* It's been several years since I've watched much cable television, so I don't know if those commercials are still around, but I hope not. It really scared me the first time I watched them, and the thought of them still disturbs me and makes me wonder how a turkey would sound without a head. Um... anyway! O_o
My mom tends to talk loudly and scold him every time he calls. There's always something he's mad about. "I'm gonna' go throw that guy's stuff outside and break it!" Retaliation will get you nowhere, diaperhead. He has a roommate in his adult disability home who has worse mental problems than he does, so the two yell at each other like small children. Not your typical family drama, but it would be funny if it weren't my brother and instead a cartoon. But without all the profanity. Actually, replace bad words with funny, random words and sounds. "You honkety-honkety-honk!" "Your mother is a toilet brush!" Classic, nonsensical, unpredictable comedy. I love that stuff.
Anyway, I had to wait 15 minutes for that silly phone call to end, then I finally sat down to write (Actually, I was already sitting down, playing Pokemon FireRed on my Nintendo DS. With my headphones on to drown my mom out.). I just got done at 2:25 AM. This chapter I just couldn't stop in the middle of. It required some outer space research, some hard thinking, then writing of some fast-paced stuff happening. Whew. Now for some sleep.
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I was starting to have difficulty keeping my eyes open and my head upright, when my cat, Sweetie, must have sensed this or noticed it and jumped down from the chair she was lying on. She rushed over to me with her small, raspy voice snapping at me, "En! En! En!" (By the way, she's getting better at saying my sister's name, Sarah: "Air-eh! Air-eh!" Of course, cats can't make a perfect "S" sound, so she doesn't even try.) She jumped into my lap, pawing at my mouth and chin, purring like crazy, walking all over me, and trying to bite my nose (I tossed my head back and forth, expecting as much. She succeeded once during this struggle.) When I leaned back, because she was crawling all over my chest and getting her furry side in my face, she kept saying, "Oh-ooh-eh? Oh-ooh-eh?" Every once in a while she'll say "Oh-ooh-beh," but not this time. She wants me to go to bed now, without questions. I told her "Wait. Wait.", so now she's coming and going. Reminding me. ...Okay. Now she threw up a few times. She tends to do this late at night when I ignore her. Oh, hello. Now she's in my lap. ...Just to walk across the table to sit in her chair again. Anyway, these are the only times she throws up: When it's late at night and she wants to go to bed, when she has a hairball, and when she is sick. I never knew cats could throw up for reason #1, but I remember many times when I was little when I'd be so tired, I'd feel sick to the stomach. I still get that way when I'm severely sleep-deprived.
It most recently happened on Monday morning, actually. My mom didn't have her day organized on Sunday, so she ended up doing everything last-minute until she finally took a shower a little past midnight. Since our hot water has to gain back, I had to wait to take mine. Needless to say, I couldn't work on Monday. 3 1/2 hours of sleep is not good for anyone. My eyes were so puffy, I struggled to keep my eyes open. And I had that queasiness that I just described. (She has a plan to take hers on Sunday mornings, now. But since she has the memory superpower that rivals that of a fish's, it won't take her long to forget again. If it does, I'll have to resort to doing it on another day/time. I had such a convenient, well-timed schedule pattern for myself, too. I don't like having to disrupt that just because a dunce keeps jumping off her stool and disrupting my class. ...Metaphorically speaking, of course.
Okay, time to give this little one her reward for being so patient. *looks over at Sweetie, who looks over at me with sleepy eyes* I feel so horrible when I make her wait. I feel miserable in my own skin, anyway. ...Sorry. I'm sensitive to others' misery, inconvenience, and scolding. I'm just an over-feeling individual who grew up feeling sorry for inanimate objects when she was a kid. (When things broke, I'd wince and feel their "pain". Please tell me I'm not the only one who was this weird as a kid. Actually, I'm still a little like that. Only, it's mainly evolved into me being sensitive to people unnecessarily slamming doors loudly. Loud sounds hurt my ears + I'm afraid of things breaking and people getting hurt. Bad daydreams.)
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2:32? AM (I forgot. Oops! Close enough.)