Smile, love! <3

"Darkness cannot drive out Darkness; only LIGHT can do that. Hate cannot drive out Hate. Only LOVE can do that." ~Martin Luther King Jr.


A Glimpse at Depression

As far as jealous idiots can go, I can be one of the worst.

September 17, 2017

Hey, thank you for agreeing to listen. I hope that you also feel the need to speak your mind. You have always been a safe place for me, and I hope that you feel the same. No judgments. Just pure honesty. However, emotions are messy, and I apologize if anything I say comes off as harsh, extreme, or worse. All I ask is that you listen, and respond with your own emotions, whether you feel like they will hurt me too. It’s a safe space.

I have two questions for you so ensure there’s no misunderstandings. One, what do you think I want to talk to you about? And two, are you in a relationship?

It shouldn’t come off as a surprise that the last year has been a trial for me. There were points here where I felt like I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror because I just hated myself or was just so depressed. I felt so alone, and nobody back home initiated contact with me. Just me against this foreign, unforgiving world. I regretted confessing to you before I left. Yet, I knew that in my heart, that maybe, that just maybe, you’d give me a chance and that I could depend on you as a lifeline since I knew myself well enough to foresee that I would go through what I did. I hoped that maybe, this time, things would be different and I would have someone to be constantly there. Since our relationship was already turbulent to say the least, I felt that since you didn’t depend on me quite as a friend, maybe romantically, it’d be different. You would depend on me at your low points. I would depend on you at my own low points. That didn’t happen of course and I felt that I fucked up yet again. And yet, deep in my heart, I felt that, rather succumb to the negative energy I felt, I would channel the energy to effect positive change in the community here and love the students and townspeople. I would wait for you and improve myself to be a better man for you.

Over the year, in short spurts we would reunite. And unfortunately, I would always welcome you back with open arms and vice versa, you would welcome me with open arms. Yet as you can probably imagine or even remember, things were always rocky. The interactions we had were always so fleeting. There one moment and gone the next. I felt so angry, so bitter, so sad. I had thought that I could depend on you, but I felt like it was wrong. Since I didn’t know if you really wanted me as a romantic partner, much less a friend, I humored the idea that just maybe, I had a chance with you. That determination to wait for you and improve myself for you would drive me to persist onward, no matter the consequence.
I told you back on Skype last week that I recently had found out I am a demi. Someone who gets attached to people. When I learned that from my buddies Sam and Haley, it made sense why I, whenever we went out to any social gatherings or clubs or any social venue, I would refrain from even trying to date someone, much less touch someone sexually. I remember one Halloween party at a bar in the city where a Japanese friend of mine essentially acted as a wingman and had two Japanese girls after me since they found me attractive. They tried to come on to me very strongly, and yet, I felt that I needed to be friends with them and talked with them for a while about God knows what, them probably wondering why I refused their advances on me. At the back of my mind, “Wait for her. Give her time. Be a better man.”

I got through the dark times.

A few months ago, with little to no contact with you, I did a ton of reconsidering, reorienting my life for a number of reasons. I hated how whenever something joyful, or beautiful, or wonderful, or terrible happened, my first instinct was to message you or tell you about it. Yet, as I had told you previously, my love language is words of affirmation, and getting no sense of affirmation whenever I told you about something great that happened or anything, left me feeling broken. If she wouldn’t be present at the times where I’m actually happy, how can I depend on her when I’m truly down again? I felt angry. And sad. And disappointed. Emotions that are rare for me, and yet, I often feel in regards to you. It really wasn’t healthy at all being so attached to you. I asked myself, What is loving you the way I do all for? Loving you like I did? I’m being selfish. You would never see my worth and I would never be good enough for you. That’s depressing. I will never be good enough for you. I was tired of trying so hard for you. You had always told me how different you were, and that perhaps I was truly just in love with the concept of you, not really you herself. We were strangers. I figured you didn’t need me in your life and I had done enough waiting. The toll on my mental state and heart was just too much. Why continue waiting if you didn’t even consider trying to be there for me? It took awhile, but I convinced myself that these were the case. Alongside these notions, I became mentally and emotionally ready to cut you out of my life because you are toxic to me. I can’t move forward properly without that happening. I became satisfied with myself, that I can finally take that first step to recovery, to loving myself rather loving you.

And then a little less than a couple weeks ago, you messaged me, saying how much you missed me and thinking about me made your heart hurt and your regrets and how proud of me you were. When you first sent the message, I tried so hard to ignore it and just delete it. I knew that I needed to delete it and move on. I had steeled myself to do this to recover, after all. But I’m weak-willed and a stupid piece of shit. I opened your message, and read it. And I even responded. Why? Why would you do that Jordan? You were doing so well… And the conversation continued. Each time, me trying so hard to not open the message and to just carry on with life. I couldn’t though. You were always the only exception. No matter what I did, no matter what I do, I always allow you back into my life.

The things you said. They gave me hope. Hell, you gave me so much hope that I didn’t know what to do with it but share it with my students and coworkers and townspeople. This hope saw me rebound with energy I never thought I had. We were conversing like old times and we even skyped, the first time since me going to Japan. That was the first time you willingly went out of your way to Skype with me. And we skyped for hours. It was honestly so refreshing and I felt so damn happy, like I couldn’t believe how jubilant I felt. I went to sleep that night feeling so content—it was just like old times and as if nothing had changed between us.

We kept talking, like messaging really often about the little things and the big things. Again like old times. I was happy to have you back in my life. Unfortunately, I had interpreted the fact that we were suddenly on such good terms and the high frequency of talking as your volition to actually consider me as something more than a friend, or at least attempt to try. I messaged you often on the car ride while roadtripping to Sapporo with my buddy, about the small happinesses I was experiencing, and vice versa on your end. Pure bliss.

On Saturday, I wake up to your message, “I feel really empty.” Of course, I strive to ensure you’re okay and you say it’s nothing, actually something really stupid. You tell me that, you’re alright, but had a big fight with your boyfriend again about recurring issues. But it’d be fine. My heart drops. “Boyfriend?” I think. Hold on. I’ve waited for how long, you knew my feelings for you, and you have a boyfriend? Seriously? Fucking shit. Despite the feelings I felt, I tried to be there, but you insist you’re fine. “Ima get off the grid then!” I wanted to just enjoy the company with my buddy and process things properly. I felt heartbroken and angry and disappointed. I started crying in the car on the way to the camp.

The camp was amazing. With 30 or so ALTs, it was refreshing getting to know people and just chat away the pain I felt. Everyone was so lovely, and somehow, I developed a crush on someone there after talking with her for hours. Night comes and the party begins. Jordan gets drunk. I did things and said things that I couldn’t believe I had the capacity to do. Either way, I felt like shit.

I tried hard to distance myself from you thereafter, but never had the resolution to just ignore your messages and do what was best for me, which was to take the time necessary to cool down and not play the blame game. I was being petty, and I had thought so many nasty things. Nothing’s different. I’m just that guy she goes back to when she is having a hard time with the bad relationships she finds herself intricately involved with fall apart. The fleeting happiness that I felt isn’t worth the long term pain. Yes, I care about you. But if every fucking time you leave me feeling this heartbroken, I can’t. If I am to be a part of your happiness, it can’t be like this. I don’t even think we can even be friends because I’ll always feel the same love for you and you’ll always just crush me in the end. And perhaps vice versa.

It’s extremely frustrating that you had decided to contact me when I felt so ready to move on, after neglecting me for so long acting as if my feelings were negligible. Feigning ignorance or goodwill when you knew how I felt and how long I’ve waited all this time for you.

Again, maybe I’m just being petty. I’m just mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted from dealing with this shit for so long. You’ve never given me the opportunity and always been unfair like this. You’re in control of my heart. I’m fixated on you, and it’s not healthy at all.

What do you want? My friendship? Am I even able to give that to you? I can’t think I have the emotional capacity to do that as long as I feel like I’m not worthless in your eyes. I care too much about people and human relationships to feel the need to respond and affirm people for my own happiness, but the feeling’s ten-fold for you, which is dangerous. Logically, I need to get of your life. But because I see you the way I do, with this unconditional love, I can’t. It’s unfair, and I hate myself for being like this.

Yesterday, I woke up to sirens and alerts. I’m on the fourth floor of a capsule hotel in Sapporo, the largest city in Hokkaido. People’s phones are lighting up with messages. People are waking up, and some are evacuating. A missile was flying overhead, again. I’m terrified. I’m shaking, and my first instinct? To call you. To let you know that if anything happens to me, I love you. No, I can’t say that. Instead, I need to focus on my responsibilities as a block leader. From experience from the first missile, it will take approximately five minutes for the missile upon launch to reach Hokkaido and touchdown, if it happens. I message the new ALTs in the area immediately, “Another missile launched and passing overhead. Please be safe, fam.” I stay vigilant and focused. Yes, I’m shaking and terrified, but I needed to act. I look up information on the missile, staying knowledgeable and ready to inform my block members of any changes. Fuck I’m scared. What happens if I die today? Five minutes of pure adrenaline, and the missile passes overhead and we get the all clear, but to stay alert for any other missiles. On the verge of tears, I tell my block members that we’re all clear, and assuage their own fears, since many expressed concern last time and on this occasion too. I needed to stay strong.

Throughout the day, I’m in a funk. I couldn’t focus. Again, I could’ve died, eradicated from this earth. I felt melancholic. For nearly everybody, my fellow ALTs in Hokkaido, they received a phone call from loved ones back home, worried about their safety and well-being. I didn’t. I’m alone. Obviously, I can’t expect a call from my family. And friends? I don’t have any close friends; it’s always been like that. If I die today, what was my life all for?

I preoccupy myself ensuring my block members are feeling ok after the scare, and in the midst, I got a message from you. Shit. Feeling like the scum of the earth, I ignore it. James also messages me, which is rare unless something is off with you. Call me suspicious, or whatever. He asks about my birthday, which I misinterpret as him asking if I’m okay about the missile. “I mean if the missile hit and I died, then I’d have no regrets. But there are so many things to do and so many places to see and so many people to meet.” As soon as I said that, I questioned myself. Would I really have no regrets? Was I really truly living like I’m dying? And the answer is, I don’t know. I can’t help but to feel that I have many regrets, many having to do with you, nearly all stemming back to the how I missed my opportunity to ask you out freshman year and not being there for you in the ensuing chaos in sophomore year.

I spent all day today crying and existing, feeling like a piece of shit, scum on the earth.


Stream of Consciousness (9/1/19)

The world is spinning around

But here I am sitting here

On the ground, nobody to rely on but myself

Nothing to consider, except all that I’ve dealt with

A tiny cog in the machine that’s life

Doesn’t matter if I have a will just matters the type of

Person I am, whether I play the part

And knowing full well I don’t have the talent, nor the brains to

Make a mark on this world, a useless piece of fuck

A random existence that doesn’t have the capacity to even

Help the world, much less help himself

Stuck with the cards he was dealt

No joker to bail him out

He’s lost this bout


Beneath the Mask (8/30/19)


Beneath the Mask – The scrawls of an emerging adult in a foreign land masquerading as an instructor. A rebellious persona hoping to take your heart.

stop bugging me

Friday, August 30, 2019 –  Rain

Another day of rain. When will it fucking stop?

Seems like I’ve been afflicted by bugs of the worst variety these past days amidst the rain:

  1. Bug-bugs – Mosquitos and cockroaches, the former biting me throughout the night and the latter randomly showing up in my genkan.
  2. Stomach bug – Day five of the worst stomach flu I’ve had in recent memory, with nary a reprieve once nature calls.
  3. Love bug – Yup, the worst of the three. I’ll just leave it at that.

I know myself well enough that I can’t simply be idle. Sure, it’s good to get some rest and have breaks to reenergize the heart, mind, and soul–God knows I need it as an introvert–yet, that’s completely different than being idle with nothing to do.

This past week has been summer break. Many would relish in the opportunity to have the unadulterated time to do what they’d like, but not me apparently. To me, idleness leads to unnecessary thinking in copious amounts, which in turn serves as a catalyst, if not a means to stimulate inherently lurking depression.

People often ask me, “Jordan, why are you so busy?” or “You’ve done so much. How do you do it?” and I often relent, “I like to keep busy” or “I don’t really know haha.” In truth, one crucial reason is to stave of this mental illness I face.

So honestly, it was stressful knowing that upon arriving in Tokyo ready to start training and working right off the bat (I cut my own visit to the states short to do so), I was told that after just three days of training, there would be a summer break for a week. That’s all fine and dandy, but why the hell was I not told this in advance so I could’ve perhaps made plans to counteract against the idleness I would inevitably face and not get down like this. The simple act of not informing me negates all the hard work that went into self-help and energy utilized to keeping me afloat in Tokyo.

The excitement and adrenaline tangibly felt in coming here has faded and all I’m left with is this stupid depression.

Sure, I can go out and explore and get familiarized with the area, you may argue. But alas, Tokyo is goddamn expensive. And just to get situated with a new apartment, new furniture, a new bike, etc. took a ton of money that my savings barely survived the affront of upfront costs. This feeds into the perhaps self-fulfilling prophecy that by virtue of having no money and nothing to do, I have to stay in my house, which in turn saps all motivation, energy, and reason, until I’m left wallowing in self-pity.

Who knows? I’m ranting now and I need to stop.

Oh shit, nature’s calling for the fourth fucking time today in day five of the stomach bug.

I hope that you’re doing well regardless. Thanks for sticking with me until the end–I appreciate it.

Beneath the Mask (8/27/19)


Beneath the Mask – The scrawls of an emerging adult in a foreign land masquerading as an instructor. A rebellious persona hoping to take your heart.

and yet, rain falls

Tuesday, August 27, 2019 –  Rain

Just a little over a week in Tokyo and the depression has seemed to finally hit.

I knew it was coming–every major change in my life has been marked with a profound low after all–and I had hoped that by making ample preparations to combat said mental illness, it would be easier to cope with.

And yet, as it goes, it isn’t any easier.

This goddamn rain is endless.

Luckily, however, I’ve become accustomed to reaching out during these depressive episodes, and taking care of myself unlike in the past.

Tonight, this meant biking through the rain to McDonald’s to get a double Big Mac, fries, and a Coke.

I feel markedly better than before.

And yet, that constant, nagging feeling of worthlessness still eats away at me.

I know, without a shadow of a doubt, I’ve made a difference in peoples’ lives these last few years.

This week, one buddy described me as a legendary Pokémon of an ALT, who all ALTs aspire to be like.

A couple days ago, another friend mentioned I had made a profound impact on her life just by existing.

Even last night, my former students came to Tokyo and all of them took the time to see me, chat a bit, and take pictures with me, many mentioning how they were so glad to see me.

And yet, have I done enough? Will anything I have done be enough? Fuck.

Logic and evidence say one thing, while pathos and emotion say otherwise. What the hell is the truth and why the hell can’t they be reconciled?

Either way, I must not discount my own achievements and discredit my own existence. I realize that, but I can’t exactly say that I believe it… yet.

I hope that I too can reach the apex of my personal mountain one day and wallow in the knowledge that maybe, just maybe, I too am worth it.

For now though, I’ll just let the rain fall.

To you reading this entry, please know that it’s okay to feel down. Even in that dark period, people love you and validate you and really care for you.

We all have our own mountains to climb, some harder than others–but at the end of the day, no matter what you’re facing, you are worth it. It’s an uphill climb and sometimes we may fall.


being as an adult


Beneath the Mask (8/21/19)


Beneath the Mask – The scrawls of an emerging adult in a foreign land masquerading as an instructor. A rebellious persona hoping to take your heart.

flopped first impressions and yet nobody cares

Wednesday, August 21, 2019 –  Overcast

Today was my first day of training at my new workplace in Tokyo. Due to botched communication and a number of misunderstandings, as I was making the 45 minute commute to work, hoping to arrive an hour early to grab lunch and go over materials previously presented to me to be extra prepared, I get a call from the head teacher, asking if I was lost. Turns out, the school was undergoing summer hours and as such, had begun 1.5 hours prior. Appalled, I apologized and mentioned how I had thought my main contact for work had mentioned to come in at 1 P. Turns out after rereading our correspondence, I was wrong–he mentioned in a brief aside that it was summer hours and in the chaos of moving and settling into city life, I had mistakenly assumed all was as usual. I quickly grabbed a bite to eat, scarfed it down, changed out of my sweaty clothes, and ran to the office in professional garb.

Out of breath, I barely muttered in Japanese to the front desk staff that I was the new hire here for training. She laughed, and responded in English that they had been waiting for me. Behind her sat a handful of teachers, my new coworkers, and Dom, who had called me earlier.

“I apologize for the mishap.”

“No worries, we’re just glad you made it.”

I glanced around the small office–a computer was set to the infamous study lo-fi beats on YouTube; the other teachers were eating and happily chatting away; the office seemed a tad cluttered but in an organized chaotic fashion. Students laughs were audible as the lounge lay within earshot.

Well, here I am.

To keep a long post short, today was, for lack of a better word, wild. I had come in to observe five classes with five different teachers, one kindergarten, two 2nd-3rd grade, and two JHS. Here are a few of my observations from the day:

These students are on a whole different level than I’m used to.

Being the children of expats, and having the experience of speaking English abroad, their levels were astronomically high when compared to my prior students in Fukushima. The kindergartners engaged in lively discussion using grammar structures my junior high 3rd years had barely learned; the 2nd/3rd graders were speed reading passages that would make any Japanese high schooler learning English shy; the JHS students engaged in lively debate and constructed essays from notes they wrote in the Cornell method in regards to creating a barrier free world for the visually impaired. Speaking with some of the teachers, it turned out most of the JHS students had already passed Eiken (standardized English test for the Japanese) level 1, the highest level offered. Meanwhile, in Fukushima, one of my greatest achievements was having one of my “advanced” English high schoolers pass level 2, a rarity for most students throughout Hokkaido.

Diversity (culturally) abounds in the office.

Chatting away with some of the teachers, turns out they’re all a mixed bag from different countries: Australia, South Africa, the US, the UK, etc. This echoes the JET Program, which I was a member of as a teacher/ALT as of a few weeks ago. Speaking of which, I found out that of the 40+ teachers within the various offices, only three ex-JETs remain, including me. It was wonderfully enriching hearing the various accents and pronunciations all around me. Plus, everyone was so friendly. Conversely, I will say too that it was a tad curious being the only non-white person in the office.

The students are so beautifully expressive, even having just met me.

Having just met me, clearly not one of their nakama, it was obvious at first glance I was new. The students approached this with stride and curiousity. As I sat in and took notes while observing classes, the students would excitedly ask me questions and involve me in their discussions. Sure, this might change as I get ingrained into the “grind,” but it was refreshing seeing such motivated students learning English for two hours AFTER their normal school hours. This place is their escape and the rapid learning environment keeps them focused and driven to express themselves in English, with many, I heard, having only this place as their sole means to engage in an all natural English environment. I experienced first-hand that certain students were in places like Michigan for four years, Hong Kong for three years, Australia for five years, etc. So it may not be surprising that, due to being in these environments during their formative years, they had crystal-clear English pronunciation, with many having noticeable accents hailing from the region they had been raised abroad in.

We’re not in Kansas anymore.

KA is without a doubt, a curiously unique place. Emphasized since day one, the school is built on a culture of caring, and it was obvious how much the teachers and staff cared about the students, which the students whole-heartedly reciprocated in turn. In Fukushima, it took me years to tear down the face exhibited by students, get in their inner circles, and truly appreciate their unique personas. Yet, in KA, students jumped at the opportunity to be themselves without feeling a need to fake anything. It was comforting. It was refreshing. It was reassuring. Many times during the day, I had completely forgotten that I was in Japan, laughing along to the pop culture anecdotes and parallels drawn by the instructors in a way of speaking that was both friendly and professional. Other times, I had to remember that I wasn’t the student, and would soon play the role of the educator, facilitating lively discussions and fostering this native environment for these students to call their home. I have a lot of room to grow and a ton to continue learning; and, I’m excited and humbled at the prospect of playing a crucial role for these students.

And that’s all she wrote. See you next time.

Beneath the Mask (8/19/19)


Beneath the Mask – The scrawls of an emerging adult in a foreign land masquerading as an instructor. A rebellious persona hoping to take your heart.

here we go again

Monday, August 19, 2019 –  Rain

Today, I finally moved to Tokyo from a tiny town called Fukushima which I had called home for three years.

It’s wild. Things definitely aren’t the same. Or maybe they are?

Here I am again, in my world, just like three years prior, to record my musings, reflections, and ultimately vent whatever feelings, thoughts, and emotions that I’m generally unable to express w/o a proper audience.

No doubt, I’m already overwhelmed.

Three years ago, when I first moved to Fukushima, there were so many people who I had the pleasure to be under their care since day one, even if I didn’t know it at the time—the BOE, the teachers, the townspeople, prior ALTs, the JET Program, etc. This ensured a so-called smooth transition to what would be my first escapade into the land of Japan. Albeit rocky (I had to bike to the nearest museum for WiFi back then for two weeks), I had had a ton of support and resources at my disposal. Either way though, I struggled, I flopped, I cried. To prevent my successor from feeling the way I had my first month, I stayed a week past the end of my contract to help her build rapport with all those I had the pleasure to come to know in Fukushima. Though likely overwhelmed, I know without a doubt that she appreciates the act, and that those who I tasked with her care really will do (and are doing) the best job possible. She has so much support, even if she may not see it right now. 4,000 people (though depopulating) in a warm, homey town.

Meanwhile, in Tokyo, here I am. One within millions in a suburb called “Kitami” in Setagaya Ward, 40 minutes from the heart of Tokyo via JR railway, an area renown for its ideal living areas and with people constantly trickling by. The support and resources I had come to rely on in Fukushima to the point of taking for granted of are null. These are many things that kinda came with the package of moving to Japan under the JET Program: People who could empathize with your plight as hundreds flock to Japan at the same time with the same job, an already established living situation complete with rent, furniture (oh God, you don’t think of it until it doesn’t exist), utilities worked out, people expecting you (many with open arms), and many other luxuries. JET, although heralded as a first job for many, it lacks much of what is oft associated with the career world, namely, independence. From day one, you are shoe-into a spot that once was occupied from someone else. Work, life, and everything else is set into stone, an already established grind that existed decades prior. And people wholly rely on that structure.

I did too. So it came as a shock of sorts to me having to find my new job (through the bullshit that Japanese companies put you through), find my new apartment (after months of racism/discrimination), establish utilities, establish move-in dates, contact internet companies, purchase basic luxuries (e.g. groceries, toiletries, dishes, etc.), acquire furniture (everything from tables, chairs, fridge, washing machine, vacuum, even LIGHTBULBS), and everything one doesn’t typically think of when moving somewhere new. Luckily, most places are already furnished by the time a new tenant moves in in the states. Despite that, in Japan, when one moves into someplace new, you get literally the bare minimum. And perhaps that’s okay. I should be grateful to have a roof over my head, even if rent is literally five times of what I paid in Hokkaido and the places is ¼ the size of my previous place.

So here I am, in a nearby convenience store, Lawson, which I had the pleasure of living near back in Fukushima. And luckily, this Lawson is relatively close to where I live now. I couldn’t find a café open late to write this like I had preferred, but this Lawson, unlike the one in my previous town, has an “eat-in” corner. Honestly it feels a bit strange not seeing my students, their parents, and familiar faces running the counters like in Fukushima. But isn’t that obvious when moving to a new town?

Now, a quick pro-tip: Airlines can treat your luggage real shittily. I say that because in the three flights from Las Vegas to Tokyo, one of the airlines managed to lose one of two of my checked-in bags, and break my other bag. It’s no fun walking two kms (~1 mi) dragging a 22 kg (48 lb) suitcase through hilly areas in 100% humidity and 30 C (~90 F) weather. Heat stroke is a thing to be feared and had I not taken ample rest and drank sufficient amounts of water, I may not have made it to my new apartment today. But I made it, even if barely, complete with pounding migraine.

Through the frustration of today, I had much time to reflect. Unlike three years ago, I won’t give in to the influx of emotions and admit defeat. I’d like to end this entry with a few positive notes:

*People are kind. Whether they are supporting you from the shadows, or openly relaying how much you mean to them, many people are here for you. It has been a joy receiving messages from prior students, teachers, friends, and colleagues since this journey began. Getting a call from my favourite old man was a real treat last night.

*Cities shouldn’t be underestimated. I thought it strange that within the vicinity of my new place, there weren’t many restaurants, shops, etc. according to Google Maps. After some exploring, turns out there’s a wealth of places to be discovered. I found a McDonald’s literally a five-minute walk from my apartment!

*Always be grateful. Despite your circumstances, there are many things to be grateful for. Whether that be having money for a bite, or simply having the time to take a quick stroll around with a healthy heart, there are so many things to be thankful for. I’m simply grateful to be alive and on this new adventure.

Thanks for reading to the end, and hope to talk to you soon, dear reader. More posts to come!


Needed to see this today.