Category: Personal


So Emo

Having an Emo day? I am. Loving the new job, but those first couple defining weeks — you know, where you’re either identified as MVP or fumble the ball — are killer. Pandora has “some relief from the emo”:http://www.pandora.com/?sc=sh82150324808506612.

Things are good, really, though. I like working hard. I like showing up at the office, dressed sharp and ready to take names and…well, “you know the rest”:http://www.google.com/search?num=100&hl=en&lr=&q=%22taking+names+and+kicking+*%22&btnG=Search. It’s a nice change from hating my job and being stuck in spreadsheet hell.

I’ve been writing at the Newark blog again, which I’ve been calling the “Daily Newarker”:http://blog.newarker.info/, of late. The “K2 theme”:http://getk2.com has been pretty stable, so I’ve been able to add some features. I recently was annoyed when I couldn’t get Google Ads working on the site. It took me 30 minutes, but eventually I figured out that my “ad blocker”:http://adblockplus.org/en/ was preventing my from seeing them. Lol and all the rest.

Europe feels like it was 6 months ago, but I’ve been working on the next blog entry about our trip. Sorry to leave y’all hanging there. We’re alive and well, and better for having gone. I spent what must have been five hours this past weekend trying to grind out another story, and I have a newfound respect for trilogy authors: part II is always tough.

More pictures will be going up soon of our trip to Europe. The hard drive on the laptop is stuffed to the rafters, though, so I can’t post new stuff until I can get it off the camera. I had this problem in Europe, too, and spent not a few hours paring and slicing and thinning out the content on the drive to make room.

I religiously rate my iTunes music so every once in a while I can dump the crap (songs rated 2 *’s are not long for this world). I’ve started the same habit with photos, too, which makes a lot of sense: why keep 20 photos of the same sunset trying to catch just the right shot when you can keep the one photo that tells the story and clear 30 MB of disk space by deleting the other 19? I might blog about our photo workflow at some point, but that’s it in a nutshell.

I got an email today telling me that “Festivus is upon us”:http://flickr.com/photos/matthewkrautheim/76472941/. I can’t wait.

Update: We’re back to the grind, but writing takes time. In the meantime: photos! “London”:http://flickr.com/photos/kennsarah/sets/72157594313249803/, “Berlin”:http://flickr.com/photos/kennsarah/sets/72157594329081504/, “Frankfurt Day Trips”:http://flickr.com/photos/kennsarah/sets/72157594322198201/, “Munich”:http://flickr.com/photos/kennsarah/sets/72157594329065327/, “Austrian Alps”:http://flickr.com/photos/kennsarah/sets/72157594329053756/, “Florence”:http://flickr.com/photos/kennsarah/sets/72157594346417126/, “Rome”:http://flickr.com/photos/kennsarah/sets/72157594346422642/.

Our first week in Europe has been harrowing and exhilirating. The first two stops — London and Berlin — were vibrant cities rich with history that Sarah and I can relate to and even remember.

London is a bustling center of fashion and high finance, and we found ourselves right at home with the pace of the city that was very much like New York. While the only Londoners we met were people trying to sell us stuff (again, not too unlike NYC), many of the people we interacted with were kind. Our favorite person by far was Alan, our double-decker bus tour guide. With his microtirades on the “Gherkin” building and the Fergie’s pop video “London Bridge”, he was like Ricky Gervais on a bus — his occasionally sarcastic Tour Guide role played very much like David from the BBC comedy, The Office.

I have to admit that it took a while for London’s charms to set in, but it finally happened while we were standing in Trafalgar Square at dusk. Standing in front of the National Gallery as Big Ben lit up in the distance — just breathtaking. That same afternoon, we’d had a delicious High Tea at the historically frou-frou Fortnam & Mason hotel. Even the photos of our food makes me hungry for scones and Earl Grey.

We left London after a break-neck tour of the National Museum, seeing _the_ Rosetta Stone — used by archeologists to translate hieroglyphs and unlock 4000 years of ancient written culture — Assyrian stone tablets and gates, and the greek Elgin Marbles, which the Apostle Paul likely saw in the Acropolis when he arrived in Rome.

We’d run out of cash on the last of our three days in London, so I went to use the ATM. I should have known there was a problem with our card when I had tried to download an album from iTunes just the night before and the transaction was rejected. Sure enough, the ATM gobbled up our card, with no way of getting it back. We had a whole 20 GBP left to make it through the day in crazy-expensive London while we waited for an opportune time to call the bank.

After the museum, we grabbed a cheap lunch from a nearby supermarket, caught the tube to the airport and took a flight to Berlin.

Getting to Berlin is a story in itself as we flew into town at 10:30 PM — apparently past closing time for the ticket counter. With our Eurail pass yet to be validated, we risked having the pass confiscated or facing a 40 Euro fine. With 92 pence left in my pocket, we prayed as we rode the S-Bahn into town that we would be able to avoid either of these dire consequences. No one ever checked our pass.

Berlin is an amazing city with a short and dramatic history. Once the home of Hitler’s totalitarian regime only to become the site of American/USSR tensions during the Cold War, the city is now rebounding under unified Germany. Our efforts to get a new ATM card sent to our next stop killed half a day, sending me trolling around the city for free Wi-Fi. Later that afternoon, though, we were able to take in the sights as we walked through Rick Steves’ do-it-yourself tour on Bus #100. The bombed-out Wilhelm Memorial Church near Bahnhof Zoo and the shelling damage in the marble Victory Column in Tiergarten were not-so-subtle reminders of Berlin’s recent past, and it was eerie to stand there and imagine the sounds of air raid sirens and tanks as American forces bombarded the city during World War II.

Stranger still were the sights of Nazi sculptures nestled in the trees around the Victory Column — which was moved to the “Central Park” of Berlin by Hitler himself in anticipation of the victory marches following the defeat of the Allied forces. Further uptown we found the impressively large Reichstag parlimentary building. The proud hulk of a building stands as reminder of the hope of a unified Germany. Outside the building is the memorial to the early senators who were persecuted and killed because they opposed Hitler as he rose to power. We walked south of the Reichstag to find Brandenburg Gate and, beyond it, Pariser Square. The Berlin Wall once cut right past this gate and, as we crossed into what used to be East Berlin, we were astonished to find a Starbucks. We sat and had a latté from one of the most capitalist of institutions inside of what, only 40 years ago, was one of the most fortified communist strongholds.

From there, we toured Unter den Linden and strolled past fancy car dealerships, embassies, and historic landmarks (including the Hotel Adlom, where Michael Jackson dangled his child from the balcony). We took in the sights and made our way to what used to be known as Checkpoint Charlie, where a replica of the original gate stands alongside a new and bewildering museum remembering the stories of those daring enough to escape into West Berlin.

The next day, still strapped for cash, we stopped short of entering the Pergamon museum to see the Gates of Ischtar — an ancient Assyrian structure which we’d seen pieces of in the Metropolitan Museum of Art just the week before. Not able to pay the 10 Euro admittance for each of us, we settled instead on buying a small cardboard cut-out for our pastor, who is now preaching through the Book of Daniel.

Afterwards, we boarded a train for our next stop, Frankfurt, with a handful of small bills and cheese sandwiches we’d created from our hotel’s breakfast buffet.

After the Jump

I’ve never resigned from a job before. The experience was a little surreal, even while I was having the conversation with my boss. His look of shock helped, though.

I wasn’t looking forward to it at all. I have a decent working relationship with him, but my manager and I haven’t been close. I hadn’t the slightest idea of whether he was going to laugh, be furious, or get strangely quiet. Getting a new job can be a lot of fun, but I think only the most bitter employees look forward to quitting.

There’s nothing quite like changing jobs to teach you about the sovereignty of God. I had breakfast with Frank that morning and he raised the question: “So, what have you been doubting Him about lately?” I don’t know whether it’s the corporate world or because we constantly struggled with finances when I was growing up, but I’m often pressed with the weight of responsibility of providing for my family.

Beyond the immediate, we also talked about the idea of one’s “Life’s Work” and of having “arrived” in one’s own career. I think artists struggle with this question in a more dynamic way than many business people, but I think everyone working a job they don’t like wonders what they should _really_ be doing with their lives.

In the end, after the initial shock, my manager was ecstatic for me. He said I was one of the best people he’s worked with, that my career growth was limited in my current role, and said I made absolutely the right decision. I was floored — of all the things to come out of his mouth, I expected this the least.

My new job within Citigroup starts at the end of the month, and then we leave for three weeks for Europe. I’m looking forward to stepping back from work for a while and getting some perspective on what it really means to eat and drink and find satisfaction in my work.

Before the Jump

Darryl came by the old stomping grounds on his way to the color printer. “Hey Ken, you’re good with databases and web development, right?”

“Sure, why?”

“‘Cause Adam has a job he’s looking to fill. You should ask him about it.”

“Okay, sure, I’ll send him an email.”

***

h3. August 4^th^

“monster interview questions”:http://www.google.com/search?q=monster+interview+questions&hl=en → “Monster: At the Interview”:http://interview.monster.com/archives/attheinterview/ (3:51 PM) → “Six Interview Mistakes”:http://interview.monster.com/articles/sixmistakes/

***

I met Dan for lunch after having bumped into him on Church Street two months before. I know him, but not really well — just some passing conversations in church and during his work in his “former life.”

We met up over pizza and swapped stories about work. Dan is really excited about his job: he’s a product manager for the CRM system at an education and curriculum company, and they’re branching out into other enterprisey information tools like ERP. He’s being stretched, and he’s learning the nuances of project management in a large organization. He asked me how things were with my job.

I told him what I did, and that I was sorta working on making a change. I mentioned in passing that I was concerned that my leaving my group was going to be pretty disruptive with a major project coming up in September, and that I might try to work out helping with that project for a few weeks in my new role. “No,” he stabbed a plastic fork in the air, “two weeks, that’s it.” But I don’t want to burn any bridges, I said. “Fine, then don’t burn any bridges. But just give them two weeks. You’re too talented to be doing things like taking meeting minutes and scheduling video conference calls.”

***

h3. August 13^th^

“transfer internally career advice”:http://www.google.com/search?q=transfer+internally+career+advice&hl=en&lr=&safe=off → “Being Bold Blog: Managing Internal Transfers”:http://www.boldcareer.com/blog/archives/2004/11/15/managing_internal_transfers.html (12:30 AM) → “Transfer Internally the Right Way”:http://change.monster.com/articles/internaltransfer/

***

I ran into Marty as I was walking across campus the other day. We exchanged pleasantries and he asked what I was up to. “Oh, the same old thing,” I told him.

“The _same_ old thing?” he asked, incredulous — and maybe a little disappointed. This same manager shook my hand in his office before he left the group and told me in no uncertain terms that I should be looking for another job. He thought well of the work I’d done for him during the eight months we’d worked together, but that he was unsure of the future of the group and the stability of my role.

After a quick internal calculus, I decided to keep my mouth shut, “Yeah, a few tweaks, but pretty much the same old thing.”

***

h3. August 17^th^

“rands resignation checklist”:http://www.google.com/search?q=rands+resignation+checklist&hl=en&lr → “Rands In Repose: YOUR RESIGNATION/LAYOFF CHECKLIST”:http://www.randsinrepose.com/archives/2002/06/29/your_resignationlayoff_checklist.html (11:18 AM)

Tradition

So, in the fine tradition of blogging “about sandwiches”:http://textism.com/article/798/monty-you-terrible-word after long “blogging absences”:http://kennsarah.net/2006/07/30/one-thing-rethinking-on-the-radar/#comment-1875, I’m pleased to report that I finally had the long-coveted “PB&J sandwich”:http://www.panera.com/familynutritionalprofile.aspx?familyid=228 at Panera. I’ve been debating ordering this from the kids menu since they started offering several weeks ago. First, some highlights:

* Yes, I did feel a little stupid ordering it
* But, only after the guy behind the counter asked if I wanted apple juice or chocolate milk
* I got a fountain drink instead
* The sandwich had grape jelly on it
* I would have preferred strawberry
* The bread was awesome
* It came with chips
* I wasn’t offered (nor did I ask for) the squeezable yogurt

All in all, it was _really_ good. And, given that my entire Panera lunch cost me a whopping $3.28 (!), I’d totally do it again.

Totally unrelated: I know I haven’t been _blogging_ per se, but I have been digging. Check the links over at the left. If you need the feed, “here it is”:http://digg.com/rss/kwalker411/index2.xml.

Friday: Panera in the ‘burbs, and “An Inconvenient Truth”:http://climatecrisis.net/ at Montclair Theaters. We wondered why Al Gore seemed like such a condescending jerk in the presidential election in 2000, but such an intelligent, passionate politician in this movie. We also wondered if Apple paid out for the “product placement”:http://www.apple.com/hotnews/articles/2006/05/inconvenienttruth/ that made the movie feel, at times, like a long “Think Different”:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Think_Different commercial. (Probably not, Al Gore is already “on the payroll”:http://www.apple.com/pr/bios/gore.html at Apple.) The movie was very thought-provoking — you should see it.

We drove back home on Bloomfield Avenue through Newark and thought we may have heard a gunshot while waiting at a stoplight. We won’t take that route ever again.

Saturday: Sarah worked while I went to Riviera to pirate wifi and people-watch. Moved the blog over to a DreamHost “one-click install”:http://wiki.dreamhost.com/index.php/One_Click_Installs setup. This makes upgrading WordPress one-click when new versions come out. I also got rid of a lot of old, crufty files left over from the Movable Type days, which was “over a year ago”:http://kennsarah.net/2005/02/12/migrated-to-wordpress/ now. Spent the afternoon working on a household budget application that I’ve been trying to write. It’s like a spreadsheet, but lets you save different budget versions so you can do what-if scenarios. I should have written this a long time ago.

Sunday: The Village Church. Brunch in the “Tasting Room at Philip Marie”:http://philipmarie.com/page/vyhp/Private_Rooms.html. John Pa and I discussed some bachelor party plans with “Tom”:http://canaanbound.blogspot.com, which he seemed resistant to. Came home and watched Ray — also good.

Monday: “Sick day” from work, so I slept in while Dina worked some of that therapy dog magic (generally hogging the couch on which I was sleeping). Dinner later that night and Krispy Kreme at our “favorite exit off of Route 81″:http://www.google.com/maps?num=100&hl=en&lr=&safe=off&q=krispy+kreme&near=Clarks+Summit,+PA+18411&radius=0.0&cid=41487795,-75705713,17176720887031646617&li=lmd&ie=UTF8&ll=41.498678,-75.691166&spn=0.058885,0.117073&om=1 in Pennsylvania with the Posegate clan. More Evan photos soon.

Spent Saturday cleaning up the apartment for our guest, whom Sarah brought home with her from Manhattan in a carseat. Owen Pesnell stayed with us overnight Saturday so Darin & Krissy could celebrate their anniversary. Owen did really well with us, and we even returned him mostly-undamaged. A short jaunt down to the Independence Park gave us lots of photo opps as Owen slid, climbed, rocked, and ran himself out of baby-steam.

Unfortunately, with all his frivolity, he (and we) didn’t notice his collision course with an oncoming miniature bicyclist. After bouncing his noggin off of the sidewalk, we thought for sure we were in for a full-fledged freak out. Instead, he shrugged us off and proceeded to the nearest climbing wall. When I told Krissy, she nodded sagely and replied, “Yup, that’s our son.”

Dina was very excited to greet our new guest, who was less-than-enthused to be covered in dog saliva. Most of our effort that night was in helping Dina resist the urge to inspect the squeeling, taunting, food-flinging toddler. Pictures forth-coming.

Sunday at the Village Church, where Darin _rocked_ the “Deuteronomy 8 passage”:http://www.villagechurchnyc.com/worship/sermons/2006/06/the-meaning-of-the-desert/ he and I had discussed only a few days earlier. It was cool to hear some of our conversations surface in his message. Great job, Pez.

That afternoon we treated Charlie to all the _paella_ and _sangria_ he could consume, and 3 months of Netflix for Father’s Day.

After Charlie and Irene had gone, Dina, Sarah and I collapsed on the bed and napped.

Then I installed “this”:http://roundcube.net/ to replace our “crappy webmail”:http://wiki.dreamhost.com/index.php/RoundCube.

Monday came too soon.

First Car

My first car was a 1982 “Buick Skyhawk”:http://www.carsearch.com/772491.htm. I bought it in the summer of 1996. Compared to what I had been previously been driving — a car that my family affectionately referred to as “the Pink Lung” — it was beautiful. Two-door, bench seat, automatic 4-on-the-floor trans, in dark blue. It was independence, it was reputation, it was driving myself to school through my senior year.

In 1996, I knew nothing about owning or buying a car. I have no idea how many miles were on it. It was previously owned by a friend of my Mom’s, and I just sort of looked at it and agreed to buy it for $300. In retrospect, it was a pretty low-risk deal: with my job stocking shelves at the local A&P, the car would have cost me about two week’s worth of work after taxes.

That week, I drove everywhere. To my friend Jon’s house. To my friend Lindsay’s house. And, not least of all, to work to pay the thing off. It was August, and school was due to start up again soon. It was also the week my friend “Ryan”:http://flipsidejones.net/ was visiting the States from his home in London. I told him about the car and we hatched a plan to celebrate the end of the summer and my new ride. We would “drive down”:http://maps.google.com/maps?f=d&hl=en&saddr=Long+Valley,+NJ&daddr=537+Monmouth+Rd,+Jackson,+NJ&ll=40.472024,-74.597168&spn=1.055121,1.873169&om=1 to “Great Adventure”:http://www.sixflags.com/parks/greatadventure/ all by ourselves, blow a lot of money, hang out all night, and get back late. He was due to catch a flight early the next morning, but he would just catch up on his sleep on the flight. No big deal.

And somehow, at some point — and I’m not really sure how — we got the idea to invite someone else, too. Her name was Erin. She was quiet, a member of the 4H club, and she liked horses. She was also the first girl I ever dated. I don’t think I was carrying a torch, but I wasn’t unhappy when she said yes.

So we went. We climbed into the Skyhawk and meandered down the New Jersey Turnpike. I had never done so much highway driving. We got to the park, we had a great time. The best time, really — Ryan and I were euphoric with the autonomy of a new car, and Erin played deadpan to our giddiness. We stayed at the park until it closed.

Back in the parking lot, we climbed into the Skyhawk and started it up. We drove a few hundred feet. I noticed the pickup wasn’t as good as it had been. Then it stalled.

We drove around some more until I found a security guard and asked for help. He sent over the park mechanic who, after listening to the engine for 10 seconds, delivered the bad news: I’d “thrown a rod”:http://www.epinions.com/auto-review-3388-1887077-3895269F-prod4. Here we were, three seventeen-year-olds, 70 miles from home, at midnight, and our only means of transportation was completely shot. The mechanic gave us two options. We could leave the car and find another way home. Or, we could hope for the best, take the car, and destroy the engine in the process of driving back. We started driving.

That night, the car burned through two tanks of gas — most of it escaping as white vapor through the exhaust pipe — as we drove a top speed of 40 MPH on the Turnpike, hazards flashing. When I’d run out of money at the second rest stop and had to borrow $10 from Erin to cover the second tank, I knew that any chance of rekindling interest was just gone. I called my 20-something friend Jay for help and car advice with what little change I had left, and he suggested that car would never make it up the hills on the Turnpike. Take Route 1 instead, he said, so we did.

Route 1 is all poorly-timed stoplights through sketchy urban neighborhoods (terrifying for teenage suburbanites). Each time we came to a stop, the car would die. The only way to get it moving again was to restart the car with my foot on the gas, rev the engine in park, and slam the gearshift into drive, chirping the tires and progressively destroying the transmission. I flinched every time. After a few miles, and I started slowly coasting through red lights to avoid having to stop. A sign for a familiar local road loomed into view, and I took it: we drove the remainder of the trip up the winding, farm-lined Route 206.

That was 2 AM. Ryan and Erin were asleep as I coaxed the Skyhawk up and down the hills of the country road, alternately praying and cheering it on under my breath. By 3:30 AM, we’d reached the foot of “Schooley’s Mountain”:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schooley’s_Mountain, a couple of miles from home. I parked the car in the lot of a local pub and called my mom, who, bless her heart, came to pick us up and drop off my friends.

The next day, a mechanic met us at the pub. The car sat like a hollowed-out shell: the engine and transmission were both completely destroyed, and it wouldn’t even start. He offered to take it off our hands for free.

That senior year, I took the bus to school. I never went out with Erin. And for my senior formal dance, I picked up my date in the Pink Lung.

“But, she didn’t seem to mind”:http://www.flickr.com/photos/kennsarah/160499005/.

Friday was “Cars”:http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5473455, “Cars”:http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5471976, “Cars”:http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5459668, “Cars”:http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/10004076-cars/, “Cars”:http://disney.go.com/disneypictures/cars/. And, Sarah and I were pleased to discover, it’s as good as they say it is. Ka-chow!

Saturday, Sarah and I celebrated our fourth anniversary (woot!) at “Maize”:http://www.rthotel.com/maize.html at the Robert Treat Hotel in Newark. We had actually attempted to go to Maize when we weren’t living in the city, two years ago. We got as far as getting dressed up, jumping in the car, and getting on the highway, but then Sarah looked at me and said, “I’m pretty tired.” And I said, “Me, too. Let’s go to Pizza Hut.”

This time around, it was much better (and closer) than Pizza Hut. The food, ambiance and service was excellent. Our waiter — who asked for free veterinary advice, but was witty and prompt — was impressed that we “still had things to talk about” after 4 years of marriage. Here’s to more great conversation for the next 50 years.

Sunday, was, inescapably, “Portugal Day”:http://blog.newarker.info/2006/06/09/portugal-day-celebration/ in the Ironbound. The Portugal Day celebration actually extends through the week and culminates in a two-day festival two blocks from our apartment. It’s both an extravaganza of Portuguese & Brazilian culture, and an object lesson in poor life choices.

Half-a-million people funnel into our mostly-quiet neighborhood for barbeque, sangria, and Brazilian pop music. It’s not all family friendly, though, as it’s not uncommon to find someone who’s had more than his fair share of piña coladas passed out on the sidewalk. Last year, Sarah and I passed a man who was sleeping like a baby on the curb in the hot sun — we grimaced to think of what HIS hangover was going to feel like.

With Sarah’s brother in town and Ferry Street having been taken over by revelers, we didn’t even try to go to church in the city (though I’m looking forward to the “podcast”:http://www.villagechurchnyc.com/worship/sermons/). Instead, we walked up to see the endless crowds and searched for a “Pelé”:http://www.time.com/time/time100/heroes/profile/pele01.html onesie for “little E”:http://flickr.com/photos/posegate/157653688/in/pool-evanposegate/. Once you’ve seen one festival, though, “you’ve seen them all”:http://www.flickr.com/photos/kennsarah/tags/portugalday/. After Russ left, Sarah and I crashed at home so I could work on a presentation for Monday.

Spent Saturday doing mostly-web-stuff, which was mostly-fun, before going to Tom’s Birthday party in the city. It was a blast, but, when the party moved from laid-back, Zen-vibe Park to quasi-hipster Brass Monkey, Schmoo and I had a hard time keeping up. Maybe because we’re getting old, but probably because the music was so loud we had to yell at each other at the top of our lungs (at times in Scottish brogue).

Sunday at the Village Church where Sam gave a 60-minute presentation on the capital-e End times and I gave a 4-minute presentation about our “web presence”:http://villagechurchnyc.com/. Got some feedback and an offer of some help from “Josh Clayton”:http://typefield.com/ to post some photography on the site. I can’t wait to kick around some ideas with him.

Napped for a few hours, which subsequently means I haven’t been able to sleep yet, so, of course, it’s time for a site redesign. ;-) “Fickle”:http://kennsarah.net/2005/12/22/facelift/, I know, but while discussing our site design with Tom on Saturday — okay, after wildly gesturing and lip-reading over the booming techno — he reminded me of our initial design before the conversion to WordPress. It looked “something like this”:http://kennsarah.net/archives1/2005/01/09/would_you_buy_a_500_mac/index.php but featured a big, fun photo at the top of the page that I periodically updated. Tom and I agreed that the idea was still good, so the gears began to turn.

During my geek-out session on Saturday, I discovered the “plaintxtBlog”:http://www.plaintxt.org/themes/plaintxtblog/, a clever minimalist theme with a penchant for typography. After installing and playing with it, I was sold: I took the new theme and did some hacking to pull in the latest photo from Flickr from our account tagged with the word “featured”:http://www.flickr.com/photos/kennsarah/tags/featured/. All I have to do to update the photo is upload it to Flickr and tag it and it’s automatically resized and shows up on the site — which feels really maintainable.

There are some things I miss about the other design, and I’m not totally happy with everything with the new design, but I think this design has got some potential. What do you think?

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