There aren’t many people in this modern age I can point to and say, “That kid has gumption.”
There aren’t many people who think outside the box.
When everyone else is saying “Just take the easy way out,” there’s one man who pipes up and says, “Hey! There’s another way. Just follow my lead!”
When I enter in an address, google maps gives me the low down of how long it will take and all the steps involved for taking a car or public transportation. This is the easy way. The basic way to travel.
And then there’s this guy.
No matter the distance, that guys grabs his hiking stick, throws on a backpack, and is ready to go. It doesn’t matter if the hike will take 2 hours or 7 days, he is always there to present the bold and sassy option to go á la pied.
I used to snort derisively at his unrealistic suggestions, but now his plucky little spirit makes me blink back tears.
Thank you, sir – for showing the way. For suggesting the impossible. For always being ready for a challenge. For your saucy indifference to hardship.
Getting a PhD has had some interesting social ramifications. Some fab, some.. drab. #myrhymesareacrime
In many ways, getting my PhD has freed me to be much less guarded in what and how I communicate – especially to snobbish strangers. When I was majoring in psychology in undergrad, it was way more likely that I would be dismissed as another vapid college student who thought that her Psyc 101 course qualified her to give sage mental health advice to friends and family. So, I tended to be the quiet one who would wait until I had a read on people before I participated in whatever convo was going on. When I did participate, it was usually some rando sarcastic comment. People usually conveyed a sense of amazement when they found out I had some brainz. Now, I am free to make an idiot of myself by loudly saying whatever makes me lolz. I know that even if I’m being a cotton-headed ninny muggin, people will think “Well, she has her PhD, so she has to be smart…” and give me the benefit of the doubt. So that in of itself has made the last 6 years worth it 😉
Don’t be fooled by this guy! He can write a book on 16th century technology but he ain’t no genius! (pixabay image)
BUT in different contexts, or at least with some people, getting my PhD has set up this expectation for me to have deep and well-developed thoughts on every aspect of the brain, anything remotely related to life-sciences, theology, politics, organic farming, and T-Swizzy’s latest attention-whoring bout of drama. People will say, “Hey, you have a PhD. What do you think?” Usually I haven’t thought about it at all, so I try to nod slowly, stare out in the distance, and say something vague, like “Well, I think both sides have merit, but I have heard some convincing criticisms of each position, too. It’s certainly a complex issue.” Then I smile winningly and change the subject.
I s’pose the point of this post is two-fold. One, although I appreciate people giving me the benefit of the doubt now, it annoys me that some of these same people would probably completely dismiss me if I had gone on to be a .. Idk, palm reader. Rando example, but my point is— it’s not really fair for people that don’t have their degree to have this undue burden to prove their intellectual worth. Just because someone is being silly at a party or dropped out of high school doesn’t mean they’re an uninformed buffoon.
Two, just because someone wrote their dissertation on the astrophysical epistemology of the Ornithorhynchus anatinus and never confuses “your” and “you’re” does not mean they have something meaningful to say about the science of climate change, or have great insight into international affairs.
KNOW WHAT I MEAN, GREEN BEAN?!
So.. yah. PhDs aren’t ignoramuses, but they’re not necessarily brilliant. They’re just people who chose to geek out on a subject for a few years. And uneducated folk may not be be brilliant, but they’re not necessarily ignoramuses. They’re just people who may not have had the opportunity or necessary masochism* to go into 20+th grades.
So.. yah yah yah — evaluate ideers for their own merit, and don’t be snobby.
— EDITORIAL NOTE —
*I mean this in the general use, DON’T BE A PERVO!
— ALSO — This post has some similar ideas to this other brilliantly written, amazing post.
My three fantassimo siblings and I used to party it up at my grandparents house every Friday night so our parents could go out and get LIT!* I remember my grandpa would often tell us as we were leaving, with his characteristic grin and eyes twinkling merrily,** “Keep ‘er between the ditches!” Which was his southern-folksy way of saying, “Drive safe!”
Someone did *not* listen to my Gpa 😥 (pixabay image)
Well my dollies and fellas, that man was onto something profound.
The older I get, the more convinced I am that *almost* all ickiness in the word is caused by people realizing they’re veering off the road, and then over-correcting so much they veer into the ditch on the other side of the road.***
Just think about it –
In the early 20th century, women had a difficult time being taken seriously in a lot of career paths. Now, stay-at-home moms are more likely to be sneered at (I wrote about this before).
Sammy realizes he’s wasting his money and becomes stingy.
Bo-Bo realizes he’s being legalistic with drinking and turns into a raging alcoholic.
Rhonda realizes she’s a little overweight and becomes anorexic.
Sally-Sue realizes she’s wearing herself thin at work and decides to binge-watch Netflix for 10 hours.
America realizes wide-leg jeans are ridiculous and starts wearing skinny jeans.
It’s everywhere, y’all!
So.. what? How to steady ourselves? How do we honor female executives and stay-at-home moms? How do we save without hoarding our resources? How do we enjoy a glass of wine without finishing off the entire bottle? How do we savor food without being gluttonous? How do we rest without being lazy? How do we wear sensibly fitted pantalons?
Well, to switch metaphors from driving to flying – my financial advisor told me a story to illustrate how to be a steady and calm investor, and I think it applies beautifully here.
[Apparently] when you’re piloting a plane, if you look at the nose of the plane you’ll realize you’re losing altitude at an alarming rate, so you pull up. Then you realize you’re gaining altitude at an alarming rate, so you pull down – and on and on you go, zig-zagging across the sky like an ignoramus. The key, he told me, was to stop looking at the nose of the plane right in front of you and to keep your gaze fixed and orient the plane to the horizon.
Selah
This dude must be doing it right! Side note: I really want to learn how to fly! (pixabay image)
Our collective and individual spazzines comes from hyper-focusing on the immediate problems that are right in front of us – that are subject to change and we have some measure of control over. But to keep ourselves flying straight, and to not be over reactive, we need something steady, beyond our immediate space, unchangeable, a true reference….
Hmmmmmmm
…And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.
– Hebrews 12:1-2
Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us be thankful, and so worship God acceptably with reverence and awe
– Hebrews 12:28
Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.”
– John 14:6
Yowza! The moral of the story: you never know what depth of riches lurks in the folksy wisdom of your elders!
Keep ‘er between the ditches!
— EDITORIAL NOTES —
*Lost in Time
**No, my gpa wasn’t Santa Clause.. the world should be so lucky!!
***At risk of being pedantic — but seemingly necessary in light of some gross misunderstandings of some of my recent fb posts — let me Claireify …. THIS IS A METAPHOR
In generations past, people were told to stop taking themselves so seriously. I think we millennials have taken the idea so seriously to not take ourselves seriously that we have driven ourselves into the other ditch – we see ourselves as jokes, and want to make sure everyone else does, too.
Okay okay, I lolzed at this. But also—- go apply for a job you lazy millenial!!
I think a lot of it may do with the kind of overwhelming crappiness of our times and growing connectivity with the rest of the world – we see ourselves as tiny little specs of dust in this huge dust storm of humanity that’s being driven by uncontrollable winds of huge corporations, insane political figures, and fidget spinners. So, we retreat, make memes, and giggle our way through every situation.
I’m kinda writing this about my not-so-distant-past self. I got pretty caught up in the “FML” culture of PhD students – a kind of ironic learned helplessness. There’s something pride-zapping about making poverty-line wages and having your research projects fall way short of your expectations that can drive even the most Pollyanna of us all into self-deprecating pessimism.
And look, I’m all for a good lolz. But they can be taken too far. Sometimes you need to take yourself seriously enough to take a shower, put on some nice clothes, and actually try, ya know?
I say all this coming out of a successful post-doc interview. I was gratified by how much they.. respected.. yes, respected!! me and my dissertation work! The whole experience made me realize that I use sarcastic, self-deprecating humor as a shield against expectations. I didn’t want to disappoint people, so I made sure they kept their expectations low so I wouldn’t have to deal with their disappointment or be assigned more responsibility. #realtalk
But yeah.. this past week has opened my eyes to my own value in my field. It’s scurry, but I actually have the potential to bring some good to the world through my research. Eeks!
So, I know most of you aren’t in PhD world, but I think this could apply in a lot of situations. Being a mom, for instance, is huge. I’m sure getting spit-up on and getting into intense arguments with 4 yr olds isn’t always validating, but you have this unbelievable influence in how a real life human being sees the world! That’s really not small. For realz.
(This is getting a little ramble-y, but I blame it on the ferocious winds of Irma whirling my brain to and fro’. #science)
My point is – don’t discount yourself, kid! Lolz it up, but don’t lolz yourself into a false sense of insignificance.
..Unless you just want to be insignificant, and then I guarantee you that you will succeed in that 😏
This is a simple idea, so I apologize if your mind isn’t blown to the same degree that it usually is after reading a Galloblog – but hopefully your mind is at least poofed.
Lately I’ve been falling asleep to one of my favoritest songs in the whole world – Ashley McBryde’s daddy love song, Bible and a .44. (It sounds like a crazed redneck song, but it’s actually heart-achingly sweet.) Anyway, one line of that song that jumps out to me every time I hear it is “[he’s] the kind of man it feels good to be around.”
(These sort of simple, beautiful, strangely profound lyrics are why I love country music, despite recent assaults on its dignity by Florida Georgia Line, Luke Bryan, Jason Aldean, etc.)
One reason why those lyrics strike me is that I immediately think of the men in my fam – my Dad, my Grandpa, my Grandaddy, brother, uncles, cousins.. They really do feel good to be around, and it hurts my heart sometimes just to think about it.
My grandpa. That grin! If it doesn’t make you feel good, I can’t help you.
What is this secret element that brings on these good feels? I think it’s kindness. A genuine interest in others and commitment to their well-being.. and a complete lack of self-interest. The Gallomen are confident, so they don’t need to prove themselves by obnoxiously competing with other men or by bringing down women, either overtly or covertly. ❤
But another more somber reason those lyrics strike me is how many men they *don’t* apply to.
(This isn’t a man-basher post, but just a “Ima be real” with a dash of emo.)
I have a lot of guy friends that are fun to pal around with. They can be funny. They can be charming. They can be interesting. But at the end of the day, hardly any of them – romantic or platonic alike – actually make me feel good. And some of them – after hanging out with them – I just feel… bad.
Is that their fault? Is the problem me? Who knows, and who cares. They just do.
My birthday is around the corner, which always intensifies my pensiveness and reflectivity sooooo… the action item I’m going to take away from this beautifically simple ideer is also beautifically simple: I’m going stop friending (and especially dating, amiright?) men* whom — whether or not they’re brilliant, hilarious, devastatingly handsome, Captain of the Tim Keller fan club, etc. — it feels bad to be around.** And if I may get a little dramatic … if I can’t find men who feel good to be around, better to be alone and/or surround myself with sisters from other misters and/or houseplants.
.. Oh, and I encourage you all – especially those tender young blossoms of womenfolk – to do the same *smooch*
— EDITORIAL NOTES —
*Yes, yes, women too. But the song lyric is about men, so.. just go with it.
**I’m not saying to shun people who you don’t jive with perfectly. I’m referring to people who consistently bring ickiness into your life. You don’t have to hate them, but you definitely don’t have to subject yourself to the bad feels, either.
I’m sorry to be salty about this, but you can’t stop this Na+ influx!
Long ago, before this blog was even a twinkle in my Galloeye, I remember going to a nearby water park and thinking – “why is it okay for a bunch of strangers to be running around in their skivvies just because there’s a bunch of water around?”*
This is the appropriate amount of clothing to wear to the beach. Jk. OR AM I?! (pixabay image)
Thanks to the rise of technology, a new question has puzzled my brainz. “why is it okay for a bunch of distant friends and strangers to see you in your skivvies just because a screen separates you?”
Look, I understand – if you work out a lot, you want people to cheer your progress. Many a time I’ve been gripped with an intense urgency to share my obliques on fleek. Maybe you tell yourself your ab pic isn’t to brag, it’s to inspire people. Sure… but if I were a bettin’ woman,** I’d wager that for every one person you inspire with a pic of your fantastic bod you make 10 other people feel like a shapeless blob of poo.
Are you inspired, or just mildly disturbed? (pixabay image)
Of course, there will always be the Leering Larry’s who will see your picture and not feel insecure, but feel, well eh, good. Too good… Maybe some of these Larry’s have fantastic bods themselves, and you welcome their leering. BUT, I’d wager that some of them are .. spouses, hormonal teenagers, and creepers at least a generation older than you. Ew.
Let’s just back this up a little bit, anyway. Why the hayull are we so obsessed with people knowing we have a good bod? Honestly – especially if you ascribe to Christian sexual ethics – 1 person should know and care what your beach body looks like. Your wifie or hubs. Even if you don’t ascribe to such ethics, it’s still a very small number of people who should be directly affected by the shape of your body. No one else should know or care. It ain’t their biz!
Here are some practical ways to transform your mind so you won’t be as tempted to plaster basically nekkid pic of yourself all over the interwebs. A lot of these involve vivid imagining.
1) Imagine one of your real friends who has a less-than-perfect body. Imagine stepping into their room, interrupting their relaxation time, stripping down to your skivvies, and yelling in their face – “HEY! Isn’t my body AWESOME?! AREN’T YOU INSPIRED?!” Does that seem strange to you? Because that’s basically what you’re doing, just with a screen in-between.
2) Imagine stepping into a Leering Larry’s house, and seeing a pic of yourself in your skivvies blown up into poster size and pasted on his/her ceiling. Would you be creeped out? Then don’t give them the opportunity!
Just imagine this dude can’t wait until you post another bikini / shirtless pic. (pixabay image)
3) Imagine everyone in the world knows what your body looks like, and they all think it’s dynamo. Then.. what? —- unless you’re trying to be a swimsuit model, it really doesn’t make sense for this to drastically change your life, except to have more people thinking inappopro thoughts about you. What’s your end goal,exactly?
Okay, that’s all folks. This isn’t to slut-shame anyone, btdubs. I just want to raise awareness that the small target audience you actually had in mind when you post your vacay or fitspiration pics or whatever is just a tiny proportion of who all will actually see your bod. Just think it through, ya know? Please and thank you.
As the title may suggest, I feel unqualified and almost idiotic for posting about racism in the aftermath of Charlottesville. But I also feel weird not saying anything, because silence in these cases makes it seem like I’m apathetic at best, and a closet white supremacy sympathizer at worst. So here are a few rambles I have. If you see issues with any of this, I welcome respectful dialogue. My point is not to say “I’M RIGHT!” but “This is where I’m coming from.” But I’m a life-long learner, so .. fire away.
Human lives were lost
As soon as a tragedy happens, each political side eagerly points out how the ideology and policies that the “other side” promoted caused the problem. It’s so predictable I would think it was funny, except it’s also sickening. Look, I even give myself space to grieve for a while after I put down my little research rats. Can we not do that for a human life? Would we really rather downplay or ignore the loss of a human life than accidentally express support for a political view we don’t share? Eck.
Signal-to-noise
Let me be clear – white supremacy is both terrifying and infuriating. I 100% condemn this strange neo-Nazi uprising. Now, is my experience with mainly upper-middle class and overly educated people of all races especially relevant to the racial discussion? Probabblyyyyy not. So when stuff like this happens, one of the most respectful things I can think of is to just shut up for a day or two (reduce the noise) and let other people’s voices be heard (increase the signal).
Trump is an orange herring
Did I vote for Trump? No.* Do I resent the blanket accusations toward Trump supporters? Um, yes. Many people I know and love voted for Trump – some hesitantly, some enthusiastically. And guess what? Many of them are vehemently NOT racist.** Demanding that Trump supporters bear the responsibility for each and every one of his buffooneries is asinine. Moreover, blaming Trump generally for racial conflict is asinine. Remember how everyone stopped being racist when Obama was the President? Oh yeah.. me neither. Look –Trump’s rhetoric seems to have emboldened some extremist groups to organize and “go public,” and that’s not okay. But he didn’t create racism, and he’s one orange man. Over-focusing on him and everything he tweets is a waste of your emotional energy. Even more so, funneling your frustration and hatred over racism toward Trump voters at large is counter-productive. Racial harmony is going to require the cooperation and heart-change of people of all races. Antagonizing, accusing, and insulting an entire group of people (a sizable proportion of which hated Hillary more than they loved Trump, I’d wager) is going to further alienate them when we need to bring them into the fold. As a final point – if Trump supporters, white males, or whoever are obligated to post something so that people don’t think terrible things about them, is it really meaningful?
Embracing the tension
I’m afraid that if I “scratch that itch,” by posting something about Charlottesville – it will give me a false sense of accomplishment. I will soak up the approval of my anti-racist friends, and we’ll pat each other on the back for not being “part of the problem.” And then what next? I will sip my tulsi tea and serenely read a theological book in the safe confines of my gated apartment complex. So I rather know that I’m not doing anything than feel self-satisfied at doing something that cost me nothing and actually gained me some social media cred.
What to do?
That being said, I would really ratherdo something. But what? This may shock you, but many people in PhD world – where I spend 90% of my time – are not racist,** or at least not openly so. I could be wrong, but I would guess academia is one of the friendliest environments for people of all types of racially diverse backgrounds. Academia is basically a meritocracy, sprinkled with affirmative-action type of policies. So it’s not like I have many chances to say, “Hey! That racist joke isn’t funny!” And University policies seem to be rather friendly toward people of diverse backgrounds, especially those who are traditionally underrepresented in certain fields (like STEM). So besides aggressively posting anti-racist status updates on social media – which only other anti-racists will read – what should I do? I’m not trying to absolve myself of responsibility – I’m genuinely curious.
— EDITORIAL NOTES —
*I didn’t vote for Hillary, either! But I did vote! Write in, baby!
**In this context, I mean racist as in “gee golly, wish we could go back to the good ol’ days of Jim Crow!” Everyone has nasty prejudices and snobberies and divisiveness in their own hearts, which I truly believe only Jesus can heal. But on a political level, I (maybe naively) think you can advocate for change that leads to equality and opportunity for people of all races to flourish — even before every single person’s heart is 100% pure.
A question that has kept me up night after night, tossing and turning anxiously, is “Am I basic??” So I took to the interwebs to do some high quality, unbiased research. I scoured the accounts of all my social media contacts who are indubitably basic, focusing specifically on profile pictures. I then coalesced my findings into 4 archetypical selfies that are strong predictors for basicity. KNOW THE SIGNS!
1. The Sassy Bathroom Babe
This is a timeless classic. I cannot emphasize enough how absolutely essential the duck face and peace sign are to truly make this work, although the toilet in the periphery is the most crucial element. Granted, most basic white girls are too advanced to have posted this recently. But, if you have one of these from the ~2006-2012 era, I’m sorry to say this is a proven risk-factor for being basic.
2. The Artsy Fartsy.
Basic white girls are compelled to show that they’re not just sassy, but they have a sensitive, artistic side. What to look out for here are selfies in which there is a beguiling mix of sadness and hope shining out of your eyes. No one has to know these emotions were evoked by watching Gossip Girl reruns.
3. The Bashful.
This is a tricky one, designed to distract everyone from the complete vanity of you taking a picture specifically to show the world how cute you are. If you have selfies in which you are looking away modestly, as if you weren’t expecting your arm to independently snap a picture of your face, you may be guilty of the bashful. Another sure sign is if you have pictures of you smiling wistfully at the wall.
4. The Au Natural.
Anyone can follow a youtube and contour their face to look like a slightly tackier version of Kim Kardashian, but basic white girls need their followers to know they are flawless without even a spot of make-up. ***IMPORTANT*** What to watch for here is “au natural” pics in which you have texturized, filtered, or otherwise artistically distorted your pic so that no one can really tell what’s going on with your face anyway. The experienced eye may be able to make out a roughly female profile.
Did I miss any key archetypes of basic white girl selfies? If so, please submit your examples!!!
I don’t know why so many people pretend like having a dynamo dating life is living the dream. Oh yes, it is an utter delight to either get your heart broken, break someone else’s heart, or both.
“Poppycock!” – Dr. Galloswag
But dating sucks because we moderns have made it suck. Our past few generations have an undue obsession with relationships and romance. I mean, smart, good lookin’, healthy, goodhearted, financially stable people feel legitimately bad – like, they don’t even enjoy their life – simply because they’re single. And one of the main reasons they are single is *not* because there is no one available. It’s because, with each of the 1,482 different people they met through HarmoniousBagelMatch in the past month, “we didn’t have a romantic connection,” or “our Myers-Briggs types were incompatible,” or “she had man hands.”
In the olden days, they didn’t have time to worry about this nonsense. They were fleeing angry ostriches or trying to resist eating their own toes during the winter. I doubt pre-modern women often looked over at pre-modern Jo-Jo and thought, “I don’t know, he just doesn’t make me laugh.”
Right now we’ve become way too picky because we have too many options. We now rule people out for having unseemly arm hair because— we can. There’s this itch in the back of our heads – “I can do better.”
When you have this many options, you’re bound to 1) take forever to choose 2) be certain you *could* have made a better choice, no matter what you choose (pixabay image)
But what does that mean, exactly – to “do better?” Have we really reduced personal relationships to a game of ego, where we’re all trying to outsmart the system and snag someone who is just a tad out of our league?
This is why we need to return to arranged marriages. It doesn’t have to be quite as parentally-subservient as it was in the past. Each person should construct a 4-6 person “Matrimonial Selection Committee,” between the ages of 18 and 25. Within one year of selecting the MSC, they need to present to the committee their non-negotiables (e.g. “loves Tim Keller) and perhaps a few special preferences (e.g. “uses emojis liberally”). The MSC will then take this information and undergo a 6-12 month search for a suitable mate. At the end of said search, they will present the person with their choice. The person can say yes, or be single for the rest of their life. Simple.
Look, this may seem overly cut-and-dry, but it’s really not. As Lewis Smedes and Tim Keller argue – the promising and commitment is what gives us the security and freedom to truly invest in each other and love without fear of abandonment (in TK’s The Meaning of Marriage). So I’m pretty sure that if we just made a commitment to almost anyone with the same general values (or faith, if you have one), we would flourish like a well-watered begonia.
When I was 12, I shocked my local community of braced youths by forgoing my chance to snag the most bomb guy in middle school.* We were a hot item for quite a while — meaningfully passing each other the basketball during pick-up games, boldly standing in the same 10 ft.2 area of space, making eye contact when we laughed at something… you know, the type of intimacy that makes a 12 year old girl’s heart do cartwheels.
Actual picture of me and my crush when I was 12. Huh, he wore more lipstick than I remember. (pixabay image)
BUT THEN, my well-meaning oldest sister – overwhelmed by the awkward absurdity of middle-school crushes, I suppose – went and told my crush that I “like-liked” him.
*Gasp*
*Blush*
*Die*
Instead of being relieved that my “secret” crush was revealed, I had a panic attack. Then, like a true irrational and hysterical woman, I proceeded to go out of my way to implement strategic snubbery to make sure he understood I was 100% uninterested. I all but told this dude to talk to the hand. I’m still not even sure what my goals were in this – I think I was just embarrassed, and maybe scared shoot-less that he didn’t like me as much as I liked him (?). Oh, the horror!
Shamefully, I kept elements of this self-defeating defensiveness into early adulthood.** Each relationship began this weird game of “how little can I show him I care about him?” I would hold back to see how much skin in the game the guy had before I would give even the teensiest indication that I valued him a little bit more than my faithful philodendrun. I adopted an economic strategy – try to find the best guy possible (maximize benefits) that will tolerate me putting in the least amount of effort (minimize costs). Because I won’t be no fool for anyone! Shazam!
Ack. What a fool I was, trying not to be a fool.
Man is nought but folly’s slave, From the cradle to the grave. W. H. Ireland—Modern Ship of Fools.
I’m especially convicted when I think about Jesus and his romantic pursuit of his Bride.*** Does anyone look at the cross – at a man who laid his life down for people whoring after things that lead to death – and think “Ugh, what a silly fool.” No. Anyone who fully absorbs the cross falls at his feet in worship. His kindness leads us to repentance, and then we restructure every part of our lives accordingly.
Who is the fool: Jesus, or the person who sees the cross – in all of its gory and tangible expression of love – and says, “meh”?
There seems to be a strange, paradoxical truth: The person who loves the least is the fool. Someone to be pitied for their hardness of heart and stubborn refusal to allow themselves to be fully loved. And the person who loves the most is the hero. Someone to be followed, and admired for their tenderness of heart and stubborn refusal to be selfish.
Pity the fool.
— EDITORIAL NOTES —
*The middle school of my homeschool group, whatever that is worth. Jk, he was actually pretty adorbs, even by elite public school standards. *snorts*
**This was undergrad, so I use the term “adult” loosely
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