A spy. He was a spy. How could she have missed that? Had he mentioned it and she'd just forgotten that little piece of information? How was that possible? If he was a Russian spy... what did that make her?
The police sirens were all around her now. She thought she was just being paranoid after her first two subways trains had been swarming with police. She'd gotten off and chosen others. He'd told her to meet him at 7:00 on their normal street corner.
How had she gotten here in the first place? She was in love with not only a Russian spy but a married Russian spy. So many compromises she'd made in the moment when they hadn't seemed to matter now came rushing to the forefront of her mind.
It seemed like every corner she turned now had at least one police officer waiting. Why were they there? Did they know what she was carrying? Were they looking for her and her Russian spy?
When he had first started calling her Trixie she had thought it a cute pet name. When the instructions in the manilla envelope were addressed to Trixie she finally started putting the pieces together. She was a Russian spy... and an American working for the Criminal Justice Department. Again she wondered how she had arrived at such a place. How did she get tangled in all of this? A year ago such a fantastic scenario would only have had a place in the movie cinemas on in one of her books from the library and yet now she was the one carrying the manilla folder with documents in it and she was the one dodging police every chance she could.
Finally. He saw her out of the corner of his eye. What had taken her so long? Two policemen were crossing the street looking like they had a purpose. Play it cool. Trixie was here and she had the folder. And besides cops always look like they have a purpose when they know nothing. After all Trixie had been passing him information for almost a year now and no one suspected in the least.
When he'd first been asked to get to know her he hadn't expected her to fall in love with him and for him to have feelings in return. It had made it that much harder to rope her into all of this. That was his job so that was what was done.
As she approached he could see the panic and the fear coursing through her body. She wasn't the spy type- which is exactly what made her the perfect spy.
He was relieved to know that this was the last thing they would ask from her. After tonight she could decide what she wanted to do-she could call the shots for once.
Was it just him or did there seem to be more police on this corner than normal? Strange. There must be a drug bust going on somewhere down the street.
He turned and reached his arm out to her...
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
If I Should Have A Daughter
">
I love this.
On a Bus Adventure
I had a friend once.
He opened my eyes to a world I'd never seen
or felt or experienced before.
To a world of words that were saved
for rainy days and sunny days-
Words that could change the moment you were in
and create an entirely different moment in an instant.
He showed me that for every season
there is a poem-
That for every memory there are lines
that can be recited from memory which
solidify and enhance that memory.
He showed me that if you didn't know the way back home,
there was a poem that could take you there.
I remember one day on a bus adventure,
he recited poetry the whole way to and the whole way from.
And those poems stuck with me.
So did his world.
Goodnight, dear void.
I love this.
On a Bus Adventure
I had a friend once.
He opened my eyes to a world I'd never seen
or felt or experienced before.
To a world of words that were saved
for rainy days and sunny days-
Words that could change the moment you were in
and create an entirely different moment in an instant.
He showed me that for every season
there is a poem-
That for every memory there are lines
that can be recited from memory which
solidify and enhance that memory.
He showed me that if you didn't know the way back home,
there was a poem that could take you there.
I remember one day on a bus adventure,
he recited poetry the whole way to and the whole way from.
And those poems stuck with me.
So did his world.
Goodnight, dear void.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Let the Blogger inside you out!
Woof!
It has been entirely too long since I invested some loving in the void space that is my blog.
I just found some posts I printed out for one of my missionaries from back in August and was sad that I have neglected sharing my thoughts as of late. I have been so caught up in my own life and in feeling sorry for myself that I have committed a grievous sin-blog neglect.
My dear friend, Sarah, once warned me of this sin and admonished me never commit such a crime by losing sight of my blogging duties. I'm sorry to say that I have not heeded her advice and in doing so have let my thoughts go to the wayside and my soul to go unexpressed. What a waste!
I am here to rectify this situation and to repent!!
I moved into my parent's summer condo this past fall and just barely got around to decorating my room yesterday - a bit pathetic to have let it go so long but hey a much need up-do is a much needed up-do no matter how long it's been needed...
As I began making a giant collage on my wall I noticed myself dividing my life into several pieces and clumping memories from those pieces together to form definitive phases or sections in my life.
For instance, there was a section for Illinois and memories and people from that time in my life, a section for Hong Kong, a section for the Corner House and associated years, and a section for my boys and different walls for my family and Jenni.
My boys are in the middle taking up a large portion of space. They are a giant part of my life as I write to at least one of them (if not more or all of them) once a week and have written them fairly consistently for almost 2 years now. Hong Kong to their left and Illinois to their right. Which leaves the far right for the Corner House.
On an entirely different wall (next to my bed) is the space for my family and the wall across from my bed for Jenni.
As I thought about it I wondered what Freud would say. Laughing at this thought and chucking at the overlap between my personal and academic lives these days I realized that the collage I had made absentmindedly was actually an almost perfect representation of me. I seldom enjoy when my lives overlap or mix. For the most part I enjoy their separateness-me being the only link between them all.
However, as in real life, there are a few overlaps which strangely enough are represented in the collage.
All of my boys are from Hong Kong (represented by their space following the space for Hong Kong) except one - Jordan Johnson who is from my Illinois life which flows and overlaps slightly with my boys' section.
Jenni existed in the Corner House from time to time and consequently has a few pieces in that section. Along with Kaylee who was there for a year with me as well. That section is almost entirely separate from anything else. Hardly touching Illinois if it touches at all. True enough in reality as the Corner House world has no significant overlap into other parts of my life- people sometimes overlapped into it but not the other way around.
Jenni and my family are the most important parts of my life at this moment and clearly show themselves to be so as they demanded in my subconscious to have their own walls-allowing them to overlap somewhat in the overall collage but also allowing for the space they truly hold in my life.
It will be interesting to see how this collage continues to grow and take shape. I wonder if it will continue to show the inner workings of me and my life in a practical manner.
If not, it was at least an interesting exercise in Freudian theory.
Goodnight, dear void.
It has been entirely too long since I invested some loving in the void space that is my blog.
I just found some posts I printed out for one of my missionaries from back in August and was sad that I have neglected sharing my thoughts as of late. I have been so caught up in my own life and in feeling sorry for myself that I have committed a grievous sin-blog neglect.
My dear friend, Sarah, once warned me of this sin and admonished me never commit such a crime by losing sight of my blogging duties. I'm sorry to say that I have not heeded her advice and in doing so have let my thoughts go to the wayside and my soul to go unexpressed. What a waste!
I am here to rectify this situation and to repent!!
I moved into my parent's summer condo this past fall and just barely got around to decorating my room yesterday - a bit pathetic to have let it go so long but hey a much need up-do is a much needed up-do no matter how long it's been needed...
As I began making a giant collage on my wall I noticed myself dividing my life into several pieces and clumping memories from those pieces together to form definitive phases or sections in my life.
For instance, there was a section for Illinois and memories and people from that time in my life, a section for Hong Kong, a section for the Corner House and associated years, and a section for my boys and different walls for my family and Jenni.
My boys are in the middle taking up a large portion of space. They are a giant part of my life as I write to at least one of them (if not more or all of them) once a week and have written them fairly consistently for almost 2 years now. Hong Kong to their left and Illinois to their right. Which leaves the far right for the Corner House.
On an entirely different wall (next to my bed) is the space for my family and the wall across from my bed for Jenni.
As I thought about it I wondered what Freud would say. Laughing at this thought and chucking at the overlap between my personal and academic lives these days I realized that the collage I had made absentmindedly was actually an almost perfect representation of me. I seldom enjoy when my lives overlap or mix. For the most part I enjoy their separateness-me being the only link between them all.
However, as in real life, there are a few overlaps which strangely enough are represented in the collage.
All of my boys are from Hong Kong (represented by their space following the space for Hong Kong) except one - Jordan Johnson who is from my Illinois life which flows and overlaps slightly with my boys' section.
Jenni existed in the Corner House from time to time and consequently has a few pieces in that section. Along with Kaylee who was there for a year with me as well. That section is almost entirely separate from anything else. Hardly touching Illinois if it touches at all. True enough in reality as the Corner House world has no significant overlap into other parts of my life- people sometimes overlapped into it but not the other way around.
Jenni and my family are the most important parts of my life at this moment and clearly show themselves to be so as they demanded in my subconscious to have their own walls-allowing them to overlap somewhat in the overall collage but also allowing for the space they truly hold in my life.
It will be interesting to see how this collage continues to grow and take shape. I wonder if it will continue to show the inner workings of me and my life in a practical manner.
If not, it was at least an interesting exercise in Freudian theory.
Goodnight, dear void.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Seasons of Love
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes,
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Moments so dear.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights
In cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.
In five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure
A year in the life?
Seasons of love.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes!
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Journeys to plan.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure the life
Of a woman or a man?
In truths that she learned,
Or in times that he cried.
In bridges he burned,
Or the way that she died.
It's time now to sing out,
Tho' the story never ends
Let's celebrate
Remember a year in the life of a friend.
It's that time of year again to think about the year gone by and to report on the adventures takes and experiences had.
This year there was much less anxiety about getting older-although the anxiety is ever present in one form or another-mostly because this year felt like an eternity. So much has happened in the last 365 days that it felt time to move on to bigger and better 21 things. This whole month it has very much been a Lion King "it's time" atmosphere. Life is always about moving on. There is a beautiful song called Move On written by Stephen Sondhiem for Sunday in the Park with George which expresses this sentiment in exactness. If you don't move on, what do you have? Life is empty without growth and development.
I feel like I've learned a lot this year about life-about me. Life isn't always a walk in the park. Sometimes it's hard and there are many times you feel like giving up and throwing in the towel. But then where would you be? It's the hard times that make the easy times easy. If it was all cake there would be no one to eat the brownies or the ice cream? We need a well-balanced diet of chaos and peace-of happiness and sorrow.
Enough chatter, here's what you all came for.... the crazies...
21 before 21
1. Snuck cake into the theater and frosted it during the previews
2. Visited Starbucks headquarters
3. Climbed the bluff by the Larsen residence
4. Went shopping at Pike Place Market
5. Bleached my hair
6. Had my "energy" (palm) read
7. Shattered my rear view mirror on Mexico's garbage can
8. French prayers
9. Owed the IRS
10. Took Latin
11. Climbed Dixie Rock and ripped my pants
12. Read a trashy dollar store novel - Lust's Betrayal
13. Had my car booted twice in one week
14. Obtained red Wrap-around Toms boots
15. Bought a fun flask
16. Went skeet shooting
17. Beat Angry Birds
18. Built a snowman in St. George
19. Ate kiwi with the skin on
20. Dyed my hair "black"
21. Ate pizza with M&Ms (sick)
Along with so many more fun and exciting things accomplished and shared this past year.
I did a bang up job being 20 and feel fully ready to tackle being 21.
Words of new found wisdom:
Life is short.
Make each day worthwhile in whatever way possible.
Have fun now.
Laugh while you work.
Love with all your heart.
Tell people what they mean to you.
Make family a priority.
Goodnight, dear void.
Six hundred minutes,
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Moments so dear.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights
In cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.
In five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure
A year in the life?
Seasons of love.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes!
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Journeys to plan.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure the life
Of a woman or a man?
In truths that she learned,
Or in times that he cried.
In bridges he burned,
Or the way that she died.
It's time now to sing out,
Tho' the story never ends
Let's celebrate
Remember a year in the life of a friend.
It's that time of year again to think about the year gone by and to report on the adventures takes and experiences had.
This year there was much less anxiety about getting older-although the anxiety is ever present in one form or another-mostly because this year felt like an eternity. So much has happened in the last 365 days that it felt time to move on to bigger and better 21 things. This whole month it has very much been a Lion King "it's time" atmosphere. Life is always about moving on. There is a beautiful song called Move On written by Stephen Sondhiem for Sunday in the Park with George which expresses this sentiment in exactness. If you don't move on, what do you have? Life is empty without growth and development.
I feel like I've learned a lot this year about life-about me. Life isn't always a walk in the park. Sometimes it's hard and there are many times you feel like giving up and throwing in the towel. But then where would you be? It's the hard times that make the easy times easy. If it was all cake there would be no one to eat the brownies or the ice cream? We need a well-balanced diet of chaos and peace-of happiness and sorrow.
Enough chatter, here's what you all came for.... the crazies...
21 before 21
1. Snuck cake into the theater and frosted it during the previews
2. Visited Starbucks headquarters
3. Climbed the bluff by the Larsen residence
4. Went shopping at Pike Place Market
5. Bleached my hair
6. Had my "energy" (palm) read
7. Shattered my rear view mirror on Mexico's garbage can
8. French prayers
9. Owed the IRS
10. Took Latin
11. Climbed Dixie Rock and ripped my pants
12. Read a trashy dollar store novel - Lust's Betrayal
13. Had my car booted twice in one week
14. Obtained red Wrap-around Toms boots
15. Bought a fun flask
16. Went skeet shooting
17. Beat Angry Birds
18. Built a snowman in St. George
19. Ate kiwi with the skin on
20. Dyed my hair "black"
21. Ate pizza with M&Ms (sick)
Along with so many more fun and exciting things accomplished and shared this past year.
I did a bang up job being 20 and feel fully ready to tackle being 21.
Words of new found wisdom:
Life is short.
Make each day worthwhile in whatever way possible.
Have fun now.
Laugh while you work.
Love with all your heart.
Tell people what they mean to you.
Make family a priority.
Goodnight, dear void.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
A Jitterstory
Once upon a time, a long time ago, in a place called Jitterland, there journeyed a young girl with changing hair and sparkling blue eyes. She discovered the Jitterways and learned the Jitterwalk and the Jittertalk. She loved Jitterland. As with any land there were times of peace and times of... not so much peace.
But more than the Jitterwalk and talk were the Jitterbuggers. They represented all that was good in Jitterland and made the girl feel welcome and safe. The girl spent many days with them laughing, swapping Jitterstories and communicating telepathically with the Jitterelders who called frequently to check up on the Jitterbuggers to acertain their Jitterworthiness. Without Jitterworthiness, a Jitterbugger could not pass from existence into the cubiclevoid where the Jitterelders dwell which was the ultimate form of life; it was a place every Jitterbugger wished to arrive one day. At times there were harsh words spoken from the Jitterelders but all in the name of Jitterbetterment, to be sure.
This telepathic communication tested the Jitterbuggers and placed them through simulations to weed out the weak from the strong. There were numerical tests, comprehension tests, navigation tests, and most difficult of all - Jitterlanguage tests. The Jitterlanguage twisted and turned and at times tested the Jitterbuggers to the edge of their mental copacity. Certian dialects slurred words together making them near impossible to differenciate. It was quite the undertaking for the girl when she began her lessons. She thought she would never be able to understand some of the Jitterelders. As she struggled and practiced and tuned her ears in, she found that she understood more and more each day. Soon she even began to speak the very basic forms of Jitterlanguage.
The more she understood the more she wanted to understand and yet something just didn't seem right. She kept up with her lessons and tried not to think about the feeling in her gut that something was about to change. She walked around Jitterland running into all the Jitterbuggers she'd grown to love during her time in Jitterland but something just didn't fit. She was happy wasn't she? Then why did she still have that feeling in her gut.
One day the Jitterbuggers surprised the girl by putting her photograph up in town square and giving her a balloon car to drive. She was so happy she had stumbled into this land and for all that she had learned and seen there.
One morning the girl woke up and saw in her mind's eye that she was standing at a crossroads. The choice was hers: she could keep on her current course - remaining in Jitterland - or to take road to the left - a road that led away from Jitterland into a distance unforseen future.
She knew what she must do.
Leave Jitterland? But why? For what? What was there out there in the great Beyond? Would there be something better than Jitterland? Her photograph was in town square, she had just started mastering Jitterlanguage... and yet... she knew. There was something more out there for her. Jitterland had given her many wonderful things she could use to ward off the faces of evil while she was away. And the Jitterbuggers...they would be alright. Even as the girl was making preparations for her departure there was talk of change. Maybe they would even change the name of their land - CallGreatLand was creeping in more and more.
The girl wondered if she should tell anyone of her departure. There were many Jitterbuggers she had not seen for many phases of the moon and even more she had only known for a few days; she wondered if they would want to know of her quest.
A Jitterblurb she decided to leave. Those who wished to read it could and those who wished she'd have left sooner were free to rejoice. It is recorded here for any to read who may desire to do so:
A Jitterblurb
Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
Just because I'm leaving
Doesn't mean I don't love you.
One Art
Elizabeth Bishop
The are of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of loosing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next to last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
The girl wrote her blurb and left it on the table near town square the night before her expected migration. She crossed her fingers as she drifted off to sleep. She hoped the best for her friends, the Jitterbuggers, and couldn't help but hope the best for the left-bound road ahead.
But more than the Jitterwalk and talk were the Jitterbuggers. They represented all that was good in Jitterland and made the girl feel welcome and safe. The girl spent many days with them laughing, swapping Jitterstories and communicating telepathically with the Jitterelders who called frequently to check up on the Jitterbuggers to acertain their Jitterworthiness. Without Jitterworthiness, a Jitterbugger could not pass from existence into the cubiclevoid where the Jitterelders dwell which was the ultimate form of life; it was a place every Jitterbugger wished to arrive one day. At times there were harsh words spoken from the Jitterelders but all in the name of Jitterbetterment, to be sure.
This telepathic communication tested the Jitterbuggers and placed them through simulations to weed out the weak from the strong. There were numerical tests, comprehension tests, navigation tests, and most difficult of all - Jitterlanguage tests. The Jitterlanguage twisted and turned and at times tested the Jitterbuggers to the edge of their mental copacity. Certian dialects slurred words together making them near impossible to differenciate. It was quite the undertaking for the girl when she began her lessons. She thought she would never be able to understand some of the Jitterelders. As she struggled and practiced and tuned her ears in, she found that she understood more and more each day. Soon she even began to speak the very basic forms of Jitterlanguage.
The more she understood the more she wanted to understand and yet something just didn't seem right. She kept up with her lessons and tried not to think about the feeling in her gut that something was about to change. She walked around Jitterland running into all the Jitterbuggers she'd grown to love during her time in Jitterland but something just didn't fit. She was happy wasn't she? Then why did she still have that feeling in her gut.
One day the Jitterbuggers surprised the girl by putting her photograph up in town square and giving her a balloon car to drive. She was so happy she had stumbled into this land and for all that she had learned and seen there.
One morning the girl woke up and saw in her mind's eye that she was standing at a crossroads. The choice was hers: she could keep on her current course - remaining in Jitterland - or to take road to the left - a road that led away from Jitterland into a distance unforseen future.
She knew what she must do.
Leave Jitterland? But why? For what? What was there out there in the great Beyond? Would there be something better than Jitterland? Her photograph was in town square, she had just started mastering Jitterlanguage... and yet... she knew. There was something more out there for her. Jitterland had given her many wonderful things she could use to ward off the faces of evil while she was away. And the Jitterbuggers...they would be alright. Even as the girl was making preparations for her departure there was talk of change. Maybe they would even change the name of their land - CallGreatLand was creeping in more and more.
The girl wondered if she should tell anyone of her departure. There were many Jitterbuggers she had not seen for many phases of the moon and even more she had only known for a few days; she wondered if they would want to know of her quest.
A Jitterblurb she decided to leave. Those who wished to read it could and those who wished she'd have left sooner were free to rejoice. It is recorded here for any to read who may desire to do so:
A Jitterblurb
Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
Just because I'm leaving
Doesn't mean I don't love you.
One Art
Elizabeth Bishop
The are of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of loosing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next to last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
The girl wrote her blurb and left it on the table near town square the night before her expected migration. She crossed her fingers as she drifted off to sleep. She hoped the best for her friends, the Jitterbuggers, and couldn't help but hope the best for the left-bound road ahead.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
A Break in the Equilibrium
I finally feel like things are getting back to normal. What a relief. After the accident – some people refer to it as an accident, some as an incident... I prefer not to refer to it as anything at all – it felt like things would never settle down and that I was doomed to walking on egg shells for the rest of my existence. Thankfully though it's settling and hopeful one day it really will be nothing.
All this time walking on egg shells had made me think though. What does it mean for life to “get back to normal”? And is that really what I mean that I want? In your life should you ever want for things to be “normal”... what ever normal is...?
Do you ever wonder if you're becoming complacent in your life? Why do we always want things to be comfortable and easy... normal? Would it not be better to be a little uncomfortable at times to promote growth and development. Is it wrong to not search for an equilibrium in life but rather to search for the next break in the equilibrium?
_____________________________________________________________________________________
What do you say to people when they prefer not to be talked to. When all you want is to be in their life, yet them seem not to care if you're there or not. What do you say? It would be nice to believe that in their silence they really do want you to talk to them but what if they don't. What if you want so badly to be in someone's life but they truly don't want you there? You just give up and walk away? But why wouldn't they want you there?
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Just to say hey.
You're not there.
You say nothing to me.
So I thought I would write
Just to say hey.
You may respond
You may not.
But at least I know
I did my part.
Dial tone
Ring ring
Ring ring
Ring ring
Ring ring
Beeeeeep
Voice mail
Recording
Click
Shut
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Goodnight, dear void.
All this time walking on egg shells had made me think though. What does it mean for life to “get back to normal”? And is that really what I mean that I want? In your life should you ever want for things to be “normal”... what ever normal is...?
Do you ever wonder if you're becoming complacent in your life? Why do we always want things to be comfortable and easy... normal? Would it not be better to be a little uncomfortable at times to promote growth and development. Is it wrong to not search for an equilibrium in life but rather to search for the next break in the equilibrium?
_____________________________________________________________________________________
What do you say to people when they prefer not to be talked to. When all you want is to be in their life, yet them seem not to care if you're there or not. What do you say? It would be nice to believe that in their silence they really do want you to talk to them but what if they don't. What if you want so badly to be in someone's life but they truly don't want you there? You just give up and walk away? But why wouldn't they want you there?
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Just to say hey.
You're not there.
You say nothing to me.
So I thought I would write
Just to say hey.
You may respond
You may not.
But at least I know
I did my part.
Dial tone
Ring ring
Ring ring
Ring ring
Ring ring
Beeeeeep
Voice mail
Recording
Click
Shut
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Goodnight, dear void.
Pick up the Phone
Dial tone
8 0 1
8 5 1
0 1 1 3
Ring ring
Ring ring
Ring ring
Ring ring
Beeeeeep
Voice mail
Recording
Click shut
8 0 1
8 5 1
0 1 1 3
Ring ring
Ring ring
Ring ring
Ring ring
Beeeeeep
Voice mail
Recording
Click shut
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