You Have Gas...

Now is no time for games!

It’s been just over a month in the U.S.  Raquel Henley is getting situated in the U.S.—kind of.  There is no textbook for this transition, and my guess is everybody underestimates the scope of differences.  She’s Filipina; she’s quiet.  I introduce her to people, and she remains nearly silent, only speaking to respond.  This is a hybrid of the prototypical Asian woman upbringing and her lingering fear that her English will prove inferior and humiliating.

She’s smarter than I am.  She speaks three languages.  Languages are hard…and very complex.  There are a lot of things I do (we do) that are highly complex activities.  We take them for granted throughout our lives.  If you can learn to see things from an outside perspective, well, that is helpful.  You can never completely disassociate yourself from your own experience, though.

Seeing the world through Ms. Raqueline’s perspective, I’ve come to learn how different and special this place is.  At the beginning of the month, we were in Denton at a reception.  The reception offered horderves…er, hors d’ovres, ummm…appetizers.  We started with a fruit plate.  I offered her a slice of pineapple.  She demurred.  Then she pointed to the cantaloupe and said, “…and what is this?”  She liked it.  She also liked the strawberry I added to her plate.  In fact, the entire buffet consisted of foods she did not know, let alone anything she had eaten.  I’ve never considered a life without strawberries…or BBQ…or tacos.  People live like that??  She baked her first cake (ovens are uncommon).  She uses coupons, had job interviews (scary!), and started a new job today.  Everything is new, it seems.

One key change for Raq involves automobiles.  Raq rides a motorcycle back in the Philippines.  No license required.  It makes sense, when you think about it.  You go from a bicycle to a motorcycle…and then maybe a car.  The average “salary” for a Filipino is about $2500.  An automobile purchase is akin to buying a house in the U.S.

Part of car ownership is purchasing gasoline.  This is a second-nature, almost intrinsic activity for Americans.  Not so much in the Philippines.  Over there, you pull in and tell some worker how much to put into the tank (usually a litre or two for a motorcycle).  “I want you to put the gas in the car.  I’m going to grab a Diet Coke. Here’s the card.  Our ZIP code is 79564.”

OK, I knew that wouldn’t work on its own.  I was trying to force a learning experience on this poor woman.  I’m still not sure if it worked.  When I returned, she was standing near the minivan and smiling.  No gas had left the pump.  So I helped her through this simple, easy, no-brainer process like the incredible educator I am:

1.     Insert your card.  There, in that slot.  Yes.  That’s where it goes.  No, the magnetic…er, brown stripe needs to be down and to the right, like the picture.  Like this.

2.     OK…but you have to pull it back out right away.  Let’s do that again.

3.     (Repeat Steps 1 & 2)

4.     Now you put in our ZIP Code (note to self: tell her what a ZIP Code is). 7-5-9-6-4…OK now push “Enter.”  It’s over here—the green button on the bottom right.

5.     OK…now it’s processing.  While it’s doing that, you lift the pump handle.  Yes, you lift it up.  Oh!  First, you need to open the little door over here.  Then youuuu un-screww this cap, and…bring the pump here and put it into the tank.  Just bring it over, love…OK, good.  Put it there, in that small hole inside the larger hole.  [By this point, I’m feeling sheepish.]

6.     Yeah…that’s good, but you need to choose the type of gas you want.  We always get the cheapest kind…the 87…no, you just push the yellow button.  The left side.  Closest to us.  Yeah.  That one.  Wait…the hose pushed the 93 octane expensive kind.  That’s 50 cents a gallon more.  No.  Just…No.

7.     (Repeat Steps 1-2 and 4-7, taking care to keep the hose away from all yellow buttons.)

8.     Good.  Gas is going in.  Now, if you push this little lever underneath here, you don’t have to hold it the whole time you pump.  Yeah, I guess that notch works. Good job.

9.     Five gallons.  See the bottom one.  The top one is how much; the bottom one is…well, how much…gas is going in.  The top one is the cost, I guess.  OK.  Stop.  Just squeeze the pump.  No.  You squeeze it and the little lever-thing releases…er, lets go.  (Demonstrate)

10.  Now you put the pump back in the slot where it came from.  No.  Just put it back.  It has a flap that turns off the pump.  Just…yeah.  There.

11.  Now we wait for the receipt.  Oh, and we need to put the cap back on and close this little door back.  OK.  Just pull on it.  Yank on it.  Harder.  Good.

12.  We’re done! 

Easy, right?

I'm not even going to try getting gas at Kroger yet.  That's a whole other process with the discount card.  Ugh.

It’s one thing to move from, say, England to the U.S. (or Canada…or even a place like Germany).  Pumping gas is a part of life there, too.  It’s what life is like when people can afford cars.  There are places people come from that are far different.  Pretty much the only thing we have in common is that we are both from Planet Earth (and some English).

Such a brave woman to come here.  If you haven’t met her yet, just know she starts every morning rocked back on her heels and regains her balance throughout the day.  It’s fantastic to watch.  I just need to keep my ethno-centric assumptions from ruining these discoveries she’s having—not just every day, but every hour.

The Death of the Lonely Gringo?

                                          Marina Keegan

This is and will be an eventful week.

Having my eldest daughter in Nacogdoches has been quite the blessing.  Now, when I say something to myself, I'm not alone.  I prefer these problems to my prior problems!

Miss Victoria begins her second week of classes Monday.  It's not just class.  It's class, tutorials, study sessions, work, and home stuff.  Her days are long, since she works at the local Japanese restaurant.  We don't have a Wendy's, a Home Depot, or a Target...yet we have a Japanese restaurant, a Hallmark Store, and ready access to Merle Norman Cosmetics.

Tori and I reworked the back porch.  We strung lights and cleaned it up.  Having someone else in the household keeps a person more focused on household things.  You have a second set of eyes (or third, or fourth…) to notice things that need improvement.  As of today, it looks like a nice place to hang out & discuss life.  It's more than that, though.

We’re getting the house ready for an arrival.

On Saturday, Mrs. Henley picked up her visa from the courier.  Two days later, she had the Philippines stamp her visa, allowing her to emigrate.  After all, you have to emigrate before you immigrate.  

It looks as though we are almost finished and ready to make that giant move.

She just needs one…more…stamp…

So here’s the plan. I’d call it Plan B, but that letter was gone months ago.  We may have run out of letters by now.

• On September 7 at 12:40 p.m. (Manila Time) my wife will board a plane on EVA Airlines.
• She will fly to Taipei and experience a 7-hour layover.                                
• She will board a second flight, ending in Houston, Texas at 11:50 p.m. on Friday, September 7.
• She will encounter the Port of Entry with her sealed packet from the embassy.
• She will have her visa stamped and enter the United States as a legal permanent resident.
• She will find me waiting for her.

At every point in this grueling, costly process, we have encountered issues.  Some of those have been our fault; others involve rules that don’t seem to be listed anywhere.  The POE should be a formality, but those women and men work for Customs and Border Patrol.  They’re hired and trained to be suspicious.  I know that directly, from my U.S.-Mexico travels and returns.  

As our President says, "We will see what happens." We can do the things listed above (if allowed).  The rest is up to God. I’m okay with that.

--------------

This week also marks the SECOND Labor Day I do NOT have off.  

There is no Labor Day in Hell.

Remember that (alala ba).

Not Heard: "Your Visa Is Approved"

Lorenzo Quinn's Hand of God.  Find more here.

My daughter is moving in with me!  That’s right.  Miss Victoria A. Henley will be attending Stephen F. Austin StateUniversity this month.  “The Estate” will be her domicile for that new beginning.  If you wonder who she is, perhaps this post will give you perspective.  Or maybe this.  Who knows?

I’m saying this because I “met” a young woman who brought out my “dad” instincts today.  This was U.S. Embassy day in the Henley “household.”  The day we would/could/should get  approved for a CR-1 visa for Mrs. Henley.  After a rough start to the day, we jumped into the cattle call of the final frontier of the process.  It went very well…until someone compared names on documents.  Who does that??!!!!???!!!

"On the next episode of Paul Screws Up..."

In 100 attempts, I would have caught this (maybe) 3 times.  It should worry you that my job entails accreditation and assessment.  Turns out I am very capable of overlooking things.  Ms. Raqueline just returned from fixing the mistakes, and we will get the fixed one tomorrow.  Then we will upload the new document to some website or give it to a courier or fold it into a paper airplane and launch it at the Ambassador.  I don’t know, really.  I'm not sure of my skills right now.  We have a slip of paper AND an email, so who knows what’s next?

THIS IS FRUSTRATING!!!!!!!

The form in question is the “proof” that Raquel was never married.  I get it; that’s important.  HOWEVER—

• We needed this documentation just to get married.
• We needed this documentation to pass the “border patrol” portion of the process.
• We needed this documentation with the State Department before the Embassy got involved.

So…the fourth iteration of this might not be correct?  Because her PARENTS names are different in this version????

Thanks for protecting me—just like the Japanese government protected me from my own toothpaste on the way through Tokyo.  Passed the U.S. TSA…but Japan knows that the extra ounce-or-whatever will EXPLODE.

In both cases, I am soooooo grateful for government protection from myself. 

I’m not as bitter about this as I could be—or might have been, though.  In the midst of the process, I was given the gift of perspective.

I might have taken a picture of her.  She was relatively attractive (not Raquel standard, but still good-looking).  She was about the age of my oldest daughter (Victoria).  She was interviewing to get a K-1 (fiancée) visa.  I know this because the U.S. Embassy in Manila uses an intercom system to communicate: the interviewer is behind bullet-proof glass; the interviewee/victim is facing away from the seated folks waiting their turn.  Imagine going to a drive-thru bank and just standing and listening to the interview questions—then you infer her answers.  You can’t “not hear” such stimuli, and it put things in perspective for me.  Near as I can tell, the following points are true.

• She hadn’t known the guy all that long.
• She knew his basic information.
• He had come to visit, and she seemed to have pictures.
• Her fiancée didn’t have any arrests.
• He had children, but he didn’t see them.
• She had one child of her own.

After a little while of some back-and-forth, the interviewer re-phrased his questions.  So you are saying you have no knowledge of any arrests for your fiancée?  Is that it?

She nodded.  I could sense where this was going (so can you).

I must inform you that in September 2016, your fiancée was arrested for domestic violence.  Do you know what that means?  He was arrested for beating his wife.  This is in 2016, also, so it’s recent.  I need to also tell you that a court found him to be a threat to his wife and his children so that he is not allowed to see his children.  He has a restraining order against him, which means that he cannot come in contact with his wife or his children.  That’s why he doesn’t know much about his children.

Now, knowing this information, do you still want to move forward with the fiancée visa process?

Short, fast, quick nodding for about .4 seconds.

OK, so you want to move forward knowing that your fiancée has been convicted of beating his wife.  Recently.  Is that correct?

More nods…this time a little larger.

OK, I must also inform you that if you feel threatened at any point, you need to dial 911, and the police will come and protect you.  They won’t take your visa away because you called 911.  Do you understand that?

More nods…ugh.

Her visa was held up for some “unrelated” reason—one similar to ours.  I’m hoping the folks at the embassy do this to delay her decision.

I get it.  If you say “No, I don’t want to continue” then that’s it.  You’re out of options.  It seems that (even in this circumstance) the prudent thing to do is keep your options open…to see if there could be some way it could work.

…but what an awful thing to discover at that point…

I wanted to reach out, but I knew an older American wouldn’t sway her opinion or decision.  Plus, the embassy deals with this daily.  It would be like going to a police station to lecture women about domestic violence as a “Self-Appointed Expert.”  At some point, you’re just a loudmouth with an opinion.  This was past that point.

Perspective is soooo important.  I was “#blessed” to be given that perspective today, of all days.  Expectations lead to resentment.  I’m working HARD to not expect stuff.  When I do that, I am pleasantly surprised quite often…and disappointed much less.  It might still work.  Perhaps a tourist visa or something.

There could be a quick turnaround, and we could jet off to Houston to experience the unexpected world we will inhabit together.

My guess is Raq’s visa will be available about 24-48 hours after the plane to Houston takes off in Manila.  I likely will be on that plane…alone…again.  I will go back to a clean house (thanks to Miss Victoria Henley) and prepare to start the academic year.  I will look for an opportunity to bring my wife to America; I will take the first real one I get.

You Deserve an Update, Part II

(I love being on her Facebook profile pic.)

Almost exactly two years ago, I was sleeping in a pickup.  The pickup wasn't mine; it belonged to my father.  My father has Alzheimer's Disease with dementia, and he spends his days in a nursing home now.  My brother was telling me I needed to return the pickup.  My children wanted nothing to do with me, and my ex-wife was more than willing to let me know as much.

Honestly, until my physician wrote me a prescription for some much-needed medication, I was useless to the world.  An accident with a drunk driver damaged my brain...my brain...what am I without THAT??  One key malady of a good, hard concussion is depression.  Boy, howdy!  I thought I had experienced depression until this.  It's been awful, too awful to describe.  My mind finally cleared (sort of) in April 2017.  I still have issues at times (like a lonely Christmas), but I survive better now.

I was in the parking lot of some public park on Lake Georgetown.  Unemployed, poor, damaged, homeless, useless.  For some reason I still had a working phone.  I managed to keep that constant.  But there is nobody...nobody...who wanted to talk to me.  Over 7 billion people in the world, and I was very, very alone.  Typing this makes me revisit those feelings, so I need to move through this part a little quickly.

That night I thought about killing myself, which made it similar to most other nights.  I was ready, except I wasn't sure whether anybody would claim my body.  Whom would they tell?  Yikes, that's alone.  Nobody cared at all.

Then my phone dinged.  "Hello, sir."  It was this strange and beautiful woman from the Philippines.  We had been chatting off and on.  I needed it to be on that night.  She thought I was worth communication.  I found myself chatting with her for long enough to forget I didn't want to live.  At one point, I remember saying something like, "You know, if I ever get out of this mess...you've hit the jackpot here."  Although the timing of everything surprised me as much as those around me, I made a commitment to try to marry her that night.

When there is only one person in the world that wants to talk to you...you don't care why.  It doesn't matter.  That person is the most important person in the world.  That person IS your world.

As time went on, I realized what a treasure I had found.  She can speak 3 languages: she's smarter than me.  Period.  She's more beautiful in three dimensions, too!  She has an honest (sometimes patient) sense of humor.  She works very hard, and she lives on very little.  She's a strong woman; don't let the 92 pound, 4'11" frame fool you.  She has three fantastic kids...and that family!  Just one big group of open, loving people.  Immediate acceptance.  Boom!  The Philippines is my happy place, for sure.

People have wondered aloud to me:

           "I think she was just looking for a husband." (She found one.  Lucky me!)
           "Doesn't she have, like, 2 or 3 kids?" (Didn't I lose, like, 2 or 3 kids?)
           "She just wants you for the citizenship." (I don't think so, but I wouldn't care. *See above*)
           "She's gonna take everything you have!" (She's leaving everything she knows...to be with me.)

It's been a long, arduous, expensive, painful process.  Life offers no guarantees--I know that now.  Hell, I live that now.  Still, I have a plan, even if I don't control the outcome:

In three weeks, I will board a plane (killing off two airline miles accounts from a previous life).  I drive to Austin, fly to San Diego (where I will spend the night in the airport), fly to Tokyo, and fly to Manila.  Then, on August 7, 2018 we have an interview appointment at the United States Embassy in Manila.  If all goes well (no guarantees), then on August 15 we will board a plane in Manila--together.  We will fly from Manila to Taipei (Say it with me: TAIWAN!).  We have a 7 hour layover; then we arrive in the United States...specifically, in Houston.

Yep.  Leave from Austin, return to Houston.  Nothing's easy.  But watch!  It'll happen, somehow.  God-willing, it will.  Weird stuff happens now.  It's the flip-side of surrendering control (like you had any!).

And it won't be easy after August 15, either.  I've learned that there is no "easy" in life: you trade one set of problems (joys) for another set of problems (joys).  It's possible that even more people will live in this little crackerbox house in the fall.  Who knows?  God, not Paul.  I'm finally cool with that.

Grateful to Be Broke

This 2-pound box for sale at Harry & David

It’s coming up on cherry season.  There will be cherries in the Kroger for about a month and a half.  During this period of time, there will be 1-3 weeks when Rainier cherries are available.  They’re those weird-looking yellow ones.  To me, they are like the pearls in oysters: oysters are great, but pearls are fantastic.  Maybe that’s not the right analogy; think of Rainier cherries as that little mini-segment in every navel orange.

A thread by @ErynnBrook got retweeted onto my feed and got my attention.  It was a beautiful thread with a lot of accurate information on the difference between being poor and being “broke.”  

You can see the level of reaction (Retweets/Likes).  Among other things, the whole thread was translated into Arabic.  Amazing what can happen these days.

In reality, only people who have been truly poor can make the distinction fully.  There were a couple of outliers, but there is one place that most everyone seems to remember when they first realized they weren’t poor anymore: the grocery store.

Oddly, that was the place where I realized how poor I really was.

At my rock bottom, I was in a grocery store.  It was Rainier cherry season/week.  My mouth actually watered thinking about how good they would…or could taste.  I needed other food, though.  That "ate up" the cash I had on hand.  I was unsure where the next funding would come from.  This was really it.

Somehow, this seemed important to me: I should at least taste what things used to be like.  If I remember correctly, I had 78 cents left. (I probably don't remember that amount correctly.) Weighing carefully, I determined that I had enough money for seven (7) cherries.  That was a long walk from the checkout to my dad’s 1990 Silverado, my only transportation and occasional housing.  It was my biggest fear realized: I was done—but not dead.  This is poor.  Confusion.  Hopelessness.  Survival.  Non-survival.  You have no idea how you will eat in 3 days, no idea if you have a place to sleep tonight with a roof, no idea how you get out of this situation, no idea if it will ever happen…

…no idea if it should happen.

One thing that got me through was a story told by the Buddha.  A guy is about to die, but he takes time to enjoy a strawberry first.  Thus, I should only focus on this moment.  Fear of the future was futile; I stood as living proof of that.  Predicting your demise doesn’t make you survive.  It just makes everything before your demise worse.  For that one moment, I had enough food for 3 days and seven cherries.  Those were the best-tasting cherries I had ever eaten.  Those will remain the best-tasting cherries I ever have.
----------------------
(Gotta Fast Forward—I can’t watch this next part right now.)
----------------------
In October of 2016, I received my first paycheck.  When I went to the Kroger store, I realized that I could make decisions based on what I want to eat this week, not what I can afford.  There were logical limits of course.  (Nobody’s buying BEEF or anything—I’m not stupid!)  But it felt much different.  I knew about how much the total would be, but not the actual total.  I didn’t realize it at the time, but I remember that feeling—the feeling of being broke.  That sense of relief, even if you don't trust it just yet.

Things would become more “broke” in the next few weeks.  I went to the doctor in November, and I had health insurance.  I bought a modest gift for someone else.  I scraped together enough for a plane ticket, too.  From the outside, it looked like a normal lifestyle.

The fact is, I don’t know what “normal” is, anymore.  But that Twitter feed certainly gave me pause to open my mind to the good things that I have…and even some good things that I had during the hardest times.

Like seven fantastic cherries.

(...)

I cried when I wrote this song

Sue me if I play too long

This brother is free

I'll be what I want to be

--Steely Dan

The Immigration Lie

The Chain Migration "Threat"

Last week, the State of the Union interrupted sitcoms.  I find myself smack in the middle of the issues these days.  One facet of my life involves immigration.  Deeply.  People, including Ms. Raqueline.  One stateside Filipina tells my wife that I need to articulate my plans for her, as nothing is happening...and things should have happened now.

So she asked me, and I responded.  She saw how I had already thought of specific things and how we might move forward when she finally arrives. That seemed to work for her.  I can't really explain why it takes so long to myself, let alone others.

Fortunately, things change quickly around here.  We got an important piece of good news last weekend.  In about 24 hours, things turned from a challenge to my efforts to just a little bit of apprehension for her.  This is going to happen.

VisaJourney is a site for gringos like me, trying to bring the love of their life to the U.S.  It's important for a couple of reasons.  First, it's the best source of information on immigration.  Unfortunately, the rules and regulations are complex, confusing, and confounding.  The explanations found on the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services website are useless, as well.  

Second, it tells me I'm not alone.

One phenomenon of this situation is the number of those who do not connect the immigration rhetoric to my situation.  So many people think that these decisions only affect MS-13 members and ISIS recruits.  

Not the case.  Everybody has to pay for this anti-immigrant frenzy, even a 4'11"-92-pound-Filipina-Roman-Catholic-mother-of-three.  Here's a thumbnail sketch of a timeline.  We're juuuust clearing the green after 13 months of marriage.

But they can come here and stay while they're waiting, right? Theoretically, this is true. to make this happen, Congress built a workaround for just this situation--the K4 visa:

• You file that 130 form.
• You file a 129 form, pretending she’s your “fiance.”
• Once the 129 is approved, you slog through the K3 visa process.
• You attach the kids as “derivatives” to your fiance’s/wife’s visa.
• You pay $1140/ea. to adjust their status...but you won't need to do that.
• You never get the K3 visa.
• You never get the K4 visa.

Here is one immigration site that said it well:

In fiscal year 2016, the U.S. Department of State issued only 102 K3 visas as compared to 133,465 immigrant (IR1/CR1) visas for the spouses of U.S. citizens.

You may apply for the K3 visa, but you should also understand the likelihood of receiving one. It’s extraordinarily low. For the purposes of planning your move, it’s often easier to rely a more predicable [sic] process – the immigrant visa.

In total, the fees, travel, and assistance come to about $3,000, and it takes 10 months to get past Step One.  VJ predicts another 182 days...after the 3 weeks or so it takes the National Visa Center to acknowledge we passed the And that's just my wife. There are three wonderful children, too.  They all cost just as much and take just as long...or longer. As one poster on VisaJourney put it to someone else:

You would need to initiate the process for your stepchildren just like you did for your husband. If your husband and you are already married and the children are under 21, they would fall under IR-2 category. I would suggest you begin the process sooner than later, as wait times for approvals and interview dates are becoming longer and longer.

Time to arrival has doubled.  USCIS is fee-funded, not taxpayer funded.  The delay...isn't financial.  USCIS is less than encouraging regarding the kids. Filipinos aren't popular immigrants in this system:



Some people are frustrated by illegal immigrants; it’s not like we make it easy to come here legally. Worse, the current talk focuses on cutting immigration--specifically "chain migration"--in half. So...FOUR years to get the kids here?  It frustrates me to think about it.  People are lying about this.  I know it for a fact; I'm living with the consequences.

So let me just put this little certificate here.  I’ll make it a point to come back here every once in a while and remember how good it felt to have some sort of progress. January 28th, 2018  was a great day.  May there be more such days to come.

A Year in Review (Note Chart at Bottom)

(This was just too perfect to pass up! Photo from thecoli.com)

Happy Anniversary!  We will be celebrating this adminstration’s first birthday by taking a few days off…

As discussed one year ago, data should be kept and used as a tool.  Here are the same variables I used in the first iteration of this thread.*  Last year's numbers are in parentheses.  Trump's improvements are highlighted in red.  As per last year, economic data are from www.tradingeconomics.com.

Presidential Approval Rating:  40.1% (51.7%) **

U.S. News Ranking (“Best Countries”): 7 (4)

U.S. News Education Ranking (“Best Countries for Education”): 7 (3)

Inflation Rate:  2.1% (2.1%)

Unemployment Rate:  4.1% (4.7%)

Actual GDP Growth: 3.2% (2.94%)

Federal Budget Deficit: $666,000,000,000 ($587,000,000,000)

Trade Deficit:  $50,497,000,000 ($45,240,000,000)

Americans without Health Insurance: 12.12% (9%)

Gasoline at Nacogdoches Wal-Mart: $2.69 ($2.039)

Gallon of Milk at Nacogdoches Kroger: $2.39 ($2.49)

Unauthorized Immigrants Living in USA: 11,009,000 (11,000,000)

Philippines:   LOVEFEST.  (Strained Relations—not even sure how to classify this one)

Syria: Known Failure (Failure: cannot find a metric at all!) +

U.S. Soldiers in Combat Zones: Pending  (13,300 & 5,524 listed as “unknown/classified” was the best I could find on this.) + 

*  I am recovering from surgery, and some of these links may mis-direct you.  Sorry!

** From realclearpolitics.com.  Of course, this number will likely drop in the coming week.

+ Please read the following paragraphs:

These last two items are very difficult to determine.  Military.com carries the Dept. of Defense message: “The long-standing official number of U.S. troops in Afghanistan, or Force Management Level, has been 8,448, but Marine Lt. Gen. Frank McKenzie said for the first time that the actual number in Afghanistan is about 11,000.”  Comparison may be difficult.

On the other hand, the Buzzfeed article on Syria states, “Former military officials and experts say 2017 also showed a worrisome trend toward less transparency about how and where US troops are killed.”  I find it very difficult to believe things could get less transparent than they were a year ago.

One Indicator You Should Watch Closely 

(mediocre article here)

Chart from seekingalpha.com.