Rebecca Black shit with me. Fridays are sweet-bitter days for me. I've got to change that, starting tonight. Maybe I'll take a bath, though I'm not sure why it's turning people into zombies. Perhaps they should try the lavender and nag champa scent. It always worked for me. Even gato liked that scent, and he doesn't like anything or anyone.
Or maybe I'll go for a walk. It seems to clear my head and close my heart — the perfect combination for me today. I need to be as clear-headed as possible as I decide what to do with the rest of my life. There's a job offer on the table and the chance for me to rip up some roots and move to someplace new. I've alerted the bosses and asked a few friends for advice but I don't know what to do; the only certainty is that the decision is mine to make and no matter what I do, I will disappoint most everyone (the ones who want me to stay will be pissed if I leave; the ones who want me to vanish from their orbits will be pissed if I stay). Story of my life — but isn't that what journalists are supposed to do? A professor I knew used to dispense this advice: "If no one in your story is happy, you've done your job." That same dude also gave me the pearl of wisdom that still rules my world: "If your mother says she loves you, check it out."
Check it out. Take nothing at face value. I forgot that lesson for a little while but I won't make that mistake again. Screw Journey: don't believe. The minute you start believing and holding on to that feeling, you're asking for trouble.