The fortune cookie is a fucking liar!

There's a ton of shit I haven't told you. Or maybe I have, that is if you've seen me in reality instead of in writing only. But if you only read me you definitely don't know this. What happened?

Back in November I got a job. Then in January I got a new job. One I deemed better. Then I got a new iPod - but that might be a little irrelevant however very pleasing. And now I have no job. I got fired. Not exactly sure what for, but in a very informal text message I was told to not bother to come since a replacement had been found for me. Mmmmkay... That was last weekend. Ever since I have been irritating people by being spectacularly nonchalant and chipper about this. It's not even a fake chipperness (chipperyness? chipness?), I am actually, fantastically okay with this. I did like the job, don't get me wrong, at first at least but last week I found myself beginning to wonder how to get rid of it without being a complete asshole; See, text message quitting is not my thing. Ahem. Ironically.

I felt like I was wasting time. There was nothing wrong with the job per se, but it was keeping me from something. For the first time in a very long time I have been feeling the need to go forward. It was odd, what with all the delving into my past and feeling stuck in the present (= the sofa) I couldn't place it at first. I thought I was just getting restless again. I know the feeling, the urge to run, I know it well. All my life I have been told that I give up too easily just like I've been told that my father was like that too. Giving up, throwing in the towel, being a loser. Why thank you very much for that compliment... But you were wrong, that's not it at all. I finally figured out me and my father. We were, in fact, not quitting things fast enough; We got ourselves stuck in the wrong things because we didn't dare quit them for fear of what that would say about us. Of course, I'll never know this certainly about my father but I can definitely confirm this for myself. I have wasted so much frakkin' time sticking to things that I very early on discovered were making me unhappy just because I didn't want to look like a quitter - weak, uncertain, undecided.

But that made me weak in the first place! I get now that walking away would've been the much braver choice. I always did it in the end but I could've spared myself so much pain if I'd only done it faster, the instant I knew for sure, follow my instinct instead of keeping up appearances. I believed them when they told me I was running away, but damnit I was running towards something, couldn't they see that? I couldn't, not for sure, not without giving in to the doubt that was implanted in me so carefully all my life. It took me all these years and getting fired at the right moment to see it. Getting the boot was a blessing! Otherwise I would've held out just like that fortune cookie said years ago: With perseverance you should go ahead. (Don't ask me how I'm still remembering a fortune cookie I ate about a decade ago but can't remember to take out the trash when I leave the house...)

I would've waited too long, again, just to keep up appearances. Well, pardon my language, but fuck perseverance, and fuck appearances. I'm done walking through doors that turn out to be nothing but the fake door leading to the back of the stage. The next door I'm taking I'll sniff the air first, see if there's an actual horizon waiting.