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A week has passed and I have written nothing.  That isn’t entirely true, I have written things.  What I have not done is begin and finish writing a singular thought.  There is ever a latent lassitude waiting to encroach upon any productivity I attempt.

This year centers entirely around my intention to move north; wait for me, Bay Area.  The particulars of how I will go about this have yet to be ironed out (do people still iron?) but that isn’t what interests me right now.  I am no longer confused when the way I approach tasks/goals/problems in life befuddles others; instead I attempt to discover what is causing cognitive dissonance.  Whether solving for x, tying shoe laces or eating waffles, the look I receive from others clearly says lo haces más dificil.  I remain obdurate in my commitment to taking the scenic route.  What really gets my goat (check that off the bucket list) is the smug sneer that consistently follows my assertion that I am, “Over this city of angels,” which is my response to any critical comment concerning the plans I currently have in place.  These plans, they don’t matter.  What is, to me, of utmost importance is getting the fuck out of dodge (check) and abandoning the poor, soulless vesicles of narcissism that infest the southern coast of this state.  These tragic vehicles of apathy are so entrenched in the fairy-tale lives which exist solely in their heads that, prior experience not withstanding, they are unable to conceive that maybe things are different.  They have this idea that in every theater across the globe they are playing the same movie to a room filled with the same popcorn munching, media absorbing bags of flesh.  The past may have been more moral but you can’t improve your situation simply by relocating, they say, not realizing the contradiction in their “beliefs”.  I don’t think things will be better, but they will be different.  I’m told that things get worse before they get better; am I the only one ready for things to get downright apocalyptic?

P.P.S.  My boss blows raspberries at me.  Sometimes he claws the air and makes hissing noises at me.  How does one respond to this professionally?