The Cat and the Human.

She had loved that cat. Adored her. At times I’d even joked that she loved her more than me. I knew that wasn’t the case, of course, but it seemed like the feeling between her and the cat was mutual.

I didn’t mind for the most part, of course. I loved the cat, too, and I always appreciated any time she came and sat in the chair in my office while I was working. I knew that her priority was sitting somewhere comfortable and warm rather than necessarily enjoying my company, but it was nice to feel like she wanted to be in the same room as me now and again.

Now her real master was gone, though, and she was left with just me, forever second-best. I could see the sadness in her eyes. I could see it in the dejected-looking way that she sat on her cat tree. I could see it in the way that she just didn’t seem to have the energy she once did.

The cat’s obvious sadness made me feel miserable, too. It was an uncomfortable reminder of past times of joy, never to be repeated. Once we had been a family of sorts, always together, always sharing in the wonders of life. Now we were just a man and his cat.

And yet, at some point, I don’t know when… we bonded more than we ever had done. Our shared grief brought us together. Just as I recognised how the cat was suffering from her absence, so too did the cat recognise that it had hit me hard, too. And slowly, little by little, completely wordlessly, our relationship began to change.

I remember the first night it happened. I was lying in the bed which now felt entirely too large for me, tossing and turning, struggling to get to sleep. Suddenly, I felt something; a weight on the bed. And I heard something: a soft purring. In the dark, I could just make out the shape of the cat. She had come to see me in the night; she never used to do this, usually preferring to sleep in her comfy cat bed downstairs in the living room.

But now she was here, purring softly in my ear. She headbutted my outstretched hand until I began to pet her, and she rubbed her face on my hand as I tickled her cheeks and chin.

Then, she sat down. It was a decisive move, a declaration. She managed to mould herself so that she fit perfectly into the curve of my arm that was extended across the empty half of the bed, and quickly curled up, ready to fall asleep. Her soft fur felt good against my arm, and I felt a sense of relaxation wash over me — a feeling that I hadn’t really been able to enjoy for some time now.

From thereon, I had that feeling every night. Things were going to be all right, in their own strange way.

She loved me, too. This cat loved me. Perhaps it had taken our shared loss for her to really feel like she could show it, but I was left in no doubt whatsoever.

Neither of us wanted to be alone. And now, neither of us would be alone.

---

Please do not worry about me, everything is fine and this is not an autobiographical blog post! The above is a piece of creative writing following the prompt “A human and a cat who come to some sort of mutual understanding.”

2471: Memoirs of an Ordinary Person

I’ve been listening to some audiobooks while I’ve been working the past few days. I’ve just finished Dave Gorman’s Too Much Information — a work that resonated all too well with me, given my growing frustration with the cacophonous “noise” of everyday life — and have since started on Sue Perkins’ Spectacles, her memoir.

One thing I’ve often wondered over the years is whether or not there’s any perceived value in the memoirs of “ordinary people” — in other words, memoirs written by people who aren’t celebrities, or even those who haven’t had anything seemingly noteworthy happen to them. And I’m inclined to think that there is — after all, the best celebrity memoirs are the ones that talk not about being a celebrity, but about their childhood, or formative experiences growing up, or things that they’ve experienced that helped make them the person they are today. Things that are relatable to the audience; things that are relatable to “normal” people.

There’s value in having a celebrity name attached, of course: someone who enjoys Sue Perkins’ TV and radio appearances is likely to pick up her memoir simply because they like her, for example. But this doesn’t mean her life story is inherently more valuable than anyone else’s. In fact, I’d wager a guess that there are lots of people out there who have had lives far more interesting than today’s celebrities have.

In my experience, whether or not the person whose life you are reading about is famous or not is largely irrelevant; what does, on the other hand, matter is whether or not they have interesting stories to tell.

And, well, I don’t like to blow my own trumpet too much, but I do feel I have more than a few interesting stories to tell. My life has certainly been eventful, if nothing else. This blog has occasionally dipped into memoir-esque territory, but as an idle side project, I’ve started writing down some of the things I remember from my past.

I am a normal human being. Well, as normal as anyone is these days, which is to say I’m riddled with neuroses, suffer from depression, anxiety and social anxiety—two very different, but related things.

I digress; I am a relatively normal human being. I haven’t survived some sort of unimaginable tragedy, I haven’t had to cope with a life-threatening illness or the challenges of a physical disability and the nearest I’ve come to being involved with a famous person is working in an Apple Store at the time John Cleese came in with a black credit card, proclaiming that it could “sink a bloody battleship”. I didn’t serve him, I was just there; that’s how much of a relatively normal human being I am.

Nonetheless, Things have happened to me, much as they have doubtless happened to you, your friends and the rest of your family. These Things may not have seemed like a big deal at the time, but if you’re anything like me, you’ll have found that the strangest things stick in your memories for many years, and it seems like quite a shame to run the risk of them, at some point, being filtered out of your mind in favour of some new and ultimately useless piece of information you picked up from Wikipedia. We live in an age full of constant noise, after all, with every piece of media around us vying for our attention and threatening to fill our minds with useless dribble that might get you lots of Likes on Facebook, but which doesn’t really compare to the fond memories of your childhood.

My memories aren’t all fond. Some of them are downright painful or embarrassing, and some of them, to this day, still make me feel overwhelmingly negative emotions such as anger or grief. It’s healthy to share such memories, though; otherwise, they just get bottled up inside, and, over time, you run the risk of them overflowing and forcing you to, I don’t know, run naked through a shopping centre with a chainsaw in each hand singing Stairway to Heaven. Or, you know, something.

With all that in mind, then, writing them down in some form seems like a reasonable idea.

2449: Planning Ahead

With it being October now, I find myself pondering whether to do some creative writing this coming November as I have done for the last few years. And I think I’m going to, only this time try something a bit different.

I’ve been meaning to check out the well-known interactive fiction creation software Twine for quite some time now, and this November feels like an ideal opportunity to do so. I’ve been having a little fiddle with it this evening in an attempt to get to grips with the basics, and I think I now know enough to be able to put together a convincing interactive story over the course of a month.

For the unfamiliar, Twine is an open-source piece of software that allows you to create primarily text-based games with hyperlinks as a means of interaction. In simple terms, it allows you to create Choose Your Own Adventure-style experiences, though with a bit of scripting knowledge and/or making use of the macros available in the various story templates, you can create somewhat more complex affairs with conditional branches, variables and all manner of other goodies.

Perhaps the most appealing aspect of the software for me is the fact that it’s entirely text-based and consequently carries no need for you to be good at graphics or sound design — and no risk of people accusing you of being “lazy” for relying on predefined assets. Everything in a Twine game is a collaboration between the author’s skill at writing and the player’s own imagination. (It is possible to add graphics, sound and music to Twine games for those who see fit, but doing so feels a bit like you’re missing the point somewhat.)

Another really nice aspect of Twine is the fact that it depicts your story as a flowchart, automatically creating new branches according to the choices you offer throughout. This makes it very easy to visualise the overall flow of your story and branch it off into different routes if desired; likewise, it allows you to bring divergent paths back together pretty easily.

I need to have a think about what sort of story I want to write and how it might be interactive — the latter being a consideration that you don’t have to think about when writing linear traditional fiction! Still, I’ve read plenty of visual novels for “inspiration” over the years, so hopefully it won’t be too difficult to come up with something; going by my previous experiences, however, the true challenge will be keeping the scale of the project in check so I don’t get too overambitious and start attempting to produce something that will never be finished in a month of development!

I’ll continue experimenting in Twine in the run up to November so hopefully by the time November rolls around I’ll be proficient enough in the software to produce something convincing. And then, of course, the final product will be playable by you, dear reader, should you so desire.

2286: Disappointment

This post is a response to WordPress’ “Daily Post” writing prompt for today.

My immediate reaction to the word “disappointment” when seeing today’s writing prompt was… well, disappointment in The Daily Post’s prompts of late.

Longtime readers may recall my occasional use of The Daily Post’s writing prompts and the fact that they led to some interesting explorations of topics I might not normally explore on this blog. My default go-to topics for writing about are video games, games journalism and mental health issues, but the prompts from The Daily Post gave me a nudge to consider other topics now and again, whether they be nostalgic, hypothetical or just plain weird.

Lately, though, the prompts on the site have just been single words, and these don’t inspire me nearly as much as the questions or phrases that used to make up The Daily Post’s bank of writing prompts. I’m trying to pin down exactly why the change to this style of prompt fills me with such disappointment, and I think it’s because it provides the opportunity for too broad a range of things to write about; single-word prompts are too flexible.

Let me explain what I mean. When I decide to make use of a writing prompt for a day’s post, I like it being in the form of a question or an exam-style “Phrase. Discuss.” prompt because it provides some sort of direction to the writing. Creativity is, to me, at its most interesting when you work within some sort of constraint, because you then have to not only use your creativity to produce the work itself, but you also have to use your creativity to perhaps bend the rules of the constraint in question, too. A single word doesn’t constrain me at all; I can still pretty much write about anything tangentially related to, say, “disappointment”, and I’ve technically fulfilled the brief. That, to me, isn’t a helpful writing prompt. That, to me, makes me feel like I should have just started writing any old thing off the top of my head rather than looking for a prompt.

I’m aware that my experiences and feelings about this aren’t going to be the same as everyone else’s, and that there are doubtless plenty of bloggers out there who relish the chance to tackle the challenge of a single-word prompt and make it interesting. But for me, I always found The Daily Post much more enjoyable when it provided much clearer briefs and prompts on what to write about — and much more interesting to see how other people interpreted these briefs, too.

Hopefully we’ll see a return to form for The Daily Post at some point in the near future. If not, well, I may have to contemplate setting up something of my own. I can’t be the only one feeling disappointment in this way!

2273: One an Hour

(11:23) Today I am going to write one sentence each hour.

(12:35) It’s going well so far; I’ve remembered to follow up the first sentence with this one.

(13:26) Could do with a poo; not currently in an ideal situation to do so.

(14:22) Still need a poo, but I will survive, dammit; I will survive!

(15:07) Semicolons sure are useful for exercises like this; they effectively allow me to cheat the system and write more than one sentence at once.

(16:15). Lacerated my thumb on a security box; now both of my thumbs have been mangled by retail work.

(17:31) I’m having a poo; at last, sweet relief, and after this I’m going to go and play some old Atari games before dinner thanks to the excellent compilation Atari Vault.

(18:58) Ooh, nearly forgot to write something this hour; got in there with two minutes to spare.

(19:53) Gave the Prison Break heist in Grand Theft Auto Online another go; we still can’t nail that last part, though this time our failure was more due to the game glitching than actual incompetence for once.

(23:05) GOD FUCKING DAMMIT.

See, I could have been dishonest there and just made up sentences for the hours I forgot about, but my integrity means too much to pull the wool over your eyes in such a manner, dear reader.

Oh well, it was fun while it lasted; certainly made working on a Sunday a smidgen more palatable. I have tomorrow off, which is nice; I do like a nice midweek day off, although I only have one before it’s back to work for three days. I shouldn’t complain, I guess; it’s money, and the place where I work so far appears to be inoffensive enough for the time being.

Tomorrow will be spent sleeping, completing some freelance work assignments and playing lots of video games, in that order. The remainder of this evening will be spent playing video games, too.

2227: Filling the Days

Anyone who has been out of work will know how frustrating it is to be in that “waiting” period while you have some applications out and no idea whether or not you’re going to hear back from any of them. It seems that most companies these days use the catch-all get-out clause of there being a “very high volume of applications”, thus absolving themselves of any responsibility for actually delivering an answer to unsuccessful applicants — or even acknowledging them at all, in some cases. (I know that rationally speaking there probably is a very high volume of applications and it would be very difficult to respond to all of them, but it’s still fucking rude.)

As I noted a while ago, I’ve been trying my best to fill my days while this waiting is going on. I’ve been looking for jobs in various fields — preferably those I can perform a bit more flexibly and/or from home — and applying to a few as well as continuing with the trickle of regular-ish freelance work I’ve been undertaking, but doing that all day every day is a sure-fire recipe for wanting to fall asleep and not wake up again.

So there have been a number of ways I’ve been keeping occupied. There’s video games, of course, but those aren’t especially “productive”, though they do provide useful fodder for writing about various topics, which is handy, as well as something I can talk about with people. That’s something that’s actually quite important, particularly when you’re stuck at home: it’s a tremendously awkward position to find yourself in when you’re at a social occasion and you realise you have literally nothing of note to contribute to any conversation. (As a socially anxious person, I feel like this most of the time, so it’s best not to give myself any actual ammunition to back this up.)

I’ve been continuing to work on my book. I figured out that my writing software Scrivener has a “target” option with exciting progress bars that fill up for both your complete project and your session target, so you can have that RPG-like experience of filling bars and feeling all happy and satisfied when they’re full. I’m not yet sure what a reasonable target for each session is — I can knock out 1,500 words in one sitting without too much difficulty, but that doesn’t feel like very much and I kind of want to try and keep my momentum going without burning myself out. I’m sure I’ll pin down a suitable target; perhaps I’ll increase it little by little from 1,500 with each session and see what feels comfortable. As for the book itself, recommendations online seem to suggest a length of 80-100k words is a suitable length, so I’m aiming at the lower end of that spectrum as a minimum target; since I’m a verbose sort of chap, that leaves me some leeway to go over, whereas if I aimed specifically for 100k as a minimum, I’d have to excise big chunks to get the word count down, which is something I don’t like doing; every word is sacred, or something.

Currently, the project is at 21,000 words or so, which is quite good going — or about a quarter of the way through, if you want to look at it another way. I’m enjoying getting back into the swing of things; while I write on this blog every day and have even indulged in some creative writing on here on several occasions, simply sitting down and writing a story for the sake of writing a story rather than “because oh shit I need a blog post for today” is an enjoyable experience that stimulates my already rather overactive imagination; I’ll probably write more about how I feel while I’m writing on another occasion, as I think it’s an interesting discussion.

Aside from this, I have some other things to be getting on with, too: there’s a second edition of the Digitally Downloaded magazine in the works, and I have Japanese studies to be getting on with. Or indeed restarting to refresh my memory, since it’s been a little while since I last engaged with them. I am pleasantly surprised how much hiragana have stayed with me since my last dedicated effort to learn, though; my next hurdle — and the one that tends to stall me each time — is katakana, but I’m sure with a bit of effort I’ll be able to conquer it. Then I can get depressed at knowing I’ll never, ever know all the kanji.

Anyway. That’s how I’m filling my days at the moment. While none of this is making me any money, sadly, a few of these things do at least have the potential to lead somewhere in the future. Perhaps my book will sell. Perhaps I’ll learn enough Japanese to be able to do something with it. Perhaps the magazine will take off and we’ll be able to start charging for it. Who knows? While I have this time, it’s worth exploring these things rather than getting depressed about the fact that jobs in the traditional sense seem to be extremely, frustratingly, infuriatingly difficult to come by these days, particularly when you yourself aren’t really sure what you’re qualified and/or skilled enough to do…

2221: Seeing the Final Product Forming

I spent a chunk of time today porting the work I’ve already done on a story from Google Docs online to Scrivener on my Mac. Scrivener is a piece of software I picked up quite a while back and have used sporadically whenever I feel creative; it’s a lovely piece of software to keep written projects of any size manageable and organised.

For the unfamiliar, Scrivener allows you to organise your whole project into a single file, including the chapters and sections/scenes of your book, research material, front matter and general notes. Within the file, you have a tree structure of folders and items, with numerous templates available for various types of project. When you’re all done, you “compile” the project like a computer program, and Scrivener spits the finished product out in the format of your choice, be it double-spaced manuscript for sending to a publisher, attractively laid out pages ready for self-publishing, or various popular eBook formats. You can even export it to a word processor if you so desire, allowing you to format it further using tools beyond that which Scrivener offers.

I was surprised what a feeling of motivation I felt from porting the existing content over to Scrivener, and I attribute this primarily to the fact that what you bung into Scrivener looks remarkably like what the finished product will end up being. In fact, if you compile a project in progress to a PDF just to have a look at how things appear, it’s even more motivating, because you can imagine holding the finished book in your hands. That’s quite exciting.

Just the fact that Scrivener uses some very attractive, convincingly “book-like” default fonts helps with this feeling of seeing the final product coming together, though. Couple that with the fact that Scrivener’s interface is designed to be as clean and distraction-free as possible, and all in all you have a piece of software that is eminently suitable for creative types to realise their written ambitions — even if you barely use a fraction of the functionality the software has to offer, which I suspect is a category I will probably fall into unless I want to get really anal about page headers or something.

Anyway. This is a long-winded way of saying that I have been successfully motivating myself to continue with my creative writing project while I still don’t have any full time work. I’m under no illusions that I’ll be able to make money from this — at least initially — but the story I’m working on at present is a passion project that it will simply be satisfying to see completed at last, and released into the wild. If anyone ends up actually buying it, so much the better, of course, but if nothing else completing a project of this sort will 1) show me that I can do it, and hopefully inspire me to do more that take less than 15 years to complete and 2) stop my mother telling me every so often that I should “write that book”. (She hasn’t done that for a while, to be fair, which probably means it’s due a mention sometime soon… I know you’re reading, Mum, so take this as assurance that I’m doing it.)

So that’s that. Writer? Windows or OSX-equipped? Give Scrivener a go, and you might just be surprised how much you can get done.

2219: Picking at the Scab of Creativity

That’s a horrible metaphor, I know, but the more I think about it, the more that it seems to make a certain amount of sense.

I’ve been picking at said scab for the last few days, as I said I was going to. I haven’t been spending all day on it or anything, but an hour here and an hour there has meant that a story I’ve been wanting to finish since my teenage years is finally making some progress further beyond the point where it typically stalls any time I attempt to form it into some sort of… well, format.

I’m taking a different approach to what I usually do, and it feels like it’s working. Those who have read my various month-long sort of NaNoWriMo projects and other creative pieces will know that I have something of a tendency to write in a fairly spontaneous manner — in other words, I don’t really plan anything out in advance, and this usually serves me well but occasionally sees me writing myself into a bit of a dead end I’m not sure how to escape from. In contrast, then, said scab-picking has involved not just continuing on with what I’ve already written — which is a substantial number of words that I’m actually quite pleased with so far — but instead planning out a synopsis, chapter by chapter, of what’s coming next.

Doing this has helped me get over the biggest creative block I’ve had with this work — a creative block that has lasted a good 15 years or so at last count. The trouble with this story is that I know how it begins and I know roughly how it ends, but I’ve never quite figured out what happens in the middle of it or the specifics of the ending. Now I’m planning each chapter out in general terms rather than trying to write meaningful scenes as I get to them, I feel like I’m developing a much stronger sense of the work’s complete structure, and those middle bits are starting to fall into place naturally. It’s that old thing where a huge job looks daunting if you look at the whole thing, but if you take it a single task at a time it suddenly seems a lot more manageable.

So picking a scab then — why? Well, because I’ve been picking at it for the last few days, and each time I do so, I feel my creativity loosen up a bit. It’s surely — hopefully — only a matter of time before that scab comes off completely and creativity comes gushing forth from a newly reopened wound, splattering the walls and desk with… you know what? Maybe I didn’t think this metaphor through as much as I thought I had.

Anyway. Disgusting mental imagery aside, I’m pleased with my progress, even though it’s relatively minor in the grand scheme of what I need to do to finish the damn thing. It is progress, though, and while I’m still not feeling great about bumming around at home all day rather than having a proper job, it is at least helping me to feel like I’m achieving something, however miniscule that something might be. And that’s pretty important.

Let’s hope I can keep that motivation going, a bit at a time.

2217: When You Have No Occupation, You Should Stay Occupied

One of the things that is most difficult about being out of work is keeping yourself occupied without falling into unproductive routines. It would be extremely easy to not bother doing anything useful at all each and every day, treating the time “off” as a kind of holiday, watching television, playing games, listening to the radio or falling into a deep, existential depression while staring at the ceiling of one’s bedroom. I say it is extremely easy to do these things because I have done all these things while out of work at various points. Sometimes you need that time to yourself, but unfortunately, said time to yourself doesn’t pay the bills.

Doing nothing but hunting for jobs isn’t necessarily the most productive course of action either, though. Job-hunting is an enormously demoralising experience, since by its very definition you’re going to be faced with more inexplicable rejection than acceptance in most cases. At other times, you’ll find yourself faced with an opportunity that just doesn’t seem quite right, but which you feel guilty turning down because you need work. (I say this having turned down two opportunities recently that didn’t feel right at all. Like, a big ol’ “bad feeling in the guy” not right at all.) That can be exhausting, and the toll it takes on your mental faculties can have an adverse effect on your subsequent attempts to find work as you lose patience with it and get tempted to apply to any old thing on the off-chance someone will find you in any way employable.

Therefore, it’s important to find other ways to occupy yourself, and to divide your days up into various things that, if they’re not necessarily directly productive, they at least provide you with the opportunity to feel like you’ve accomplished something. Indulging in a creative project, learning something new, practising your skills in something — all of these things are good ways to spend your time and if you’re out of work, it’s an ideal opportunity to spend some of those empty hours doing them.

You’ll notice that I’m writing this and using the word “you” a lot, as if I’m giving advice to someone else. Really, I’m giving advice to myself, to be perfectly honest, since as previously noted, I find it much too easy to sink into depression and just want to comfort myself with things that don’t require too much in the way of effort. But that way leads further into bad situations, so from tomorrow, I’m going to make a particular effort to spend a bit of time each day doing something that makes me feel like I’ve accomplished something. I don’t think I’m going to go so far as to schedule what I should do when — not for the moment, anyway, though that has worked for me in the past — but I am going to ensure that I do at least one thing every day for a minimum of an hour that leaves me feeling satisfied that I’m not completely wasting my time.

Activities that spring immediately to mind to accomplish this include music practice, music composition, creative writing (both fiction and non-fiction — I have a number of ideas for both), Japanese language studies, developing my computer skills (particularly with regard to things like programming and/or web design), working on the next edition of the magazine I shared with you a while back and making more gaming videos. That should keep me busy on a fairly regular basis; some of those things may even lead to further actual paying opportunities of various descriptions in the future, if not immediately.

Mostly they’re attempts to keep myself occupied and feeling positive. I feel I’m at a particularly low ebb right now, if that wasn’t already abundantly clear from my recent entries, and I want to feel like I’m making the best of a bad situation rather than wallowing in sadness. It won’t be easy, but I feel it’s probably the best way to approach what I’m dealing with at the moment.

Wish me luck.

2151: Life Line

“You’re on a long flight, and a palm reader sitting next to you insists she reads your palm. You hesitate, but agree. What does she tell you?”

Daily Post, December 10, 2015

[This didn’t post yesterday for some reason, so here it is today.]

“Hmm,” she says in a long, drawn-out sort of way, clearly milking the moment for maximum drama. I look around, conscious that other passengers are surreptitiously watching to see what’s going on, clearly having overheard her request. Then I look back at her. She’s gazing intently at my proffered palm, running her fingertip down what I assume, as a layman, to be my “lifeline”, but she’s saying nothing for the moment; all I can hear is the low drone of the engines, and the somewhat subdued conversation of the other passengers in the cabin.

“Your path has been a meandering one,” she says at last. “You have stumbled headlong into chaos on frequent occasions, or perhaps it is more accurate to say that chaos has sought you out; it is hard to tell at this point.”

I say nothing but incline my head slightly in silent agreement. Well, she’s off to a running start, at least.

“You have endured many hardships on your travels,” she says. “They may not have been physical hardships, or even hardships that people could see you struggling with, but they were hardships nonetheless.”

I feel my skepticism fading away a little as she offers what appears to be an accurate assessment of my life to date; that said, there’s still a little voice in the back of my mind pointing out that everything she’s said so far is fairly ambiguous and could probably be applied to anyone.

“Your pain has helped to forge you,” she continues. “Your struggles have made you stronger, but at a cost: turbulence, uncertainty, a lack of clarity.”

I glance around to see how many passengers had reacted to the mention of “turbulence” — not a word you want to utter on a plane in most instances — but most people in the immediate area appear to have returned to their own business, or at least are being subtle about their eavesdropping if they are indeed indulging their own curiosity.

She’s not wrong, but again, these statements could probably apply to anyone out there. Without context and specifics, I remain not entirely convinced of her reading’s veracity.

“Your future remains uncertain,” she says, her finger apparently reaching its destination on my palm and ceasing its movement; she doesn’t break contact, however. “You desire nothing more than to know exactly what the future holds, and how you can ensure you are on the correct path. But the truth is that there is no correct path, only the path that you choose to take. While it may feel like you are at something of a crossroads right now, be sure that you will make a decision and proceed down a road, and that road will be the correct one for you. It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow, it may not even be next year. But your route will one day be illuminated, and you shall find your way.”

She releases my hand, which plops back into my lap.

“Thank you,” I say simply. Ultimately I’m not sure I’ve learned anything particularly new from her statements, but if nothing else they gave me pause to reflect on my life, the decisions I’ve made, the decisions that were made for me, and what the future might hold, as uncertain as it might be.

Finding that route will be scary, no doubt, but as I look at her gently smiling at me, I feel like there’s at least one person out there who has faith I’ll make the right choices somewhere along the way, and that everything will work out for the best.

I hope she’s right.