Something happened today, but I can’t tell you about it. I might jinx it. Apparently, I’m very superstitious when it comes to things like what happened today. I had to wear a ring from my grandma and a necklace from my aunt to the thing that happened today, with the theory that they’d act as comforting, powerful talismans. (Hey, just because I’m not a hobbit, doesn’t mean my life can’t be influenced by magical jewelry.) I had to drink from my lucky cup–an oversize teacup with Monet’s Red Poppies at Argenteuil–before I went to the thing that happened today. But I couldn’t have coffee, because that would only mess with my nerves before the thing that happened today, so I had nice, hydrating water. I had to listen to You Make My Dreams, by Hall & Oates, and Michael Jackson’s Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough before going to the thing that happened today. That’s what I listened to the last time I went to something like what happened today, and it was really great pump-me-up, here-I-come music. Plus, these songs make me think of the funny Chris Tucker and a happy, sexually-satisfied Joseph Gordon Levitt. (If that sounds creepy, I beg you to extend your movie-watching to include Jackie Chan buddy flicks and indie films.)
I took the ferry boat to go to San Francisco, where the thing that happened today happened. I couldn’t sit backwards on the ferry, because it would be bad symbolism to go towards your potential future, backwards. (You can take the girl out of the English classes…) I had to sit on the right side of the boat, because on that side you can watch as the city by the bay gets closer and closer. Again…lucky symbolism. As the heroine of this story that is my life, I figure good symbolism can’t hurt. The thing that happened today might benefit from some symbolism–who knows?
Don’t ask me, because I can’t say any more about the thing that happened today. Maybe it had something to do with watched pots and boiling lives, maybe it didn’t. Maybe I’m DYING for a positive outcome, after the thing that happened today. Maybe I spent the whole ferry ride back thinking this-is-the-first-day-of-the-rest-of-your-life thoughts.
But I can’t talk about it.