2. I have an opportunity -- not a lock, but a good shot at -- a regular, good-paying job as a music writer for a big local weekly. The upside is that it'd be huge for my portfolio, it conceivably would pay enough for me to quit my job, and I'd finally be writing for a living. The downside is, I don't know that I'd really be interested in writing about music full-time. I'm going to apply for the job, no question; I even hope I get it, which, I repeat, it is far from guaranteed I will. But, while I may be shooting myself in the food here, I really don't know if this is my ideal job. Music writing is a lot of fun for me, but I can see it becoming a chore if I have to do it full-time. Of course, it's not like I'd be writing ad copy or sales presentations, and it certainly would be an improvement on my current shitty office job, so this is probably yet another thing I should quit whining about.
3. I used to not like Brazilian jazz. Now I do. How about that.
4. Possible sign of maturity: I am much more able to feel happy for my friends who acheive success now than I used to be. I'm even happy for my friends who get married and have kids, which I used to view as something of a surrender. I'm still utterly convinced that I'm right about everything, and I still have no interest in moving in those directions myself, but I'm a lot closer to a seperate peace than I am at war with the world. This means something, but I don't know what.
5. I always used to say that I would never, ever, ever take up running. My (running) joke was, I only run if someone's chasing me, and even then I'd rather turn around and fight. But when my gym membership ran out -- I renewed it, but I my new membership doesn't start until the 22nd -- I decided that I shouldn't knock running until I actually tried it. So, for a full week, I tried running. I ran short distances to start, then I worked my way up to running 2 full circuits around the park, and then finally ran a couple of miles to a friend's house. And you know what? I was right. I hate running. I hate it and I don't want to do it any more. After I run, my knees hurt, my shins hurt, my feet hurt, my head hurts, and I feel like I'm about to have a heart attack, which I probably am. I do feel like I've gotten a good workout, but unlike when I've been lifting weights or fighting or doing a machine-assisted workout, I don't feel good; I feel like hell. I feel like I've been through a painful ordeal that I barely survived. So, you know what? I'm not gonna do it. Some people, I think, were just not meant to run, and I am obviously one of those people. But at least I gave it a shot.