6 months, 8 days since my last confession.

Back to writing. I'd stopped for a while partly because my circumstances have changed dramatically and partially because I just didn't have it in me. But excuses are crap. It's like the small green guy with the backwards grammatical syntax says, "Do or do not." So I'm doing. You'll have to forgive the lack of flow for a short while,I'm out of practice, and down a muse.

It's been an eventful six months. I've been fired, hired, moved twice, bought a car, grown up, (sold out), gotten older, improved my credit score and found a competitive streak I thought I'd lost.

In the beginning of November I was asked by my employer if I wouldn't mind not coming in anymore. There's more of a story there but the short form is I immediately went out in pursuit of a job I'd been considering for a couple of years. After almost a month of unemployment I convinced the General Sales Manager at the local Honda store that I really, possibly, might not terrify every customer that walked through the doors. So on December First I started selling Hondas and Hyundais and, as it turns out, I'm pretty good at it. I attribute this to my father. If there's a genetic predisposition for a higher than average ability to sell things than I got it from him. I sold twelve cars in my first month. I've won prizes. I even traded my rav4 in for a very smart Civic coupe. It pays well enough for the time being and there's a distinct satisfaction that comes with being good at what you do.

Success is nice but you've got to watch out for hubris, Memento Mori and all that. I got in a bit of a spat with my former landlord. In my defense, these people were batshit crazy when I moved in and their psychosis became only more pronounced in my tenure on Eoff street. That being said, I can be superiorly antagonistic SOB when I want to be and this time it bit me in the ass. So be it. I moved in with a friend of mine, and her ferrets, for a couple of months and have just recently taken over an apartment that makes the old one look like a hovel. I love my new place. It's smaller than what I had but it's just me,and the kitties, and it's perfect. A couple of very good people helped me paint. I bought myself a ridiculous television and a nice pasta pot. I went to IKEA. I have central-freakin'-air and a washer and dryer that isn't four floors down in a different building. I look forward to coming home at night.

That's the reader's digest version, but it's going to have to be enough for now. I promise to try not to make it another six months before doing this again.