Great, it's on. Here we go again. I guess it's on.

I guess it's not surprising by now that I've held down a lot of odd jobs. It's just something you get used to when you live in the middle of the ocean. Come to think of it, I can't remember the last time I stepped foot on the mainland.

Not that it matters. If you would ask me what my favorite job was, I'd have a hard time

telling you. Not because I've actually liked any of them. It's just... What's just like walking into one of those stores that sells candles, and you get overwhelmed

with all the smells? You walk over to the bargain section and have to pick through all the

discounted scents, trying to find the one that you dislike the least. Trouble is, none of those

candles smell good.

I guess that's not 100% fair, though.

There was one time where I had a glimmer of hope that I wouldn't hate everything about being here,

and it happened in a place I never thought I'd care about.

A movie theater.

If you were to ask anyone what I think about entertainment, they tell you that I find it somewhat frivolous.

Sure, Bertie has his rom-coms, Eta has, whatever you want to call her, attempts of playing the piano.

And Kate, well, I don't know what Kate has. Creepy recordings from dead people, I guess, but that's not the point.

To me, stories are a reminder of everything I'm not, and everything I'll never have the chance to be.

I don't need to go on an adventure to save some fantasy land from an evil guy with a

jewelry obsession or be a quippy superhero. I'd rather just be me. But hey, to each their own.

Before anyone thinks that I haven't seen a movie or read a book, I'd like to state, for the record,

that I've done both of these things, multiple times. In fact, when I was much younger, I'd like to state, for the record, that I've done both of these things, multiple

times.

In fact, when I was much younger, I worked for a movie theater over by Checkpoint 14.

The grand anemone was the bridge's Ritzius multiplex.

...