In less than an hour, I'll meet Christie for coffee. We'll talk, she'll tell me how much she hurt when she got here and how much better she feels now and that I should give it a chance. And I will tell her I have an interview today with a new teacher. And if my director hires him, I am leaving Saturday morning.
Daniel seems nice. He's got a pretty nice name, right, bro? And, he's in a bad situation. He's without a job in Gwangju, having been screwed over by an unscrupulous director and is currently living in a motel. That he was in this bad situation, and found my job advertisement online less than a week before my already purchased plane tickets are to take me out of here, feels like fate. Whether you believe in that (and, the majority of the time I don't), it sure feels like a sign.
People ask, what will you do when you come home? Will you go back to the newspaper? Will you regret coming home? Will you fall back into familiar routines or tread new ground, ground not so damn far from your roots? What will you do when you come home?
My answer: anything I damn well want. Everything is open.
The day of judgement begins.
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