In the past two days, I’ve been told in the most loving way possible by two separate individuals, whom I admire very much based on their academic and artistic careers, that I need to quit my job.

This is in addition to the constant cajoling of several other caring creatives I am honored to call friends to move to New York, LA or Chicago.

My students even ask me what the hell I’m still doing here.

What am I doing here?

There are no more carrots dangling in front of my nose. Every question I didn’t want to ask but asked anyway has been answered definitively with answers I already knew but hoped not to hear. So why am I still pulling the cart?

It’s just cash, man.

And I’m not getting any younger.

Universe, this is my metaphorical message in a bottle. What say you?