Half.

Something I've always enjoyed doing is finding some sense of organization in my life. Not like, trapper keeper, wall unit, filing cabinet organization, but the tidy little details that give me a sense that there's some much bigger plan for everything and that maybe everything that's meant to happen actually does happen, but only when it's supposed to, in accordance with the Bigger Plan.

I'll give you an idea what I mean here. My first day of work: I'm driving along, wondering if I made the right decision, thinking my brain into a puddle of brain mush, when SUDDENLY I stop at a red light, directly behind a car whose license plate reads DLR15378. Okay, I made the numbers up, but the letters are what's important because they're my initials, and had I not been on my way to that exact job at that exact moment, I would have never have seen that and honestly, when was the last time you saw a random car with your initials on it? Exactly. Coincidence? Obviously, but still.

Exhibit B: So today is my half birthday, and what do I get? An earthquake. A real one. A bonafide, not-pre lunch low blood sugar vertigo, not arbitrary agency-wide step dancing competition, not Hobsey the Prince of Movers juggling hide-a-bed couches on the upper floors, genuine seismic disruption. This would be a revelation on its own, but is actually even more significant because what did I learn exactly six months ago? That things people brush off as not happening in real life actually do happen, they just happen in Los Angeles. Apparently Los Angeles and I are on a bi-yearly reminder that, rare though they may be, what is written in fiction always stems from what happens in reality. Now I have high hopes for something really cool to happen on my birthday, you know, to make up for the stupid reality checks. Maybe Jurassic Park will become real. That'd rock.

Going back to my earthquake, I was surprised at what a non-issue it was, especially since I was in the bowels of a building (which, incidentally, is built on some sort of wheel apparatus that makes for a very flowy, sea-swellesque experience that makes the victims feel as though they're on a lovely, involuntary boat ride) and was, in the event of a serious emergency, set up to be in a third class, locked behind the gates and left to drown type situation, to go with a Titanic metaphor. Now we're all supposed to start prepping for The Big One, which could occur at any moment. Fantastic. This must be why California is so focused on hybrid cars, recycling,cups made out of corn and other feeble attempts at environmental salvage. People here feel like they need to do something because they know that if those glaciers melt and cause the plates to shift, guess which state is the first to go? Right. Adios, California. Sunk. 

Hopefully by the time that happens I will either have already died an old, old lady warm in her bed or if it has to happen before then, hopefully I'll be shacked up somewhere on Beacon Hill, reaping the benefits of my brilliant Hollywood career. 

I wonder what Nostradamus would have to say about this. I wonder if he does individualized consultations, or if he reserves his clairvoyency for disaster for the human race as a whole. I also wonder if the psychic's name is Nosferatu and not Nostradamus. One is a vampire, one is obsessed with the world's demise and I always get their names mixed up.