Where do I go from here? God, how many times have I asked myself that question? If I had a nickel... It's strange when for a while you feel like you've got a plan; life makes sense. The planets are in order, and the sun is shining. Then, some clouds drift in; it gets windy and you can smell the rain. You try to run for cover, or at least, open your umbrella in time to save yourself from being drenched. The heavens open their flood gates. Suddenly, you're in a river of muddy water, rapids, and debris. The umbrella floats past, mocking your effort. What now? Which direction do you swim? Against the current, or with it? Do you call out for help? Who is listening? Do you even try to make it back to shore, or do you just let the river rush you away into the sea?
