Listen to Knockin' on Heaven's Door as loud as I want just so the whole neighborhood knows. Start making posters about acceptable reasons to cry in public. Paste them all over the city with a glue made from white cake flour and water. Run up extremely steep hills lined with old houses filled with people: some happy, some miserable, some who know how to be happy & sad at the same time. Move across the United States of America. With ALL MY FURNITURE! which is only a mattress and two chairs. Maybe a lamp in a few weeks. Or NEVER MOVE ANYWHERE! and go to school until I'm 80 years old. Make my students write stuff real people will actually read.
It feels like a good, old-fashioned Beyonce song. And, I think that's a good place to start the morning—doing a small, feisty shimmy and thinking to the day: you must not know 'bout me.