Suffice it to say, I'm listening to Soul Decision's "Faded" as I write this.
Haha, so days of not posting because of psychological crises and nostalgia and that's what I come up with as an opening. You deserve more, blog. You really deserve more.
Suffice it to say, I was let go from my website work.
In an e-mail.
Over the weekend.
As a reply to my e-mail about possible working hours.
Irony slaps with wimpy hands, but she slaps when you're not ready.
Yeah, it wasn't the positive response I was hoping for, considering the optimistic subject line, but it was actually an inevitability that I always dreaded and almost hoped was coming. I mean, it started out really fun, but it started to dwindle to drudge work. And I could tell that I wasn't really capturing what my boss wanted. I was getting too comfortable anyway.
It started to almost feel like we were married and not seeing eye-to-eye anymore, but stayed with one another because we didn't necessarily do anything wrong. I still bought milk. She still made the bed. We both sat there watching prime time dramas and reality shows as if that spark of a relationship wasn't gone.
Pam said I have to stop looking at things like relationships. I told her that once I've had one, I'll stop doing it. In the meantime, it's a dark comedy coping mechanism.
On the bright side, both of my new internships seem really stoked to have me. They make me feel like a God's send, which is always nice. And, one is in an office! Yeah! I finally get to go to an office in the morning! I ride the subway with the rest of the workers there and back, and because this is all new, I don't mind that my face can be in some guy's armpit or that I have to stand really, really still as the subway crowds at certain stops, because I'm in an office!
I have a cubicle and a phone and an e-mail address with the company's website. It's in a studio space, and from what I can tell as I passed by a few opened doors, our neighbors include a hair salon and a few designers, which is pretty cool. I run into some of these people in the elevators, and I feel frumpy next to them with their nice hair and cosmopolitan outfits. I questioned if I vaguely smelled like subway armpit too.
But that's not also why I've been so remiss in updating you, blog. I've been busy writing. Yes, I'm actually looking up contests and free-submission writing prompts, anything that will have me or give me a good deadline to work with, and while it's all self-motivated, it feels more fun going to coffee houses and libraries to work on stories, rather than website work.
So, as you can see, blog, I've been optimistically busy, because, well...
Okay, so being let go bothered me. I admit it. Happy? It was my first time being let go from something. I've always left on my own accord, and while my boss never cited any real reason of my own doing, I felt like a slight failure, especially if it resulted in this.
Because there's only so much rejection a girl can take, and a big part of me wanted to do something reckless and selfish and extremely ill-planned.
A part of me wanted to go back home.
Isn't that a bit much? Isn't that a bit over-dramatic? I mean, I wasn't over being here, but a part of me wanted to pretend to press pause for a moment to come up with a better game plan. I figured going back home would be it. But, as I jokingly (but really trying to gage a reaction) told this to my sister, she only gave me a curious "oh?" that wasn't helpful or hurtful or encouraging at all, and as I tried to egg her on to tell me to do it, she got more confused, asking me why was I so scared to try something else? Why was this affecting me more than it should? It wasn't like I liked it. It wasn't like I wanted to do this for a living.
I hung up and went to take a shower.
I called her back after I got out.
She was right. She didn't really get it at first, but I told her that she was right and that I wasn't really upset. I really wasn't. One, when I first read the let-go e-mail in my favorite bagel shop, Michael Jackson's "Man in the Mirror" was playing. The line of "I'm starting with me!" hit me at the right moment as I started to panic, and it was almost cinematic in how I resignedly agreed with Michael that I probably had to do something. Just right after I finished my bagel and lox. Second, I remember telling my friend Lauren that I didn't care what I was doing in New York, because, hell, I'd be in New York.
Because, my sister told me, I already made that first step. I'm already here, so why not just try the next step?
This follows something I call the cake principle. I love the cake principle. It follows what I understand to be the "have your cake and eat it too" scenario: like going to New York would be the cake, getting the job I want would be the eating it too, but seeing as that part hasn't happened, I still have the cake. The option for eating it is still viable, just probably not now. And I guess I'd rather have the cake and eat it later, rather than not having it at all.
On another note, the Arctic Monkeys are playing in my home state at a music festival the year I decide to move out? Cake. I need to remember that I have cake.