Being Me, Being Fired

My tummy feels funny.

I'm not nauseous, I'm not ill, it just feels funny. Like, weird. Not ha-ha. Hmm. I don't know what it is. Maybe I'm dying of salmonella or e-coli or something. I had a bacon & tomato sandwich for breakfast, figuring I'd behave like an unemployed schlepp, and I scraped out the bottom of the mayo container to make it happen. Now I feel funny.

I drank a little much last night. Me and GayBoy killed off a 1L bottle of Shiraz, and I can't hold my alcohol like I usedta could. It seems like GayBoy and I have a good drinking night every year right around my birthday, and this was that. The opening toast was to getting fired.

I'll tell you one great thing about the job I'm going back to: I never once felt like I wasn't valued. Say what you will about employers, but if you work for someone who makes you feel like you're a vital cog in the wheel every single day, then you really need to count your blessings.

In a lot of ways, I'm not unique from most people -- I can have phases where I lapse into apathy and take things for granted. I'm certain I did that with my old job. When I got that job, I was still reeling from my mother's death. It was a pretty open wound at the time, and I began there as a pretty shattered person. With time, I began to feel like my presence mattered, and I know that I have changed a tremendous amount over the years, though I have a hell of a long ways to go, but it was all happening under their roof. I cannot and will not underestimate what that job did for me psychologically. When you're in an environment that makes you feel you matter, that makes you want to be a better person and a better employee, well, it's a lucky thing you're you.

Still, I grew tired of it. I ate the asphalt and nearly died in that stupid accident of mine, and I began having all those "I'm 31 and look at where I am" moments of doubt and anxiety, and I blamed it on the job. I forgot one very essential thing: There is no right job for me. I know what I want to achieve in life, and working for others isn't part of the plan, but until I can do what I want, I need a solid job that doesn't take a lot out of me creatively. I live a disruptive life, so being in an environment that has a lot of routine now seems to be the best choice in order for me to achieve what I want outside of work. I didn't really realize that before now.

Now I've had a pretty rude reminder about what nasty workplaces are like and I appreciate better than ever the environment I spent most of the last decade in. Nothing like reminders, huh?

Six years to the DAY that I was hired, I lost the other job and got welcomed back (albeit for an unknown length of time, but still!). If that's not fucking weird, then I don't know what is. I started there Sept 25th, 2000. My birthday was on that Friday night, the 29th, and I went home after only four days of work with one of the largest, most beautiful bouquets of flowers I've ever seen. I still remember the busride home and everyone sneaking peeks at the flowers. It was fun.

Amazing what can go down in six years. I live a fucking wired life, man -- up and down and all around, all the time. I live the roller coaster. But I'll tell you... it's the ride of a lifetime.

Some days, it's really fucking cool being me.