A week ago yesterday I was let go from my corporate job of almost 12 years. The initial shock wore off and I began formulating plans of how not to return to corporate America. If it means technically holding 5 or 6 jobs, then so be it.
But here, in the quiet of the late night/early morning hours, when I find I'm exhausted but still can't sleep, doubt creeps in like a kitten ready to play with the ball of yarn that used to be my brain. Smoke another cigarette, click on another website (again), nothing new, move on.
Don't dwell on what's happened. You fucked up, you got caught. Pack up, turn the page, move on.
Rejoice in that lack of restrictive co-worker/manager relationship and now, for those interested, pure friendship can begin. There is no more "off limits." Politics? Religion? Sex? Fuck it. It's all ON, babycakes. Or maybe just the sex. There were more than one that... but no... never date or fuck a coworker, even if they're in another building. But remove that wall...
But no. It's past, it's gone, move on.
To paraphrase Miss Chi-Chi Rodriguez, "I got a million dreams for every light on Broadway. When one of them goes out I just screw in another one, you know, hello good-bye."
Part of the plan is to find others who can believe in me and what I can do. And there's a lot I can do. But the questions - OH the questions! How much? And When? What will make it Happen? What's first? What's after that? Who's on first? Third base!
Ah, the classics. And trying to be classic while adopting the new; trying to become hip when you're classically not so but convincing others that the illusion is the reality. Which flips my ball of yarn over to Charles Pierce's classic closing number:
What am I? An illusion
Slightly used, second hand
Such romantic illusions
Reaching high, built on sand
They have a touch of paradise
A spell you can't explain
For in this crazy kind of paradise
You are in love again
What am I? an illusion
Slightly used, just like new
Such romantic illusions
They were done, now they're through
We played them all for laughs
It was strictly entre nous
So take an illusion
All for fun
And all just for you
Ah, Charles, who gave me my signature line: "If you can't be yourself, why be anything at all?" Not directly, you understand. The man's been dead for many years.
He moved on.
Time to be myself. Time to move on.
More importantly, I think it's time for bed...
Song Of The Day
1 year ago