Diary Of A Layoff/Post Seven

Mind-fuck phase two… three… four? Today marks the beginning of my final week at the job. Three days remaining on payroll. More than anything, I am mentally exhausted and just ready for this to be over.

I was up writing my final feature until 1 a.m. this morning. 2,000 words for Radio & Records about DJ blogs. Usually the process of long-form writing involves crafting my storytelling until it’s wrapped, then leaning back with a satisfied smirk, then heading to bed by the light of the moon with a feeling of accomplishment. This was more a cursory exercise, as I literally checked the word count time and again until I reached a satisfying climax, then tacked on a final quote. Done.

Second, and the more dominant emotion here: When I walked in the office this morning and saw my cubicle—which I snapped a pic of in a previous post—I was taken aback. At this point, there is nary a sign I ever existed, and I was smacked with a wall of emotion. It’s really over. This is the finale. well, shit, how about that?

My attitude has been so positive and forward-thinking and I suppose I neglected to recognize the here and now might be tougher than I imagined. My editor P must have recognized I was feeling a heave of emotion; he asked, “How are you doing?” and I told him today was tough. Sadness. These 14 years represent nearly a third of my life. Obviously, tossing that into the wind isn’t possible without some sentimental pushback.

Tomorrow I am in production for the final time, then comes my party at Central Bar. I am anticipating 50+ friends, co-workers, allies and artists, which I am hoping will be quite a throw-down celebration. Hopefully that will restore the positive… then Wednesday, I will likely edit some final R&R buffoonery and at last, turn the page, then hopefully take a full month off to process. With a great deal of luck on my side, the next decade-plus will be as fulfilling.