parting is such sweet...

LAST DAY! LAST DAY!

Yeah, so here I am sitting at my desk. Have the few photos and knicknacks I'd accumulated over my 13 months in a pile, along with copies of the books I worked on while I'm here. It's not much to look at.

There's not much for me to do today. I've already written out everything I need to pass on to my boss. I've organized my computer so at the end of the day I can delete all my emails, chat logs, and the few "non-official" programs I installed while I was here. My iTunes folder is already emptied.

What I do need to do is find the files for the books I helped design and make hi-res files of a few spreads for my book. Who knows when or if I'll need them. I hope that the New Gig turns out to be long long term. But who's to say? I do still plan to write, and maybe that'll happen for me. Maybe we'll move to L.A. Maybe I'll find something else I'd like to do better. Maybe I'm not management material. Who the hell knows. I would have never predicted when I left Avalon in November of 2005 that in 18 months I'd be starting a Art Director gig at a major publisher -- in New Jersey -- and that our first daughter would be kicking and preparing to come out and turn our lives upside down.

They're throwing me a "pizza party" as a goodbye which is ... really nice. It's not an exaggeration to say that this is the first place I've ever felt I left on good terms. So, I'm hoping that this job, much like the relationship I had before getting back together with Amy has been a good learning experience and one that heralds a kind of emergence of a slightly more mature and reasonable me.

Don't get me wrong -- I'm still a pain in the ass to live with and have my moments, that's for damned sure -- but something good happened to me when that relationship ended. I came to a realization that endings didn't have to be ugly and that if you can come out the other side without lighting yourself or the other person on fire and running away screaming... it's much nicer. Rachel and I parted as adults, and it opened my eyes to how poorly I'd treated Amy at the end. And that was part of the beginning of us getting back together.

Anyway, blah blah blah... me me me... it's an ending day, and a new beginning day. The pizza party makes me nervous, being the center of attention. I'll feel pressure to be witty and charming and funny. Maybe I'll pull it off. Seriously? I hope I don't tear up. I'm unaccustomed to groups being nice to me. I can handle it one-on-one with Amy, and with people I am close to, but casual friendships that are temporarily heightened make me nervous. I don't have programming to handle it. And yet, I really appreciate the hell out of it.

Okay. Off to do a little more work.

standing up

Told my current-soon-to-be-ex-boss that I couldn't couldn't come in next week. I'd been stressing about it all weekend long. Tried to talk myself down from the stress by telling myself that there's no reason to worry or care about what she says or does any longer. I'm here for five more days and then adios muchacha!

But that combination of feeling like I owe people something due to proximity and history, plus my dislike of making any kind of personal request made it more like climbing an emotional mountain than stepping over a mole hill. I kept backing off in my mind, thinking I could come in for one day instead of the three she asked for. Then two. Then I'd think ... "Aw, just do it. Help out."

But I want that week. I want a week to go to the gym every single day and to start to gear up for this next challenge. I want some time with myself to clear my head and to let the remnants of the voice of my current condescending and uncaring boss fade.

So, I did it. Told her I couldn't come in next week. Stood up. I'm slightly proud of myself.

you can't always get what you want. and then you do.

Well, as I think everyone who reads this blog knows... I got the job. I start on the 23rd.

I quit on Monday. It wasn't as exciting as I'd hoped. My boss took it pretty well, although she did get a gratifyingly stricken look on her face. She surprised me by asking me to stay three more days. I stammered and said I'd look into it. I tacitly agreed, and now I'm trying to figure out how to back out of it. I think I will end up working two days into the week I wanted to take off. Ah well. It will be helpful — and I'd said that I would stay slightly longer if they needed me. Stupid me.

So, I'm going to have a real J.O.B. I'm actually getting one of the things I constantly worry about:

1. What am I going to do for work in the future?
2. What do I want to do with my writing?
3. How can I lose weight?

It's good that I'm dealing with the first item, since a new item:

4. How can I be a good father?

has taken over most of my peanut-sized brain.

But seriously folks. Now what? I'm getting a job that could end up being a good long-term situation that really won't impinge on my ability to do other things. (It's a strict 9-to-5-er that apparently has overtime about as often as I do my taxes -- that is to say: once every couple of years.) So, of course, now I'm freaking out a little bit about whether I'm up to the job.

I've never managed people before. I have a pretty tenuous grasp on managing myself. This is only MOSTLY a joke. I do get my work done on time and I do work quickly. I am not, however, a go-getter. For instance, it's 10:20 in the a.m. and all I've done this morning is check my emails, cruise a few websites, and write this.

- - -

Almost five hours later and I've done very little work. I know that I'm going to get some pointed looks and a sour face from my boss, but I have a hard time caring. There's really not much for me to do. I will probably leave soon.

I've lost all the steam that I had this morning when I began posting. The point of the whole thing was that I'm still in a place of "now what?" and still not sure what I want to do with my life. Plus, I'm confronted by the fears of failing at the thing that I've been somewhat hoping for. (Only somewhat because, really, it's the writing part of my life that I've hung most of my self on for the longest time. I still don't know what I'm going to do with it. I still haven't figured anything out. I still lay in bed at night thinking about writing ideas. And I still do nothing about them.)

This is not in any way to counteract the excitement at starting a new job. And at leaving one on good terms, as well. This is the first job that I've left where I felt like I'd done good while I was there and that people would, in fact, miss me. It's encouraging as I move forward and take on a more... shall we say adult role in the workplace, as well as at home.

It's just fucking scary is all.