Good Evening, Morning or Afternoon my fellow inhabitants of this side of the proverbial wormhole of existence. Did you miss me? Probably not. Regardless of whether you did or did not the bottom line is this: I’m back. Things have been a bit hectic these last few weeks and admittedly? Writing–whether it be something simple like a blog entry or something complex like CHILDREN OF ENDWORLD–has been the furthest thing from my mind. But if history has taught me anything, it has taught me that you can only stop something that you love doing for so long. There comes a point where you just have to, for lack of a better phrase, hop back on the horse named “Tucker” (thank you, Cara) and GO. Whether this “quick hit” exemplifies me getting back on the horse or not remains to be seen but for now? It’s a beginning. And lately? I’ve been focusing too much on endings.
Let me take a “tick” and bring you up to speed: A bit over three weeks ago, I was laid off and have been unemployed since. I have not publicized this for a couple of reasons. The first? I’m not a fan of feeling sorry for myself nor of asking people to feel sorry for me. Said lay off was purely a business decision and I bear my former employer no ill will. I’ve been managing “stuff” for almost 20 years now and when times get tough–as they are now and have been for a while–you need to make cuts. I was the highest paid person with the lowest tenure in my office. It had to happen. I enjoyed my eight plus years with that company and admittedly? There is a little hole in my heart where once existed the letters “AFS.” I miss my customers and many of my co-workers. If any of them are reading this right now let me simply say this: Booyakasha. RESPECT. Thank you, all. I will never forget you. Hit me up sometime. My digits are REMOVED FROM THIS POST FOR FEAR OF THEM BEING ABUSED BY LESS SCRUPULOUS TYPES OR CARNIES. Sh*t, Carnies freak me out.
The second? Everyone’s got problems, and mine are no larger than theirs… yours if you’re reading this. My situation is really not that bad. If anything, these last couple of weeks have given me the opportunity to really think at length about what I want to do with the rest of my life on this side of the proverbial wormhole of existence, however long the almighty has deemed that life to be thanks largely in part to a wife who has been endlessly supportive of my plight. Booyakasha, Nicole, AKA Sweetie: Respect. And much love, dawg (winky emoticon, smiley face). I’ve been able to spend a lot more time with her and my little’uns and it’s been wonderful. I’ve managed to “knock out” a number of projects that I’ve been meaning on “knocking out” for, in some cases, years, and though I still haven’t cleaned out my garage or repainted my garish, yellow bathroom, there still may be time. Though something tells me that my days on the unemployment line may soon be coming to a close. My goal when this happened was to find something by Thanksgiving and as of this moment? I may have. I’ll hopefully know more in the next few days. That said, I likely just jinxed myself. F*ck. I’ve only myself to blame, really. And Carnies. And the Rogue. Always blame the Rogue (Booyakasha, Tommy: RESPECT).
I knew early on that the key for me (this may not be the case for others reading this and if it is not I apologize in advance) was to find something that both A.) Played to my strengths and that B.) I felt comfortable doing. Early on, I mainly looked at jobs with a heavy sales component ’cause outside of writing–which I think I’m pretty good at though others, namely the Troll that bashed my novel on Amazon, don’t–I’m a pretty good salesman. I’ve been doing it for a while, now. I should be. If I wasn’t, someone would have told me long before now. And it runs in my family: Both my mother and my Biological worked in sales for the longest time… woah, woah, woah: For the longest time. I’m a better writer but as much as I want there to be one, there isn’t a career in that for me. Yet. Maybe one day but as of right now? It’s little more than a hobby/a part time, supplemental income. But I’m still hopeful. CHILDREN = 75% done despite a bit of a pregnant pause in the process. And it’s good, guys. Better than the first one. Cross my heart. Still coming in 2014. Stay tuned.
As time progressed, though, and I went through a couple dozen job postings and a few interviews I realized something pretty important: I don’t want to be JUST a salesman. Willy Loman I ain’t (poor usage of the English language completely intended). I want… I NEED a people component, as well. Whether said component is a managerial one or simply a B2B/B2C (that’s “Business to Business” and “Business to Consumer” for the un-initiated or gainfully employed) one I need to work with people. I like people and for the most part, I think people like me. So I started branching out: Looking at admissions and recruitment positions, as well. And low and behold, I MAY have keyed on one though only time, namely the next few days will tell. We shall see. I’m optimistic. Hopefully they are, too. And hopefully the Carnies stay the hell away. SHIVER.
In short? I decided what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. At 38. How f’*cked up is that? Most people go through this in their 20’s. Me? I was on a career path throughout them albeit a slightly suicidal career path with CVSStress that likely would have ended with me either A.) In the grave or B.) Running a District by now. I walked away from that job of my own volition because I was about to get married and I didn’t think working 65-70 hours a week was conducive to starting a life and a family with someone. I found AFS and for eight plus years, AFS allowed me to build a life and a family, embrace my inner Willy Loman and publish a novel. But… and here’s where one or two (or a dozen) of you might disagree with me: I believe in the “D” word. No, not “doo-doo” though Smallish Bear WAS kind enough to bless me with a bit of a Poop-pocalypse pre-her bedtime tonight. Booyakasha, Natalie: RESPECT.
Destiny, guys. Fate. I believe that we all have one. Whether you feel the same or believe that our lives are not pre-determined but are 100% a product of the decisions that we make is up to you. Me, personally? I think the almighty, otherwise known as God, “The Big Guy” et al has a set-ending for each of us. How we get there is up to us, i.e. “Free Will.” It’s like writing a novel. You generally know how the story begins and you know how it ends but how you get there is constantly in flux. Adaptability is KEY. THE key, really, to life, the universe and everything. Me? I’ve always been adaptable. It’s something deep down within me in a place that I don’t like to talk about at parties (but obviously have no problem writing about for the entire gul’darned world to see). I adapted to Retail despite my wanting to be a writer, and I adapted to Engineering despite my wanting to be a writer/my familiarity with Retail. Now? I am ready to once again adapt to something new. A new field, if you will, and… fingers crossed… I WILL HAVE that opportunity. I certainly hope it’s my last one ’cause really: I’m 38 years old. I’m far from “old” though I’m not exactly a little’un, anymore. Whatever I do from now until the proverbial lights go down on me? I want it to be IT. The last thing I do outside of writing and publishing which, let’s face it, I will ALWAYS be doing.
In closing (only a “quick hit,” guys: Sorry; maybe I’ll write more in the next few days), these last three weeks have been… interesting, to say the least. Between applying for jobs, making follow-up inquiries, going on interviews, picking away at CHILDREN, doing laundry and yard work, “de-cluttering” my house, teaching myself how to bake, occasionally bringing my wife lunch on the days she is working, working on Cara’s letters with her when she’s home and teaching Natalie how to be a better pro-wrestler (she’s pretty much nailed the Frog Splash and is currently working on what I like to call her “Zombie Claw”) I’ve had the opportunity to do something I’ve been rarely able to do in my 38 year life on this side of the proverbial wormhole of existence:
Live. ‘Cause oft times, life gets in the way of that. Carnies, too. And the Rogue. That gul’darned, troublesome Rogue.
To be continued, friends. G’night.
Random Musings of a Pseudo-Madman, Version 2.0 