Reality Cheque

"And you may find yourself living in a shotgun shack
And you may find yourself in another part of the world
And you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile
And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful
Wife
And you may ask yourself-well...how did I get here?"

— Talking Heads / Once in a Lifetime

The Alarm went off everyday at 7:00 a.m. on the dot. Well, it did until the cat threw up on it, but before that the clock was as regular as, well, its namesake. The cat's digestive issues might have been a blessing in disguise, because quite frankly it was getting to me. I wouldn't go through the motions enough to turn it off, or change it. It was just a constant reminder that the repetition that I lived by for the last seven years was no longer part of my routine.

No longer was I getting up at 7:00 a.m. and scrambling out of bed, turning the thing off as a pre-cursor to hitting the shower, putting on clothes, taking out the dog, getting in the car, listening to my obnoxious music that no one else seems to like, sitting in traffic, pulling into my office parking spot, sitting in the car for several minutes working up the strength to drag myself inside anymore...

No, now the routine was to wake up, scramble out of bed, and turn the thing off.

Then I'd stand there, take a deep breath, and wonder why I'd set the thing at all.

Fast-forward one week.

My internal clock is still a jerk. It wakes me up around 8 a.m., letting me know it's time to go do things, and the current thing is let my beard grow and to feel sorry for myself.

My wife, in an effort to make me feel better, let's me know that the dog sure is happy that I'm home more. I look over at the dog and her face tells me that she is happy. Or perhaps, hot and thirsty. I like to be an optimist but I go and fill her water dish just to be on the safe side.

Boom. Internal clock. 8:22 a.m.

Boom. Internal clock. 8:31 a.m.

Boom. Internal clock. 8:16 a.m.

"Letting the days go by/let the water hold me down
Letting the days go by/water flowing underground
Into the blue again/after the moneys gone
Once in a lifetime/water flowing underground."

— Talking Heads / Once in a Lifetime

Boom. Internal clock. 7:45 a.m.

Boom. Internal clock. 8:07 a.m.

Boom. Internal clock. 7:51 a.m.

The one thing going in my head every day that nothing is happening except me talking to others that do have jobs about how I feel that my having been let go is unfair, unjust, and just flat out bull shit is nothing.

I read about Ponzi schemes online and wonder where Bernie Madoff screwed up, and wonder how he did as much damage as he did without getting caught earlier. I forget what I was thinking about minutes later. I mentally make the perfect peanut butter, jelly and banana sandwich. I realistically find that I am short two of the four ingredients. I stare at the wall. I wonder who's idea it was to make a print of the wallpaper that is in my bathroom, which came with the house, and who okayed that, much less bought it.

I envision grandiose building projects in my house and remember shortly thereafter that I have none of the requisite skills or tools to even begin a fraction of what I'm imagining. (This is a continuing theme.)

I trade in a present that would have been great for whenever I went "on the road" for business for something that will be great for when I am sitting at home, looking for something to do besides read want ads that I am "Overqualified" for.

Several hours are spent with the object of my trading, exploring The Capital Wasteland of Fallout 3 trying to find my "father", and bottlecaps (the currency of the day), and violently painting the walls of buildings I have been inside in Washington D.C. in real life with the pixelated blood, and brains, and viscera of the large, green, not entirely domesticated "Super-Mutants" of my current virtual reality.

The dog will show up occasionally, and let me know she would like to go outdoors, and I defer, mostly because I love her, and partly because I understand muscular atrophy and would like to avoid it.

It is usually out in the elements that I come to tiny epiphanies that will take hold or will be as easily forgotten as they came to me. I'll be watching the dog, prancing around, making #1 with haste, but then...then comes the interesting part. She will go in circles. She will smell every tree, branch, flower, tire on a parked car, you name it. She must find the perfect place for her...deposit. Not just anywhere will do. Oh, no, sir. This is an art.

Eventually, a suitable location is found. A stake is claimed. Now, she owns it.

Again, getting the happy look on her face that could either be happiness or possible dehydration, she prances towards and then past me, and onto the steps of our home. I will let her inside and she will be very happy that she did exactly what she went out to do and that she didn't compromise on what she did or where and how she did it.

*Ding!* Epiphany.

Of sorts.

I will be the first to admit that occasionally, one of the many people who are giving me advice, be it solicited or unsolicited, will bring up a potential job solution that I scrunch my nose at and think "No way! I'm too good for that." I will admit that I feel like a complete asshole for even thinking that. I am humble creature. Lately, more often than not. But I also understand what I can bring to the table, and what I can do on any sort of project that I work on. With that being said, with my skill set, and how long I've been doing it, I still react badly to the suggestion that I do something entry-level.

I look back on my previous occupation and I can see it with some objectivity now in the rearview mirror. I liked most of the people I worked with. I liked the perks that came with it occasionally. I had fun many, many times. But was I happy?

In a word: No.

I liked the paycheck. Period.

Now that that's gone, I look at what I was doing and think to myself... there is no way I would do any of that now. It doesn't make me happy. I look at the dog, and her reaction to befouling my backyard and she is more than content. She is mere inches from blissful. She did exactly what she wanted.

Myself, on the other hand. I'm not anywhere closer to figuring out the job situation for the future, but I am much closer to figuring out what makes me happy now.

I'm away from people that stressed me out through terrible communication. I'm long gone from situations that made my hair turn grey before I was 30. I don't have to sit in useless meetings with people not fit to run useless meetings. I'm nowhere close to a "Yes Man." My wife will say "No" just to let me remember that.

I realize it is not wise to work for other people. Other people will do nothing to make you happy. It's not their job. Their job is "really important" but when life is over, and the gravestones are etched it's not going to say "DID THE MOST PAPERWORK." or "FILLED OUT HIS TIMESHEET PROMPTLY."

So, I am no longer working for people. People, who have screwed me over more times than not. People, who aren't concerned about the big picture, only petty details that will be long forgotten years from now.

I don't work for people. I work for money.

I am waking up every day around 8:00 a.m. It is later than I used to rise, and I like that.

The musician Warren Zevon, in the weeks leading up to his death from cancer, was asked for any advice he had for those of us staying on this good Earth, and he said "Enjoy every sandwich."

I'm enjoying every sandwich, and the pets that make me laugh and most importantly, the love of my Wife. She just gets me.

I will find my spot soon enough.

"Same as it ever was...same as it ever was...same as it ever was...
Same as it ever was...same as it ever was...same as it ever was...
Same as it ever was...same as it ever was..."

— Talking Heads / Once in a Lifetime