To be high on yourself/Blindly running into the new
Oh my, how things have changed since I last wrote.
After a less than satisfactory conversation with my boss-to-be in Illinois wherein she made it quite clear that she was unwillingly shoehorning me into her staff, and upon further reflection, the idea of moving to that store seemed pretty much like a nightmare. A really good alternate plan to keep Michael, Marta and I together was derailed almost as quickly as it was conceived. It was more stressful, I think, than never having had the plan at all. And so the week came to an end with me feeling anxious and panicked about the future.
Friday night I pushed down all those feelings and did actually enjoy myself at the Royale, DJing out on the patio. Saturday dawned (literally; I couldn't sleep) as the same old same old. I woke with a tight knot in my stomach and a tension I couldn't ignore any longer. Springing it on him out of nowhere, I blurted out to Steve that I needed to quit my job and that I would do what I needed to do to make sure we could pay for our insurance, etc. He was dubious at first (and may still be) but he agreed and I felt the first inklings of relief. Next I had to ask for some safety net money from a third party and that wasn't quite as easy as I'd hoped, but it wasn't terrible.
Knowing I was working with the boss the next morning, I had to deliver the news. As it was, I'd only be giving one week's notice which bothered me, but it couldn't be helped. (And did I mention that at this point I was swallowing the L-Theanines like candy?) I'm not used to quitting jobs -- I've only quit two, really, and only one as a bonafide adult. Surprisingly, he took it quite well, quite impassively, almost as if he was expecting it.
It took about half of the workday Sunday before I felt the weight start to lift off my shoulders, but lift it did and the giddiness ensued. I can't tell you how I'm looking forward to not being exhausted and achy and full of mysterious cuts and bruises (there are lots of sharp edges in that store) at the end of every day. I can't wait to cook something elaborate. I can't wait to sleep past 4am. I can't wait for my artist side to come back to me.
And otherwise in my life, the theme of transition seems to be pervasive. Relationships are shifting and changing, new alliances are forming and, mostly, all seems well. The radio show is going well; I'm very energized by it and loving music again.
But one more 4am wake up call awaits me tomorrow and Friday holds an eight hour workday. After that? I'm one free motherfrakker.