Or: How I Abuse Alliteration
So, I lost my job last Wednesday (May 4th, May the 4th be with you; it certainly wasn’t with me). Where I am now, it’s approximately 3:29 this Monday “morning” and I am feeling ill, not just because I came down with a truly terrible tonsilitis-like illness the same day I lost my position at work, but because I think the pizza I ate hours ago was not fit for even conspicuous consumption. I should be working on a paper for my independent studies course, but I can’t bring myself to muster any enthusiasm, nevermind it’s overdue a week. To my left is also a letter (buried beneath paper printouts of philosophical articles), one from a penpal that is overdue by a month at this point. All things considered–so much considerable considerations and minding ministrations–I’ve been a wreck, a reasonable wreck, but a wreck nonetheless, for the last four and a half days.
What do I do now? Thankfully, it was a singular lay off that ended my service with my previous employer. When I say “singular lay off” I mean that a lay off only happened in the singular and it was my singular removal from the firm, cutting cost by cutting curiously a single employee. The truth of the matter was that my office wasn’t generating enough in commissions by the financial advisors to justify three sales assistants in the office. So, I was let go because it was easiest to be rid of me versus anyone else. Given the state of the economy and the stock market, it might even be thought of as expected.
This was not the first forays into disappointments of the year, considering the big deaths of favorite celebrities and, more personally, a blatent blow off by someone I suppose turned out to be no friend at all. Saving the rant for another time, Tony never wrote me back and he probably never will. I will carefully excuse the demoness that riles for retribution with gentle gibberish, fanciful fantasies of never having bared one’s soul and heart to a person whose friendship did not last, I realize, beyond my first flight into Philosophy. (This is why, my friends, nihilistic and existentialist philosophies certainly speak to all manners of people.)
But that is rubbish! So much of this year has also been fantastic. I’ve reconnected with friends long thought lost and I’ve begun writing a (couple of) novel(s). No reason to feel down just yet. So, the question remains, what to do? As you can tell, I’ve rather foregone fighting for Philo-so-phy, at least as I have abandoned any ambitions into delving or making a mark in the field in the “traditional” and contemporary sense. No writing essays for me that aren’t for whatever ethics course I seem to find myself (fun note: I’ve accidentally taken Ethics twice at two different universities, both with very decent grades). I have decided, finally, to write for a living, not just this pasttime that I’ve sneaked in to every moment and every facet of my existence. Novelist seems fanciful, fantastic even, but I cannot help but think the loss of my employment with a substantial severence means that, perhaps, I should spend these next few months really delving into the storytelling I’ve always been proud of. And no, I don’t mean the LARP kind of stories (oh yeah, I larp and I’m not afraid to admit that). I mean, creating stories for others to read, to enjoy, to add to their pleasures and particular pasttimes.
So, here I am, debating whether to genuinely try to find another employer or to stick it out and live the dream I’ve been trying to push for my entire life. I guess the question really should be: why not? Let us see what the sunrise brings.