"Clair de Lune" Debussy

We were driving back in my car and he said, "Well you have changed over the last couple of months. You seem to have lost confidence..." and this was followed by more words and other words and then some phonemes and then some utterances and then lights around me changed. The bright beams from onward facing economy vehicles streaked. The 24-hour laundromat with its beams of fluorescent lights blurred and pulsed like a cataract in its advanced stages.

"Well, I hope you understand why I might lose confidence," I said.

The absence of to-do lists, the seeming ebb of my social flow, the waning of a once unremitting energy to get on with it. Accidental naps. There were symptoms strewn throughout the last couple of months. In my mind, it was a mental break from a rigidity so ingrained it woke me up with robotic precision--1-2 minutes everyday before my alarm clock. Each entry into the front door trigger a sequence of rushed and efficient movements to accomplish the next task or three. Cook rice while lifting weights. Stick in the second load right before leaving for drinks. I was so efficient and so productive.

And today, I, well, I bought discount dress shoes and asked the lovely girl to help find me a matching belt.

"Well this one is too dark for sure," she said. "And this stitching here is white, but on the shoe it's dark--like a chocolate or black."

We walked over to the mirror and she insisted I put both shoes on and look for myself. She had identified a broad Kenneth Cole belt the color of burnt applie pie crust.

"Hmm, wait a second," I said. "The shoes are shiny, and the belt isn't--"

"--Yeah, I was just going to mention that."

"OK, so would you let your boyfriend wear this combination?"

She said she would. And so tomorrow, these two heavily discounted items will be matched with newly drycleaned clothes at an interview in Santa Monica. The position was one I did not specifically seek. I had interviewed with this company months ago, and accepted a position. I had to renege on that offer due to an urgent knee surgery that would've prohibited my starting that or any job. Two days ago, I sent an email to the CIO--with whom I interviewed--reminding him of our conversation and the offer. The following day, I received an email invitation from one of his IT Directors to discuss "opportunities."

(I'm really sleepy and this story is about a fifth done. So imagine the rest, which would've included going back to confidence, dressing the part, faking it until making it, and tons of great jokes.)

"A Sorta Fairytale" Tori Amos

I was laid off.

I have known for some time that I am a capable of envisioning situations play out in a multitude of ways. I have come to realize much more recently that I am particularly gifted in imagining worst case scenarios. Give me an object, a setting, a timeframe and a person and I'll show you how these factors can collude to create a blackhole.

The very beginnings of my vortex came from the massive financial collapse. This initial rupture began late last year, when a company-wide memo exposed our vulnerability and declared the inevitability of layoffs. Add to that my relative inexperience as a manager--I am consistently the youngest, most inexperienced one in the room. Add to that a convergence of groups similar to mine, and the collision of employees with overlapping responsibilities. I was pushed beyond the event horizion when those well above me decided to replace me with two seasoned managers with many more years of proven experience.

In juggling all of these factors, I did foresee my getting the call from HR. But I had also put this thought into a special bucket of worst-case scenarios--along with contracting herpes when opening my mailbox, having an elephant fall out of the sky to squish me, getting a call from my alma mater that a clerical error somehow invalidates my diploma--that is, those that were unlikely to occur. I had seen it, but I didn't see it coming. And when I got that call to come into a conference room with HR and my director, I felt like I was socked in the stomach. Indeed, it felt like there was a strong force sucking my insides into another dimension.

I came out of that room a mess, sobbing and unable to control myself. And I joined the hundreds of others in my company during that two-week period who had devoted so much of themselves into roles and relationships that disappeared as quickly and as unceremoniously as a blackhole devours everything within its radial pull. The remainder of that day is a blur. I packed Christmas photos of my department, birthday cards that play music when opened, a handful of keychains from coworkers' vacations--fake sushi from Tokyo, a gilded elephant from Thailand, and what seems like a traditional Korean family crest made from woven string. Those that I work with--normaly a bunch of foul-mouthed sarcastic goons--had swollen faces and red eyes. They expressed sadness and compassion with bitterness at the company and firm handshakes that lasted longer than they normally would have. That day in the office was a funeral. Almost 200 lost their jobs during that day alone from that one branch. Almost a 1000 lost their jobs in the surrounding days.

"Mariposa Traicionera" by Mana

This is my last free weekday. I guess I'm ready to go to work. I have to keep reminding myself that while this may signal the end of my wandering days, it does not mean my travels will stop. I get 18 days a year of vacation, but I have to accumulate them. This means that by this time next year I'll have enough to go back to the Middle East! Land in Egypt, bus to Sinai, boat to Jordan and then dick around that country for a bit, then cross the border to Israel and see why all the fighting and then fly out of Tel Aviv! I've met many Israelis on the road and I hate all but two. Because a lot of them have just finished their compulsory military service, they've got a lot of pent up energy, which comes out as aggression. Plus, their history (of surviving as a self-sustained state completely surrounded by neighbors that want to get rid of them) makes them very defensive and proud. So I'd like to see what Israelis in Israel are like. The food's supposed to be great.

OK time for breakfast.

Today's tasks
1. Mail J. three CDs: "Music" by Stars and two mixed CDs
2. Pay $35 parking ticket by phone
3. See if S. wants to have lunch
4. Buy a messenger bag
5. Return overdue book to the library.

"Did It" by Academy

So this is the beginning of my last week as a slacker. My last day of full-time employment was March 22nd, 2004. That feels like a lifetime ago. These are the things I'd like to accomplish to properly say farewell to one lifestyle and usher in the next:

BODY
1. Buy 4 pants, making sure they fit the crotch properly, may need alteration
2. Buy 5 shirts, making sure they fit the shoulders properly
3. Buy yuppie messenger bag (for newspaper crossword puzzle, library book, organizer)
4. Buy socks, maybe dark gray, black
5. Consider buying a yoga pass: $300 for 30 sessions, to be used within a year
6. Work out and shower vigorously, wanting to exude: Young, healthy and alert
7. Eat healthfully: good chunks of chicken, carrot juice, blueberries, salmon, wheat-bran-dates-raisins-almond-type cereal with soy milk, jugs of room-temperature water
8. Set alarm clock at 6am

BOOK
1. Revise the remaining 4 chapters
2. Continue to send email to (harass) the San Francisco and NYC agents. "Do you like what I've written? Do you think there's a market? Do you think I'm sexy? Will you buy me dinner?"
3. Set a reasonable deadline for sending out proposals: Maybe give it 'til the end of the year to get an agent and if not, then pat myself on the back for doing my best

BRAIN
1. Look into Traditional and ROTH IRAs
2. Decide when to die, as that will determine investment strategies

"Bila Engkau" by Flanella

This blog ends August 15th.

I got the job.

Sure I'm excited. I'm also a bit sad.

In Buddhist philosophy the first 25 years of life should be dedicated to learning and experiencing all sorts of things. The next phase is about creating stability for yourself. I read this a long time ago, probably sometime in high school or college, and always kept that in the back of my mind. I'm sad that this phase has only a week left. But I've also gotten the chance to see and learn a lot of things. I feel lucky about that, so I guess it's OK.

"Obscurity Knocks" by Trash Can Sinatras

I got published on Boots 'N' All a story about Varanasi, which is the filthiest city in the entire world. It also happens to be one of the holiest cities in the entire world. I thought about naming the chapter "Holy Shit" (because there is cow shit everywhere) but reconsidered due to the ever-growing Hindu population. I also love the city:

Despite the fever, the pollution, the noise, the shit, the unrelenting force of touts and beggars outside my hotel, there was something about Varanasi that kept a fat kid's smile on my face. There is no good reason for anybody to like this place and yet Varanasi's improbable charm--its intangible secrets--draws travelers in and keeps them from leaving.

Earlier this week I got an email from a lady asking for travel advice about India in light of the monsoon that hit Bombay. I told her not to go, to spend the money on a big TV instead and on ordering pizza every Friday for the remainder of the year. This morning, I got my first legitimate fanmail from somebody named Abhishek:

I read your story on bootsnall, it was interesting and caputured my attention for the span - as it was quite a long story.

What kind of underhanded compliment is this? "Dear Mr. Long-Winded & Unskilled, I really expected to be bored by your story, but I managed to survive the read." Throw me a bone, Abhishek. And while my sense of pithiness was lacking, my ability to tell apart the two sexes was apparently worse:

...Also a small gender error you have made below about the sacred and holy Cow - A cow is never a male - it's always female and thus always SHE - you have repeatedly referred to the Cow as HE!!..

Abhishek

I can tell from Abhishek's peculiar English (mainly his reliance on the present perfect tense mixed in with the highfalutin "thus") that he, or she, is probably one of these rich-for-a-third-world-country Indians who are intensely proud and protective of their country. Respect. Thanks for the email.

"Breathe (2am)" by Anna Nalick

Breathe is something I can't do at the moment. HR Lady is calling my references and my stomach is in knots and I last felt like this:

1) Lining up to take the Teen Jeopardy test with hundreds of kids.
2) Flying from Heathrow to Athens knowing that I'd have to figure out the city at 3am.
3) Preparing for my scholarship/film school interview at USC, knowing the 30 min talk could very well determine my entire life.
4) Worrying that somebody was pregnant and it was probably my fault.
5) Knowing that no matter what I did, I was going to be threatened and scammed out of money crossing the border from Ecuador to Peru.
6) Trying to sleep for the first time in my apartment at USC and wondering if the neighborhood was as dangerous as people had said.

I'm very nervous right now but I'm secretly enjoying these ripe sensations.