Sometimes things happen to us and when they happen at first, we don't really know what to do with ourselves because we've been doing that same thing for so long, that every day seems like the same routine place, and we know everybody, and everybody knows us, and we get comfortable, and we slack off, while trying to look like we still give a shit, and most days we do, but then there are days where you just feel like your soul is being sucked out of you, or already has been, and you feel completely dead in every way. You know you should try something else, something that will make you feel the excitement of being like you were on that very first day, but you don't know where to start because every day when you get home, you are so goddamn tired, you would rather just cook yourself some dinner and watch the Jersey Shore marathon of season one on MTV2. And you do. Oh boy do you ever watch the shit out of some cable, and drink 1-2 bottles of wine a night by yourself, and you think, while you crack open that second bottle, "man, this really is the worst. My life really is a fucking joke." You drink more wine, pass out, wake up the next day, and lather, rinse and repeat. Propped up in a corner next to your bed is a graduate course catalogue that you've been staring at every single day since it arrived in the mail three years ago. Notebooks of blabber jabber and art magazines and things that you used to really love to do and see and listen to are collecting dust and cat hair and glitter shards. Books and movies and people talking about things you like to talk about, but you feel like you can't because you've been out of it for so long, you don't remember where you left off.
Every fucking day was the same unti this day. I lost my job today, and while i was upset and severely bummed out, I take this as a message, whether it be from some higher God-ish incarnation, or just the way time should naturally progress in my life, this is what was supposed to happen because otherwise I would have been there too long, and I would never have been given the opportunity to make a serious change in my life, in myself, in everything I once had a passion for, but threw to the wayside because I was too busy being one fake fuck. Change on the key change, and because I am awesome, maybe I have a chance to be an artist again, and write, and sing, and learn, and teach, and get back to who I was a few years ago.
This stings like a motherfucker, but, after that part wears off, we'll be back in business and maybe I can write something that doesn't sound like I'm listening to Jenny Lewis, which I am, and I can write you all something to bring the laughs back.
As always, thanks for reading, and thanks for being my friends( lame-o I know, that's the Jenny Lewis sads talking). Without you, I'm just some lonely cat lady talkin to her cat.
Love,
Betsy
I'm sorry to hear about your job, but this is a great way to look at it. My sister had a similar thing happen to her with her job and now she's teaching at DePaul instead of pushing papers at a job with no real future. It was hard for a few months, but in the end it was the best thing that could have happened to her. Good luck, Betsy!
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