Almost three months ago, I was let go from a job that I actually looked forward going to. Don’t get me wrong, in the two years I was at said job, there were days I didn’t want to go. Everyone has those days – I don’t care what you do for a living. Point is, I had significantly more good days than bad so it goes without saying I was pretty bummed when I got the axe. Luckily, I had two friends who held it together for me, creating this blog so I could keep writing. It sounded like a great idea at the time, likely because I was still shocked from getting laid off on my two-year anniversary rather than getting a raise. I was totally motivated at first – but much like calling it quits after three or four beers, the buzz wore off quickly.
I was pissed. The worst part was, I didn’t even do anything wrong. I got let go because there was no money to pay me. Basically it went like this: “We really love your blogs and you’re a great writer, we just have to let people go because we’re as broke as you’re about to be. No hard feelings.” Clearly not verbatim, but you get the gist. I thought about that conversation –and by conversation I mean me getting told I’m out like McNabb in Philly – over and over. My motivation went from here, to here. Funny how that phrase is completely worthless unless you can see me, though I’m sure you get my point.
So weeks went by and I wrote nothing. Football season was starting and even with so much to say, I had no desire to write about any of it. My friends kept asking what I was waiting for and I was running out of sarcastic responses. Sadly, it took a dated Facebook post and a passive aggressive comment (courtesy of my unassumingly passive aggressive best friend) to kick me in the ass.
Apparently I was the last person on Earth to find out that the owner of the Segway Corporation died in a Segway accident. I decided to share my discovery with the Facebook world only to learn that I was three days late. THREE DAYS? How could three whole days go by before I learn of something as hilariously tragic as that? I would have been all over that in my prime. My co-workers and I would have fought over who got to write about it, and instead of thinking positively, I went back to being bummed. Am I a complete idiot? I don’t have to debate over who gets to rip on the ironic misfortunes of others anymore. I can write about whatever the hell I want. Sure, I’m currently not getting paid for it, but I don’t have anything better to do. Laundry gets old after a while.
So now that I ripped the proverbial Band-Aid off and the sting is subsiding, I vow to start writing more often than once every three months. I forgot how good it feels to write more than a Tweet’s worth of bullshit. Besides, I am convinced that people do stupid things just so I can write about them — and because they have no brain.
I actually feel a lot better having written this blog, it wasn’t nearly as painful as I expected. I suppose I owe a debt of gratitude to my asshole friends who called me out for being behind the times, though you all pissed me off. I envisioned getting back into writing would be more torturous, but now it just seems silly. I mean, there are far worse things in life – like driving your Segway off a cliff.