If It Feels Good Do It

It’s funny being me.

THURSDAY

And sometimes it’s better than that. Thursday morning was one of those times.

I was hard at work, at work. Then I received two pieces of correspondence.

OFFICIAL CORRESPONDENCE

Format: Text Message
Date: Thursday, September 11, 2008
From: *
Body: Me and * are talking about you.

Format: Text Message:
Date: Thursday, September 11, 2008
From: *
Body: I believe the phrase “to know ian is to want to fuck ian” was used.

THIS CONCLUDES THE OFFICIAL CORRESPONDENCE

Whoa. Those texts put a little pep in my step. And I was sitting down.

Then I worked my ass off all day. I had arrived early so I could leave early for my writing class.

In class I read a poem. It was about the divorce of my parents and the subsequent absence of my father.

A lot of people were way into the poem, and the teacher gave it a perfect score. Everyone applauded. Twice.

Later, conversations I had in the class went like this:

“Steve! How’s it going, man?”

“Hey. It’s going good. I’m really into your writing, Ian.”

“Whoa. Gee, thanks.”

Or this:

“Hey, what’s your name? I’m Ian.”

“Hey, it’s Patrick. Yeah Ian, I know who you are. Everyone does. I really like your writing.”

I was the man, man.

I went home, pumped.

FRIDAY

The next day I woke up and started working on another award winning blog entry. Somehow the spirit didn’t move me, and I never finished it. I checked my email, and found something in my inbox from someone I never met before who apparently read my blog.

OFFICIAL CORRESPONDENCE

FORMAT: email
DATE: Thu, Sep 11, 2008 at 10:45 PM
FROM: *
SUBJECT: Wondering..
BODY:
Are you going to write a novel? I think you have potential to do
something like Fear and Loathing with the twist that I would actually
like it.

–
*

THIS CONCLUDES THE OFFICIAL CORRESPONDENCE

Whoa.

Then I rode my bike to work.

At work, things took a drastic turn for the worse.

While I was in class the previous night, my manager had discovered a bug in my code. He was not happy.

A Vice President had a few words for me about that. Well, more than just a few. I had more than just a few words for him, too.

Afterward, I was hurting. I had worked so hard throughout the week.

But then I went out to lunch with some of my favorite co-workers. I told some jokes and stories about my first job in Benicia as a dishwasher. Somebody told me about their first job as a ditch-digger in Bosnia. It was unclear whose first job was worse. We were all cracking up.

At the end of the lunch someone said to me, “you should eat lunch with us more often.”

I was the man. Again.

Then I had a pretty good day at work. I checked in some new code, and then wrote an email to my manager and the V.P. Then I went home.

But over the weekend I had a bad feeling.

MONDAY

On Monday, I got to work on time. And once I got to work, I got to work.

I finished up some administrative stuff, and began writing an email to both my manager and the V.P. It was regarding a simple idea for how the three of us could work better together.

Ironically, it was my manager who interrupted.

“Hey, Ian. Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Oh yeah, sure.”

We then walked. And walked. And walked all the way to the other side of the building where no one else sat. We went to a small room.

Seated in the room was the Vice President. He smiled.

“Hi Ian, why don’t you have a seat?”

The Vice President proceeded to say a lot of things. Almost all of them were nice. I was “capable.” I had the “potential” to be a “real contributor.” But he said one thing not in that category.

“It would be best if we parted ways.”

But he said it in a nice way. His reason was that we were “not a good match.”

Then I had a brief conversation with H.R. and then I left the building. I had ridden my bike to work, but I pushed it home. And looked at the ground. Then I sat down on a curb in the shade. I was tired.

I looked around. Everything seemed different.

No one was there.

I breathed in. It was bright outside. I was wearing sunglasses.

I sat there for a while. Since age 16, the majority of the time I had a bridge back to normality. That bridge was a job. It didn’t matter how far off the deep end I went, I could always go back somewhere to do some work and be productive. And I believed in work. Now I had no job and no definitive plan for getting one.

I rode my bike home. I checked my email.

OFFICIAL CORRESPONDENCE

FORMAT: email
DATE: Mon, Sep 15, 2008 at 9:34 AM
FROM: *
SUBJECT: [Who Cares]
BODY:
Hello Ian,
[A bunch of stuff here.]

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
Love Love
*

[And the file, tattoo.jpg was attached.]

THIS CONCLUDES THE OFFICIAL CORRESPONDENCE

Holy shit.

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