Soaring on Wings of a Film

Years ago, I discovered my true joy in music. Finding songs with lyrics too distracting to write to, I discovered a wonderful synergy while writing to Original Music Scores from films. With almost 250 soundtracks in my library, I like to think I have become a bit of an aficionado on the subject. Now, when a big movie is hitting, I always look to see who is doing the music for the film.
My favorite composer of all time is a gentleman by the name of Hans Zimmer and I am always on the lookout for new music from him. (I was super-stoked when he signed on for the new Batman film franchise.)
The problem with loving this type of music is the ability to spread this joy around to my friends. Thank goodness for YouTube.
There is an album of Zimmer’s called Wings of a Film, which is a live concert recording of his music. I have always said that if there were some miracle that Zimmer and an orchestra came to the BOK center, I would sign up faster than I did for Star Wars: In Concert. And I would probably pay more for tickets. Yeah, I love Zimmer’s work that much. If I could right music, I would want to be able to write like him. I can’t think of higher praise than that.
From Wings of Film, there is a track called “Thunderbird” from the movie Thelma & Louise. If ever there was a track that made me want to play guitar (short from Gary Hoey’s Auld Lang Syne), it is this track.
The music is long, almost 8 minutes in length. It starts slowly and then gradually builds and at about 5:22 the music just takes off into the stratosphere.
Greater indeed are pleasures that are shared, so this is my humble offering to you… Enjoy. And to Mr. Zimmer, thank you…

THUNDERBIRD

Once More Into the Breach…

It is coming, my friends. Can you sense it? It is the inevitable doom on the horizon and it is rushing at all of us like a black basalt wave under a moonless midnight sky. We can sense it, feel it in our bones, and we are powerless to stop its crushing, relentless assault. It is coming…
Valentine’s Day.
I heard on a radio add that two out of every three women are disappointed on Valentine’s Day. What is synonymous with the holiday? Flowers, chocolates, hearts, jewelry. It is a time for a man to put forth a display to showcase how much he loves his woman. And what do the women have to do for this holiday?
I asked several ladies at my job what they are doing for their men this Valentine’s Day. The most common answer given? Nothing. “I guess I’ll give him some…”
That is all women have to do on Valentine’s Day. Put out. That’s it. Now, don’t get me wrong, it is a fantastic gift and no man ever turns it down. But look at the stress and angina that we have to go through to get it.
Case in point, in one Facebook entry, a girl was commenting on how the cupid arrow had struck her boyfriend and the person said, “Wonder what he wants?” Now, the short answer is “let me get up in them guts.”
But regardless of what we do, men are screwed. Every second of every day. Women are often so self-conscious about their appearance that if a man comments on how pretty they look, then clearly we must be up to something. We must want something if we are being complimentary. It is like we always have an ulterior motive.
Now, maybe, 90% of the time we do. But that ulterior motive is to, again, get up in them guts.
But it is so nightmarishly unfair. Men run around looking to find all the perfect gifts. If you don’t buy her diamonds on Valentine’s Day, you don’t love her. Didn’t bring her flowers, you don’t love her. “Why didn’t you buy me chocolates? Marie’s husband bought her chocolates! Is it because I’m fat?”
And so, to quote my last blog entry, men get punch drunk. So, riddle me this, ladies. What are you doing for your man this Valentine’s Day? Throw you legs up in the air and maybe, if he’s lucky, get all the way naked? You promise not to wear the flannel footie pajamas to bed that night?
Romance is a two way street and just giving it up without an argument is not really much of a gift. I say this not to chastise but to educate. Try to see things from our point of view once in a while. By the previous rationale, Romance is like having us start at our own two-yard line to begin the drive but when you get the ball, you get to start in the Red Zone.
It’s all too easy for you all. We gird our loins and charge once more into the breach. And all you have to do is say, “Come and get it” or in some cases “Well, let’s get this over with…”

Ladies, you have it pretty darn easy. Maybe you should do something different and go out of the way for him for once… Weaker sex, my ass.

The Small, Subtle but Incredibly Important Differences

Biologists say that there is only a 3% biological difference between men and women. Those small, subtle differences are incredibly important in the game of life. But how different are men and women psychologically? Infinitely. How? Read on…

Now, many people ask me, “Ryan, you have a job in a produce department and you write comic books on the side. Clearly you are swimming in cash. [I know those first statements are not questions.] Why buy generics?” The answer to this question is that I like to stay connected to the common man. I don’t demand that the public carry me around on a palanquin – the things that they used to carry around the Pharaohs… (Although that certainly would make shopping at Wal-Mart easier.) But I do tend to go for the store brands and the generics to save a few pennies here and there. I am saving up for an ivory backscratcher.
Often times, generics can be a gamble. I have had some generic Raisin Bran that was like chewing cardboard and little nuggets of rubber. But then there have been pleasant surprises. The frozen Best Choice Garlic Bread is the best! But you have to have standards in your life. Certain aspects should not be compromised.
Seriously, are you buying condoms out of a markdown basket? I don’t think so…
We do tend to clip coupons and occasionally we change up our brands depending on how much money we can save. So it was quite a treat when Amy came home with Cottonelle toilet paper. I have always been a strong proponent that this is one area that cannot and should not be compromised in. And ever since they stopped making Aurora White, I have been particular about my choices for back there.
(A shiny dime to whoever can cite that pop culture reference first…)
Many of you are thinking, “C’mon, Ryan. A blog entry about your toilet paper usage? Have you just run out of stuff to talk about?” Fear not, true believers. All of this has been a prelude.
So with the coupon gravy train drying up (that reminds me, we need pet food), we went back to the standard Angel Soft – the Wal-Mart house brand of toilet paper. And I am not happy. So I tell my wife, “Man, that new toilet paper is horrible.”
Amy gets mad at me for this statement and fires back at me that it is the same brand we have used in the past and I need to get over it because I am just using it “to wipe my ass.” Yes, I married her for her demure attitude. And for the record, everyone likes to be pampered back there. I dare you to use hotel sandpaper grade TP for a week and then try to argue that point with me.
So with two prefaces out of the way, we come to the meat of the entry… You see, in her mind, what I said was that she made a horrible decision by buying it. Let me state that I was in no way raking Amy over the coals for her decision. I don’t know if they changed the formula or something but I don’t like it. And because of the packaging, you never really know how TP is going to feel. It’s a crapshoot. (Pun intended.) I guess you could crack open a package and test it on the aisle before purchase but I don’t think employees at said store are going to be very happy with you.
But toilet paper is not the issue here. Ladies, if your men tell you something, you cannot take it as a personal affront. Last time I checked, Amy is in no way connected with the manufacturing of Angel Soft nor does she sit on the board of directors. Therefore, she should take no personal insult towards my comment – but that is how it was perceived. It was like I walked in and said, “Hey moron, that toilet paper you bought was horrible.” Which could not be farther from the truth.
Could I have phrased my comment differently? Sure. In hindsight. What I should have said was, “Man, Angel Soft must have changed their formula or something because I do not remember it ever being that rough and scratchy. Next time, can we buy Cottonelle again?”
I see that now, again, in hindsight, because at the time, I had no idea that a sane person would take personal offense at the “hey, the TP is rough” comment. See, my problem was I was looking at the situation LOGICALLY. Clearly, trying to defeat a woman with logic is a losing battle. But this is just a symptom of the insanity of trying to deal with women. These are the battles we as men have to fight and clearly we are unarmed.
Why do you think poker players hate playing with amateurs? Because amateurs make insane moves that no pro would ever make. And trying to have a logical argument with a woman is like trying to have a boxing match with an psychotic because you never know what ammo those people are bringing to the party. At what point will they pull off their boxing gloves and attack you with a rubber ducky and a chain saw? How can you prepare for that or defend against it?
So after a while, men become punch drunk. We are tired of trying to box straight up against someone playing Duchess of Queensbury rules. I am armed with 16 oz. gloves and you are stepping into the ring with a cat o’ nine tails and an enema home kit and I don’t like your intentions with either…
As a result, men shut down. We quit fighting. At which point, wives get mad and complain to their friends. “I never know how he is feeling. He won’t talk to me.” Because last time, I told you I didn’t like toilet paper and you took it as a personal insult.

Husband: “I am not really sure I liked those capers in the eggplant.”
Wife: “Well, I can’t do anything right. You can do all the cooking from now on! I’m going off to slit my wrists in the bathtub! Call the coroner!”

See how we can’t fight that mentality? So rather than lose another argument, we just choose not to engage in it. We shut down. And you made us this way. Ladies, think about that from time to time. Be a little more understanding and open and we might not be so afraid to open up to you…

But truth be told, when you ask us what we are thinking about, 90% of the time, it really is boobs. That is just male nature. That’s one fight we surrendered to a long time ago and have no intention of winning…

The Power of Colbert Compels You!

The Thursday February 4th episode of The Colbert Report first aired at 11:30 p.m. Eastern time. In the show’s second segment, Stephen reported that a Canadian magazine nearly 100 years old was changing its title because it was being blocked by Internet porn filters. The title of the magazine was The Beaver. The company decided to change the name to Canada’s History. Colbert then called on his readership to go to UrbanDictionary.com and post entries under the title of Canada’s History of the most depraved sexual acts imaginable to ensure that Canada’s History would become a mainstream sexual term. (I don’t know if it will reach the popularity of the Dirty Sanchez, the Alabama Hot Pocket, or the Cosby Sweater…)
So I watched the episode this morning (God bless the DVR) and when I logged in at 10:10 a.m. Central time, there had been 409 entries on 59 pages of entries. That’s unbelievable. Man, I love Colbert and to quote one of his segments…

That’s the craziest f@#king thing I’ve ever heard… Hysterical!!!!

Cogs in the Machine

Man, it is strange how quickly things can change in the space of a month. My 9-to-5 Job has been tossed into a nightmarish upheaval that I have not really commented on here because I was waiting for the dust to kind of settle. For the uninitiated, I work in the produce department of a local grocery store. It’s glamorous, I know, and most of you are probably going to be sending me emails asking how I got so lucky. Still, it paid the bills while Amy was in school and it serves as an outlet for me now that she is working. Isolating into Hermitville is probably not best for me from a psychological standpoint.
So here it is in black and white. I’ve never pulled punches on here before so why stop here? (But names will be safeguarded to preserve reputations.) Shortly after Christmas, my boss decided to leave the company abruptly. 15 years of history wiped clean because of a deserved altercation between him and management. 15 years erased because of a crippling disease. Don’t drink, kids. It never ends up well. I still keep in contact with him and I hope he gets the help he needs. But if I were a betting man… Let’s move on.
So he is gone and my future was in jeopardy. But I have weathered the storm and slid through unscathed… like always. I’m like freaking Neo dodging bullets. But the hits just kept on coming.
A person that I considered one of my best friends has moved on to greener pastures as well. We did not work in the same department but it was someone that I would take breaks with and constantly joke around with. We’ve seen stripper boobs together and that gives you a certain unspoken bond. So like that, my friend – and I do consider him a true friend – is gone.
And here a few days ago, a second person from our department is prepping to leave. (That means that in the last two months we have lost 2/5th of our department.) And when you interchange that many people in small departments, the landscape changes dramatically.
Now, let’s add in the fact that the red tape of paperwork and the logistics of hiring someone often cripples our store. Which means it is probably time for me to step it up at work… again. “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.” Why do things like this always happen when I am really in a groove and flowing with my writing?
Still, as John Donne once said, “No man is an island.” And it is amazing to me how one or two key changes can so dramatically affect the entire landscape of an organization.
Stop and look around every once in a while. How big a cog are you in your machine? Will people at your job miss you when you are gone? Will they celebrate? The most important thing in any person’s life is to feel necessary, to feel valued. Make people appreciate you tomorrow. Make them value your presence… because you never know when your last day might be.

“No man is an island entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as any manner of thy friends or of thine own were; any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind. And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”

--John Donne

What A Way To Make an Exit...

"All I ask of you is one thing: please don’t be cynical. I hate cynicism — for the record, it’s my least favorite quality and it doesn’t lead anywhere. Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get.

But if you work really hard and you’re kind, amazing things will happen. I’m telling you, amazing... things will happen...."

Conan O'Brien

01-22-10

Final Appearance as Host of the Tonight Show

Damn good advice. We miss you, Co-Co....

Mortality & The Meaning of It All

Yesterday, I had to attend a funeral for my wife’s maternal grandmother. Now before there is a massive outpouring of sympathy, please consider that she was nine days away from being 94. 94. She witnessed the Great Depression, World War I, World War II, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, the first Iraq War, the second Iraq War, and the ongoing War on Terror. She lived through 18 different presidents. She had children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and even great-great-grandchildren. That is really saying something.
So, sitting there in church, I could not help but think of my own mother who passed away in 2005. (Point of fact, that was the last time I had sat in a church as well.) The preacher that led the sermon spoke of Blanche’s departure from this world as a “home-going” and I really dug that. The music was very solemn and dignified and the type of service one would expect of a person of such advanced years. It was very quaint… and the exact opposite of what I want when I shuffle off this mortal coil.
I think it is completely natural to dwell on your own mortality after attending a funeral. (It is also custom for people to shag like rabbits after being reminded how life is finite. If you get down like that, it’s cool. Just have your lady call you “Ryan” once.)
So let me put it out there.
Now, we are going off the deep end here and I don’t need any phone calls or me put on any kind of monitoring that ends in the term “watch.” Stick with me as I take you on my logic roller coaster ride. All will be made clear…
I do not fear death. Of course, not fearing death and being ready to die are two very different things. I am by no means ready to check out. I still have too much that I want to do with my life, too many stories left untold and too many events unwitnessed. (There has to be an Angelina Jolie/Brad Pitt sex tape. There has to. He is too dreamy… Wait. I mean she…) Let’s move on.
There is a great mystery, a grand expanse that is beyond this mortal world. I look forward to walking with Him as we discuss the purpose of life and why things have evolved (or in some cases devolved) the way they have. I want to know why. And given His sense of humor, He might just shrug His shoulders and say, “Why not?”
I look forward to seeing my mother again. I look forward to meeting Granny Blanche as an immortal and eternally youthful soul. Can I meet Abraham Lincoln? Can I meet ancestors I never knew? And will the place prepared for me meet the expectations of my dreams? Will my collection of fully functioning lightsabers help me defeat the robot-mechanical dragon that keeps the Double-D swimsuit models trapped within the chocolate cave hidden behind the caramel waterfall?
I wonder…
I see death as the next stage in a great adventure. Which is why I do not want to have a funeral. I want to have a memorial service. I want my death to be a celebration of my life. I don’t want people decked out in black and wearing solemn attire. I want Hawaiian shirts. In truth (but probably not financially feasible), I want all my Pall Bearers dressed as either Shock Troopers or the 501st Clone Troopers. But it has to be one or the other. No mixing and matching. One group protected the Emperor and the other was Vader’s Fist. To combine them is ludicrous. And I want my casket to be wheeled out to the Imperial March theme…
I want boisterous music that represents me. I want those church speakers rockin’, son. I want lots of funny photos and laughter. Helium balloons and bunting may be too much but this is a celebration.
Can you play The Blind Boys of Alabama’s I Will Not Walk Alone? Certainly but juxtapose it with Sly & The Family Stone’s Dance to the Music or The Who’s The Seeker… “I won’t get to get what I’m after ‘til the day I die.” Hey, that’s got some meaning to it. I mean Amazing Grace is fine for most funerals but break out The Curse by Audioslave for mine.
I cannot believe that it is just darkness after we close our eyes. I cannot definitively say what lies for us afterwards. But I believe that everyone on this planet and everyone in history is a thread in an elaborate tapestry. And when I have served my purpose in this life and it is time for me to pass on… I am pretty cool with that.
The life that waits for us beyond this one is a great mystery and it is one that I look forward to solving. I can’t wait to pull the latex mask off the villain and have him say, “I’d a gotten away with it to if it wasn’t for you meddlin’ kids.”
But as I look down on my memorial service and I walk amongst you in spirit form, I want smiles. Surely goodness and mercy has followed me all the days of life and it is for that reason that I want joy and fond farewells. I want warm memories, mixed with gut busting laughter, and the occasional anguishing wails from people asking themselves, “Why didn’t I sleep with him?” Guys or girls. Either way. I don’t care.
But most importantly, the thing that I want people to say the most at my memorial service is, “Man, he sure owed me a lot of money…”Life is out there. Go live it…

New Year, New Decade, and I Am Determined to Improved…

Normally, this would the time that look back and reflect on the wonders and glory, the pits and the perils and the entire whole that was 2009. Normally… Unfortunately, 2009 was not exactly a stellar year for me. So I have decided not to rehash the old but instead embrace the new and the potential for hope that comes with a new year and a new decade.
So, I feel as if certain clarifications have to be made regarding my current status so you can see how I am forging ahead. And remember, kids, writing out your goals dramatically improves your chances for success.

First of all, New Year’s Resolutions. I have decided to quit smoking. I know millions of people make this resolution every year and fail. Quitting smoking is one of the hardest things you can do! But I am determined this year to make it stick.
When I have told this to my friends, most of them look at me skeptically and say things like, “Ryan, you never smoked. You can’t—” But then I usually cut them off by screaming at them and then I run away, arms flailing, before their negativity can drag me down.

Time to Finally Go Part Time: The boss of my department (who worked there for the last 15 years) ended his employment at my 9-to-5 rather abruptly at the end of the year. I have explained several times how I hate my job but I love the people. With a major people part of that equation now removed, it is now time to start thinking about my star player (i.e. Me). Which means it is finally time to start treating that job as a true part time thing and focusing more attention on my writing with hopes of turning it into a true full time job.
Truth be told, this was going to have to happen anyway. Amy now has her job rolling and it will be my job to attend to the kids this summer when school is out. So this means I will have to go to my bosses and say, “I can only work on weekends and if you work me during the week when school is out, I have to be out by noon at the latest.” When asked why, I just have to say, “I don’t want to explain to DHS why I left my six-year-old alone for nine hours.”
With this drop in income, I have to find a way to supplement that income. And for some reason, putting this sweet caboose out on the street corner has just not been generating the income it has in the past. I cannot imagine why. According to ABC, desperate housewives are supposed to be everywhere. I guess it is the economy. We are in a recession after all.
So, my attainable goal is to produce 10 graphic novels in 2010. I just turned in Draft 1 of TPB (trade paperback) #1 today and asked for permission to begin scripting TPB #2. So I am well on my way to obtaining that goal. (I have also been researching Egyptian and Norse myths to keep the idea train rolling. Insert your own Mummy joke here.) My hopes are that in 2010, my writing checks will finally exceed my part-time job checks. Again, given events that have transpired, I see this as completely doable.

Priorities, Priorties: To make the above listed goal happen, I really need to start prioritizing my life better. Which means I need to get on a strict schedule. I saw how the house degenerated during the Christmas holiday with the kids home and trapped inside because of the snow. Walkin’ around in a Winter Wonderland, my sweet Aunt Petunia!
I will not have the house degenerate this year! With Amy working and bring home the lion’s share of the income, I feel as if the house is on my shoulders. Which means I need to get on a regiment that allows me to manage the house, take care of the cooking, let’s me research and write, and still allow me to have fun playing my games.
So how does one accomplish this? By writing out my goals and delegating! Yep, time to get the kids involved. With ages of 13, 11, and 6, it is time for them to help shouldering the load. I believe the added responsibility will help all of them mature and will help me keep my sanity.
I will still do all the hard stuff but I do not see any reason not to get by with a little help from my friends… which in this case is family.

So from here we move forward into this new decade. And the house isn’t going to get clean and stories aren’t going to be written by mean diddling away on this blog. Back to the grindstone. Laundry stains prepare to face the terrible goodness of spandexed justice. And comic evil-doers, prepare to meet the wrath of my fabric softener! Wait… I may need to organize my plan of attack better….

Star Wars: In Concert

I know this blog is a tad late. Bear with me. So, back in October (on Amy’s birthday), we took the boys to attend Star Wars: In Concert. You can read about it by clicking the link. I say that we took the boys but this was just as much for me as it was for them. Before you send any hate mail asking why we didn’t take Lauren, it is because she is six and can’t stand the noise of a elementary basketball game, much less a concert…
If you know me, then you know how passionate I am about original music scores. I listen to them all the time when I am writing because I find lyrics distracting. And, well, you don’t get much better than the music from Star Wars.
This was my first trip to the brand new BOK Center. Extremely impressive, by the way. They had props from the films that you could see and take your picture with. It was a really cool event.
So, we had fifth row seats. (Yes, we spent way too much money on tickets.) And I was just a few dozen feet away from Anthony Daniels who played C-3PO in the movies. He was the narrator of the event.
The music was everything I expected it to be. The show was flawless. There was a massive orchestra with a full choir. Laser lights. Pyrotechnics that blasted us out of the seats. Everything was really cool.
I think the biggest pops where when they did footage of Vader and Yoda. Han Solo and Princess Leia got pretty resounding cheers.
Anthony Daniels was very funny and a wonderful storyteller. They had a recorded message from James Earl Jones (the voice of Darth Vader) to introduce him. Did I mention it was really cool?
We got Daniels and the conductor to come back out three times because of the standing ovation… and we got an encore of the Imperial Theme.
Now, admittedly, I am a pretty big geek. I don’t think that is a secret. But to be married to a person that embraces my geekiness and will go to a Star Wars concert with me is pretty special. And to have two boys that like Star Wars as much as I do, well that is just taking them down the right path in life.
It was truly a once-in-a-lifetime event and I could not be happier to be a part of it….

Rage As A Fuel

Imagine if you will two different scenarios, both involving Knights and Dragons. In the first scenario, a brave and valiant knight is charging into the lair of a dragon to rescue his princess who has been kidnapped and is being held hostage. In the second scenario, imagine the same knight charging into to fight the same dragon. Except his princess has not been captured… she has been killed.
Ask yourself. Who would you rather fight?
I would chose the first knight any day of the week and twice on Sunday. Because depending on the love of the princess, that second knight has nothing to lose and may even welcome death. That makes them a more difficult opponent because they take greater risks to win. That second knight will be hungrier than the first. He will not stop. Nor will he yield, relent or… ahhhh, only two synonyms? I’m losing my perspicacity!
As an alternative scenario, take if you will Darth Vader. Vader is one of the best bad guys in history and people might associate him with evil because he is a bad guy. It is not true. Vader is not evil. Vader is rage. He is someone that has been completely consumed by his rage.
If you want a more chickified version of it, there is a scene in Double Jeopardy where Ashley Judd is out running in the a prison yard in the rain and her two cellies look at her and one says something along the lines of, “That girl is running on pure hate.”
I think three examples are probably enough. Anyway, my dad often tells me that harboring hate is bad for the soul. It is something that can destroy you. And I think for the most part, in most instances, this can be true. But remember the knight from the first scenario? Rage can also be a fuel. It can keep you motivated and push you to limits you never thought possible.
The only drawback I can think of is that once you reach your destination, I have to often wonder how you feel with all of your energy spent. Now I know all the members of the Foley Nation are wondering. Perhaps you have come here by way of a certain Facebook posting. And I know what you must be thinking to yourself that I am the last person that should be writing about being a fountain of rage.
Obviously there has to be some event that facilitated this Lewis Black style tirade.
I have jockeyed and maneuvered myself into the absolute best position with my current 9-to-5 job. I have cut back to a part-time position to help shoulder the load of the house and the kids and allow me more productivity with my writing. Amy’s new job basically guarantees that her job takes priority and she has been after me to quit entirely.
However, I love my boss and I love 95% of the people I work with. Most of these people are in my Facebook friends and I genuinely like them. I am afraid of the psychological effects that may happen to me if I retreat into writing full time. Since my weekend poker game has fallen apart, this pretty much guarantees that I begin having only email relationships with people and I become crazy hermit guy with a better than average chance that I begin to perceive World of Warcraft as a reality.
Nobody wants that.
So, I should be enjoying my part time job. I should be using it as an outlet to get me out of the house and into the real world where I can have real life conversations with real life people. It should be ideal.
But my job has changed. The company that I work for has changed. They seem to have become obsessed with rules and regulations and writing employees up for infractions instead of being the “best place to work” as they like to say in their slogans. And one guy in particular is the problem.
He is an upper level management that I absolutely cannot stand. I literally loathe his very presence. He is condescending. He walks around as if he is high and mighty and better than the lowly employees that actually make the company function. I have no illusions that a nutless monkey could do my job but companies need to realize that good employees are hard to come by. And given the cavalcade of all-stars that I have outlasted should be an indication of just how valuable a good employee is. Yet all these new rules and regulations and this freakin’ c**ksucker has me tempted to throw away a five year relationship.
Granted, I may only see this prick a few handful of times a year but it is just that this jerkstore is in a position of management… it makes me frustrated that this is the type of manager that I have to deal with. If he is the representative of the company, this is clearly not a company that I want to work for…
So, I am at a crossroads. I could give it all up and risk a loss of income (such as it is) and insanity due to isolationism or I could gut it out just keep my head down and power through while loathing this individual with every fiber of my being but only suffer him a few handful of times a year. And if I continue to suffer this d-bag, I risk letting rage consume my soul. Is it worth it? Should I just bail out and call it a career? Why suffer fools for a part time paycheck? I make more money writing comic books anyway and I have NEVER had a bad day when I get to write my books. I don’t need an alarm clock when it is comic book writing day.
I was furious today. I mean shaking with rage. So I went to my boss and quit. I was going to be a man. I was not going to walk out. I said I would give him my two weeks. And the worst part of it, Dave completely understood why I was quitting. I was quitting because the system had failed me and I refused to let it bring me down.
But then I thought about my friends I would be leaving and the relationships I would be losing… and I unrang the bell. I am going to gut it out through the weekend, take full stock of my future and decide where to go from here.
Maybe I should just crack open a beer at the prep area while talking on my cellphone and smoking a cigarette. Surely, they would have to fire me. Have them make the decision for me, right? And for those that truly know me, I want you to think about that last statement. I just mentioned a possibility of me smoking. So I must be between a rock and a hard place.
Time will tell. It sure would be easier if I just hated the people I worked with….