let me explain. no, there is too much--let me sum up.
On Tuesday, November 30th--my first day back to work after Thanksgiving with L--I was let go from the job. I worked there exactly 6 weeks and in that time said, "You need a lawyer," at least 3 times a week. I suppose they finally got the message. The reason given was that they were "going in another direction." A lawyer direction, I reckon. Fine by me! I second Celeste's notion that I was pushed off a sinking ship. I did not want to be there when the Feds came for a long past-due audit. No effin' way.
Oh yes: I walked away with a week's severance and my $5K bonus. How did I get my bonus? I am fuckin' gangsta. It's important to be smarter than your employer, kids. I do so love a flimsy contract. *insert maniacal laughter*
I call L later that day to tell him about my good fortune, to which he says: "You are clearly too cool for New York." More "come to the farm" noises are made. I demure, but barely. I'm wanted AND needed there (he truly needs someone with a head for law and money), and it's so nice to feel those things coming from a good man. Those 50 acres of art and food were calling too, and loudly.
Flash forward to Saturday, December 4, when L calls to tell me he cannot make it to NYC for his scheduled visit because his mom's last days appear imminent. I ask if he wants me to come and be there with him (seeing as how I don't have a job and all) and he indicates yes, emphatically yes. He buys my ticket for Monday morning, but his mom passes Sunday evening. It happens gently, in her sleep, but that doesn't make a year of dementia any less brutal. Life, in all its inflections, has the potential for such brutality. It was awful.
Despite the somber occasion, L, his friend J (and first long-term resident of the farm in it's new form and function) and I have been having a wonderful time with one another. J and I have kept the painful chores--like packing up L's mom's room at the care facility--quick and light. That's what you do for the people you love. And I love him... with a depth and breadth that staggers and electrifies me.
So yes, my goodbye eyes are on NYC. My escape engines are lit. I think I've gotten all that I could out of my time there, and when the universe gives me L and pulls two jobs out from under me in as many months, I can't help but observe the signs and weigh them accordingly. I've wanted to run away to a farm for a good while now. That is has art too? And this magical man I couldn't even dream for myself because it's just too much good and right in one person? Bonus beyond bonus. Peace out, NYC. I will love you always, Brooklyn, but your love is much too hard to hold onto.
The plan: if I can land another finance job in the next few weeks via my recruiters, I'll take it and work it until my lease runs out in July. Otherwise, it's sublet time and some resume' pimping in Michigan; they'll love my ex-Wall Street ass, right? Luckily, I have the luxury of time and cash, not to mention the extra confidence one finds when your fella, mom, and close friends have your back. I am ridiculously happy and excited.
Oh yes: I walked away with a week's severance and my $5K bonus. How did I get my bonus? I am fuckin' gangsta. It's important to be smarter than your employer, kids. I do so love a flimsy contract. *insert maniacal laughter*
I call L later that day to tell him about my good fortune, to which he says: "You are clearly too cool for New York." More "come to the farm" noises are made. I demure, but barely. I'm wanted AND needed there (he truly needs someone with a head for law and money), and it's so nice to feel those things coming from a good man. Those 50 acres of art and food were calling too, and loudly.
Flash forward to Saturday, December 4, when L calls to tell me he cannot make it to NYC for his scheduled visit because his mom's last days appear imminent. I ask if he wants me to come and be there with him (seeing as how I don't have a job and all) and he indicates yes, emphatically yes. He buys my ticket for Monday morning, but his mom passes Sunday evening. It happens gently, in her sleep, but that doesn't make a year of dementia any less brutal. Life, in all its inflections, has the potential for such brutality. It was awful.
Despite the somber occasion, L, his friend J (and first long-term resident of the farm in it's new form and function) and I have been having a wonderful time with one another. J and I have kept the painful chores--like packing up L's mom's room at the care facility--quick and light. That's what you do for the people you love. And I love him... with a depth and breadth that staggers and electrifies me.
So yes, my goodbye eyes are on NYC. My escape engines are lit. I think I've gotten all that I could out of my time there, and when the universe gives me L and pulls two jobs out from under me in as many months, I can't help but observe the signs and weigh them accordingly. I've wanted to run away to a farm for a good while now. That is has art too? And this magical man I couldn't even dream for myself because it's just too much good and right in one person? Bonus beyond bonus. Peace out, NYC. I will love you always, Brooklyn, but your love is much too hard to hold onto.
The plan: if I can land another finance job in the next few weeks via my recruiters, I'll take it and work it until my lease runs out in July. Otherwise, it's sublet time and some resume' pimping in Michigan; they'll love my ex-Wall Street ass, right? Luckily, I have the luxury of time and cash, not to mention the extra confidence one finds when your fella, mom, and close friends have your back. I am ridiculously happy and excited.