abundant sunshine on my shoulder

In case you hadn't noticed, I was really unhappy at my last freelance gig. The Creative Director was a complete douchebag & the place was sliding quickly down the bowl of an enormous toilet in flush mode. As luck would have it, I was emancipated almost two weeks ago. The CD said they just didn't have enough work & money to keep two writers on staff, so he let me go & kept the poor guy who was struggling through his second day. Soon enough, he'll join the frustrated copywriters' guild.

It's not exactly an exclusive group. There are frustrated writers everywhere -- fantastic writers, stifled by narrow constraints, untrusting superiors and a lack of vision. Every day, I see more proof, especially online. Take, for instance, this example from weather.com. Looks to me like someone was sick & tired of describing conditions as merely "sunny," "cloudy" or "raining." It's abundantly clear to me that someone's unhappy.

That's why this time, I'm taking it easy. I'm not going to be pressured into taking a job just to work. This time, I'm going to be much pickier & get what I want, instead of just a paycheck & a daily sense of dread.

peoples gots to go when peoples gots to go

The fun portion of this trailride I've been on the the past couple months is coming to a bitter, sad end. I'm neither bitter, nor sad, but I'm keenly aware of the dwindling numbers in the humor column here. Friday marked the passing of yet another one of my newest & funniest compadres from the tiny agency I've been calling my temporary crapshack recently. She didn't die -- yet. She may if she sends me pictures from the beach this week. She just got a better job at a better place. Much better in both categories.

And today, the unsettling reality of silence is overwhelming. Seriously, nobody's talking. Sound has died in suite 900. Who will I take hour-ish-long lunches with? Who will dare to suffer the occasional afternoon Smoochie? I'm gonna need to have a bake sale to raise the funds necessary to find my sanity, wherever it may be.

Or I could just find another job & run far away from the eerie silence of rats trapped in cages of their own making. Yeah, I'm gnawing outta here. Anyone got a tooth file?

UPDATE: I Smoochied myself. Now I feel dirty, but in a totally good, healthy way.