Greg and Liz left late night and both of them weren't in the best of shape. Despite the fact that we had a blast in San Francisco, Greg had been sneezing his damn head off all day long. Sinus medicine didn't seem to be helping. It wasn't that he was feeling bad, per se, just that he was constantly sneezing. Towards the end of the night, however, he was looking pretty beat, almost asleep on the table at Denny's. And as they drove back to drop me off, Lizzie got some sort of sharp pain in her back and looked awful. I offered to let them crash at my place again, but since they both had to work today, it didn't make much sense -- they would have been leaving at like 5:30 a.m. in order to get to work on time. So that was no good. Hopefully they'll be better in time for the weekend.
Okay, I know I've been avoiding talking about the bull in the living room, but Erin, I hope you're doing okay. I haven't heard from you since that post, and while I wish I could say I understand what you're going through, I can't. None of my friends have ever passed away (at least none that I know of) and I'm not sure how well I'd take it. I can only imagine how tough it would be, even someone who you haven't talked to in years. I've only lost a few relatives so I can only empathize, because I can't say I've ever had to endure that kind of loss. If you need someone to talk to, though, you know we're always here for you and will do anything we can to make the time easier for you. If there's anything I can do to help, let me know.
And, in what seems to be a theme in my life of everyone I know in the middle of chaos, I just spoke with my best friend Joe and it sounds like the "safe job" in Seattle may be falling apart before he even gets there. Seriously, this is the kind of thing I was hoping really wouldn't happen, because it puts them in a very tight spot. I don't know what the hell they're going to do. Talking to Joe on the phone, I could hear his whole world falling apart and there wasn't anything I could do to help out. The "job" he had was going to be working for a guy who now won't be able to give him a job for "at least 3 weeks," which is the last thing you want to hear when you're rubbing two pennies together for a prayer in hopes that you can make it all even out. They're running low on money, they're essentially unemployed, Joe wanted to get his wife into classes this fall but now they won't be able to pay for it, so that may not happen... it's getting close to a worst-case scenario for them. Should things get disastrous, they always have the option of coming back down to the Bay and moving into my spare bedroom for a while as they try and figure everything out, but right now, who knows? They just got the news about the job drying up from me, on the phone, because Joe can't even check his email on his own.
I can at least partially empathize with Joe. I imagine he's feeling a little like I did in February of 2001 -- at that point, I had just been laid off from CNet and was unemployed and alone in the Bay area. (I had yet to meet any of the wonderful people I share this blog with yet.) For a few months, I was faced with what I still consider the most daunting challenge of my life. I was at home, unemployed, collecting unemployment and looking for a job 8 hours a day. And every morning, I would get up, walk into the bathroom, look into the mirror and tell myself that I wasn't worthless. I had to remind myself that the company's faults were not my own, and that I was laid off for no reason I could control. But let me tell you, it was hard. Every morning I had to sell myself on that idea, on the idea that I was going to find a new job, that I was going to stay in the industry, that I wouldn't have to crawl back to work in some dingy newspaper for dimes on the hour or, worse still, move back to Nebraska. Don't get me wrong, I love the town where I grew up, but I need to spend at least a decade away from it, on my own, seeing more of the world. And I love the Bay area, as I'm sure you all know. Leaving it for Vegas was very difficult for me. It wasn't until May of 2001 that I found a new job and even then it involved leaving the Bay. (I had another job offer that was here in the Bay, but I would've been working Q/A, and that's not something I'd ever like to go back to.) Being unemployed is a constant strain on your mental welfare and I can only imagine it's compounded for Joe because he's married and that means it's not just him but his wife, and the two of them have got to figure out what to do. One wrong step and they could almost end up being homeless. I've stressed to them that they can always come down and live with me, but I'm going to have to remind them again tonight.
Suddenly, my problems seem a whole lot smaller in the world. I'm more concerned about my friends and if they're in trouble or not, because everyone seems to be in the middle of their own little mess. Greg and Liz seem to be working towards a resolution on the whole roommate/living situation thing, so that's a good sign.
God, life was so much simpler when we were kids.
Okay, I know I've been avoiding talking about the bull in the living room, but Erin, I hope you're doing okay. I haven't heard from you since that post, and while I wish I could say I understand what you're going through, I can't. None of my friends have ever passed away (at least none that I know of) and I'm not sure how well I'd take it. I can only imagine how tough it would be, even someone who you haven't talked to in years. I've only lost a few relatives so I can only empathize, because I can't say I've ever had to endure that kind of loss. If you need someone to talk to, though, you know we're always here for you and will do anything we can to make the time easier for you. If there's anything I can do to help, let me know.
And, in what seems to be a theme in my life of everyone I know in the middle of chaos, I just spoke with my best friend Joe and it sounds like the "safe job" in Seattle may be falling apart before he even gets there. Seriously, this is the kind of thing I was hoping really wouldn't happen, because it puts them in a very tight spot. I don't know what the hell they're going to do. Talking to Joe on the phone, I could hear his whole world falling apart and there wasn't anything I could do to help out. The "job" he had was going to be working for a guy who now won't be able to give him a job for "at least 3 weeks," which is the last thing you want to hear when you're rubbing two pennies together for a prayer in hopes that you can make it all even out. They're running low on money, they're essentially unemployed, Joe wanted to get his wife into classes this fall but now they won't be able to pay for it, so that may not happen... it's getting close to a worst-case scenario for them. Should things get disastrous, they always have the option of coming back down to the Bay and moving into my spare bedroom for a while as they try and figure everything out, but right now, who knows? They just got the news about the job drying up from me, on the phone, because Joe can't even check his email on his own.
I can at least partially empathize with Joe. I imagine he's feeling a little like I did in February of 2001 -- at that point, I had just been laid off from CNet and was unemployed and alone in the Bay area. (I had yet to meet any of the wonderful people I share this blog with yet.) For a few months, I was faced with what I still consider the most daunting challenge of my life. I was at home, unemployed, collecting unemployment and looking for a job 8 hours a day. And every morning, I would get up, walk into the bathroom, look into the mirror and tell myself that I wasn't worthless. I had to remind myself that the company's faults were not my own, and that I was laid off for no reason I could control. But let me tell you, it was hard. Every morning I had to sell myself on that idea, on the idea that I was going to find a new job, that I was going to stay in the industry, that I wouldn't have to crawl back to work in some dingy newspaper for dimes on the hour or, worse still, move back to Nebraska. Don't get me wrong, I love the town where I grew up, but I need to spend at least a decade away from it, on my own, seeing more of the world. And I love the Bay area, as I'm sure you all know. Leaving it for Vegas was very difficult for me. It wasn't until May of 2001 that I found a new job and even then it involved leaving the Bay. (I had another job offer that was here in the Bay, but I would've been working Q/A, and that's not something I'd ever like to go back to.) Being unemployed is a constant strain on your mental welfare and I can only imagine it's compounded for Joe because he's married and that means it's not just him but his wife, and the two of them have got to figure out what to do. One wrong step and they could almost end up being homeless. I've stressed to them that they can always come down and live with me, but I'm going to have to remind them again tonight.
Suddenly, my problems seem a whole lot smaller in the world. I'm more concerned about my friends and if they're in trouble or not, because everyone seems to be in the middle of their own little mess. Greg and Liz seem to be working towards a resolution on the whole roommate/living situation thing, so that's a good sign.
God, life was so much simpler when we were kids.
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