A Random Image

Jett Superior laid this on you on || June 26, 2003 || 6:33 pm

I’m sure you all thought that someone had finally strangled me and left me for dead (or, at the very least, veryvery annoyed and gasping for air), but have no fear! I’ve been inordinately busy these past few days; so busy, in fact, that it feels like a week has passed and I’m just now coming up for air.

When I got into the car to go to work this morning, ‘Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic’ was playing on the eighties station and it somehow felt like a sign from the heavens. I’ve not heard that particular tune in ages and how could anything possibly be amiss on a day when the Cosmos is telling you that every little thing you do is magic? I headed down the street to see that down by the corner I would have a difficult time navigating my car down the narrow street because there were a half-dozen vehicles lining both sides of it in front of a pretty little yellow house.

Eyeballing the four large Suburbans and the two Lincoln Towncars that comprised those half-dozen vehicles, I quickly realized that a drug bust was in full swing, YAY! I just moved onto this block where all the lawns are perfectly manicured and the cute little old peoples in their cute-little-old-people-houses tuck themselves in by seven pee emm every evening and there is a fucking drug bust happening across the street and four houses down. There were all the (hey I’m compensating in automobile size for what I lack elsewhere) vehicles, about six or seven doughy men milling about and there on the porch sat a young man and woman, mid-twentyish by the looks of them. They were cuffed, sitting Indian-style and there between them sat a rocker car seat with a baby fastened in it. I give the cops credit for waiting on DHR before they hauled the adults away, because by the looks of the turnout, they were expecting to find something big. Around here, if that many big men with that many huge vehicles show up, they WILL find something big –a meth lab or a room stuffed to the rafters with merrywonka– because the DEA in this county isn’t big on fucking around and/or looking situationally foolish. We have so many helicopter flyovers on this mountain that you’d think this was the heart of Drug Trade Central or somesuch.

This evening there is debris on the lawn and a lone car has gone back and forth several times in the few minutes I’ve been home. Lives broken, it seems.

Later on, sitting in the heat of midmorning, headed for the bank to close out the business account, I spied a bumpersticker on a garishly large-and-blocky minivan that said “God allows U-turns” which set off in me the runaway desire to have a bumpersticker (or several, for that matter) printed, saying “God DESPISES cliche”. I might just do that. I just might.

I thought I would have to work one more day past this one, but I was wrong. I was pleasantly surprised by the healthy work ethic of the temporary people brought in to tear down and pack up and just generally make my job easier while I focused on things like forty-leb’m phone calls –all with distinct and conflicting instructions– and making sure everyone’s severance package was in order. I wasn’t much concerned about my own: I have the boss’ home address and phone number, after all, but I wanted to make sure that my people were taken care of for the short haul until their unemployment goes through.

We all seem to be taking the rerouting tack with our lives: Everyone taking the opportunity presented not to sink into the doldrums, but to re-think and re-prioritize and start as fresh as possible. Everybody going back to school. Everybody planning to get the fuck up out of here in their own little ways. People are brought together for a reason, believe you that; we all were seated in our corner of corporate uhmerikuh to help usher one another into this period of change and growth.

I believe that. Everything has worked like clockwork to bring me to this place in my life, cleanly and almost (discomfitingly) effortlessly. For shitsakes, the new boss assigned to me in these times of change some three weeks ago is named Hope.

Hope, y’all. There are road signs and then there are road signs.

I’m at the cusp of newness, and it brings a warbling song to my heart. A relief. A growling readiness. My eyes are darting for about for trail, feet are itching to pad down an unbroken path.

I was the last one out this evening, carrying my basket of personal things and office supplies that I’d absconded with (is there anything more wonderful than pens and paper and staples and such?). As I walked, a large blue-and-yellow crepe flower that my daughter crafted and hung in front of my desk escaped the basket and fell to the floor. I sat the basket down, bent over to pick her art up, and when I straightened to my full height I looked around at the fifty some-odd boxes, the palleted and shrink-wrapped fixtures, transfixed by the largeness of the now mostly-empty space.

“Eighteen months,” I said to myself, “Eighteen months in this place, gone just like that.” It slipped blithely away, just slid right on past while I plink-plinked along, collecting a paycheck, going home to a maelstrom of laundry and ballgames and dinners to be cooked and towheads lying on pillows waiting to be kissed goodnight so we could greet more sliding moments with the next bleating of an alarm.

I must not waste any more moments of my minutes here on the nonsensical blue marble. I must stop just letting the moments slide past. I must no longer be surging forward, higgledy-piggledy, toward tomorrows and their infinite unrequited promise(s). I must greet right now warmly and craft it into something beautiful, all the while letting it craft something beautiful out of me.

Today begins that chapter, the one where I no longer sit back and just be life’s pupil, but instead strive to be life’s scholar. Join me.

4 worked it out »

  1. Jettomatika 6.27.2003



  2. delmer 6.27.2003

    it’s better this way.

  3. April Love 6.28.2003

    As I will miss you next door for the rest of the time I am here, I hope that all the things that we’ve talked about come to pass for you, and for me. As I read that, I could just think about what you said about little Scout’s face at the mention of my impending departure. Although I can’t wait to get out of this place, it’s the small things like that, that glue me to this place. I love you guys and I am thankful everyday that we “Goddesses of Retail” have come together.

  4. Kate S. 6.28.2003

    Ok, I’m out of the loop. I did not realize that your job was ending. I came in late, I guess. You are a spitfire, tho, so whatever direction you point yourself, the wind’s gonna be cringin’.

    I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you and hold a positive, encouraging thought.


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