The Boy Who Cried Wolf

I’m sitting here alone in my new house, my new car parked outside, wondering if I’ve successfully deciphered the writing on the wall. The head of my company has decided he wants me to train someone else how to do one of the two things I do on a regular basis. It’s been established that the other thing I do isn’t producing spectacular results. All signs are pointing towards something I’ve seen as inevitable for months, maybe even for the entire time I’ve worked there. I’m trying hard not to think about what losing my job might entail but all my effort is really like a couple of half-filled sandbags trying to stave off a monsoon.

The upside is that with Stephanie away for a couple of days and with the house all to myself, I actually decided to do something constructive with my evening. I decided to finish reading Empire Falls. I read and I read and I read some more and it made me feel so good, in spite of everything. I feel like I’m on the verge of tears now, now that I’m away from the book, but I’ll be off to bed soon and then my own writing will be waiting for me in the morning.

I sent out some e-mails tonight with the new address and such. One of the e-mails went to my brother John. In the body of the message I addressed my concerns that by Friday I might be, once again, among the ranks of the unemployed. He wrote back something that made me smile. I’m not sure what he meant by it. Maybe he was just making fun of the way I closed my letter: "Love, Chris & Stef". Whatever the case, what he wrote is the thought I’d like to leave you with tonight, the thought I’d like to keep in my head as I go off to bed.

He said, "love yourself dude".

I’m going to try and do just that.