Well, I'm running ragged and late today, and so have very little time to write. Why? Well, looks like I may be let go from my job. This has been pretty much a constant threat since the day I started three years ago, but suddenly it looks more serious than ever. My boss is tired of defending my position to those upstairs who do not understand what we do, and would at this point almost enjoy watching them unwisely let me go and soon realize their mistake as some things fall apart. So I was greeted with that news as I came into work, and then spent most of the day doing what's important in this situation: getting all my three-years worth of documents and music on disk. My company has a lovely habit of firing people and escorting them out with ten minutes to gather their shit, so I wanted to be ready for that.
But don't cry for me Argentina. This is not necessarily a bad thing. In a weird way, I welcome it. Yes, this is a perfect job while I have to still have a desk job, but I don't like it and wish I had more time to do my real work. Sure, I'd be poor, but happier. And the fact is I'm too much of a pussy to quit -- so the excuse of being fired would be a situation of taking the decision out of my hands. Thus: no guilt or remorse! So, anyway, I have more stuff to do to get ready in the event of my being shown the door. Sure, this may be just another idle threat, but I'm not taking any chances this time.
Otherwise, the weekend was good. I did work and hung out and kinda slept. I saw friends do comedy both nights, which was a good time. I got a flat tire on Friday coming home from work. I had to make a stop and went down a street where there is major construction. The car felt weird after but I made it to my appointment and then home no problem. But the minute I get out of my car at my place, I hear what sounds like my neighbor watering his lawn. Eventually, I saw it was my tire, and I watched as my car lowered slowly to the ground. The culprit, a large piece of metal that stabbed my tire. I borrowed a friend's car today while I got a couple new tires put on my poor old Civic. Man, I hope the errand I had to run that day turns out to be worth it. (A possible job opportunity. Just a possibility, but for some reason I really hope it pans out.)
As a result of the bust today, I've not been able to answer all the nice email I got on the last two entries. I will though.
And also, then, I don't have time to talk about the Oscars. I'm fine with most of the awards (except for fucking Gladiator,) but extremely happy that Marcia Gay Harden won. Extremely. I think I'm more pleased, however, with Steve Martin as the host. Man, he was fucking funny. Some of his jokes are still running through my head. He was classy and relaxed and bitingly funny, but not in an overt, Dennis Miller or Denis Leary type of "Hey, aren't I controversial! Listen to what I say next!" way. Just very funny and good. It made the show for me.
Okay, so wish me luck. I just don't know for which outcome you should be wishing.
Oh, but one more reason to hope I get to leave: right after I complained of having two books of stamps stolen the other day, someone else had a laptop stolen from their office over the weekend. Puts things a little bit into perspective, doesn't... no. Give me back my stamps, fucker.