Two weeks

My last day at my office is officially June 9th. June 9th is less than two weeks away. That's, like, really soon.

I've worked some crazy hours in this place. It's caused me migraines. And anxiety attacks. I've been the bitchy one and the funny one. I've had outbursts and have sobbed quietly in the bathroom.

For all intents and purposes, this was my second job out of college. The third on my resume, but my second real career experience. I had no idea how a PR firm functioned when I started here. I got a job as an "Account Executive," and honestly didn't know what I would be doing day-to-day. I just knew that I was ready to leave my previous job, after much angst. Being 28 and only having had two real jobs feels a little strange. Like I missed something.

As my last day gets closer, I'm having a hard time imagining how the office will be without me. I know that sounds completely narcissistic, and it is. But the office will be a little different without me. I will be a little different without it. My thoughts are still coming together on this whole leaving thing.

Someone else is going to have to cut the ice cream cakes in the conference room. I wonder if my boss will re-hire me as a freelance cake-cutter?

I believe in duct tape, too, Miles...

I will be vacating the death trap of an apartment in a mere three weeks. I can hardly believe I made it a year. Nothing worked for most of that time. For instance, here's my father fixing the wall when it started to crumble because I hung a curtain rod. A curtain rod was too heavy for a load-bearing wall. I strongly suspect that the place is largely held together by tape.

Problems with the building from memory. I am probably blocking things out...
1. lack of hot water in showers
2. balconies leaked into apartments below causing water damage
3. broken intercom (for nine months)
4. heat routinely needing to be "rebooted"
5. warped floors (likely a symptom of #2)
6. management company neglects to pay ConEd bill for common areas of building
7. cracking walls
8. terribly insulated windows / walls
10. overall contempt for everyone associated with the building

Over the past week, at least two of our neighbors have moved out on our floor. And, from the looks of it so far, there are no new tenants. Perhaps the management company wasn't able to get three times the market value on our crappy ass apartments like they originally thought.

My new brick-and-mortar apartment, however, can be vouched for. It's actually a historical building, constructed in the 1800-something-or-others. I'd have to look on the sign on the outside of the building.

Soundtrack Edition (3)

(Track 3) Mates of State, "Like U Crazy"

I quit. And other life-changing things I've done lately.

Hey, guess what? I quit my job!

Now that that's out of the way...

I've been wanting to blog about my decision to leave my job basically since I decided to leave my job. A few weeks ago I walked into my boss' office, told him that I was thinking about moving, and that I would be leaving the company. And just like that I quit my job. In reality, it was quite possibly the least dramatic scene I played out in my head. My boss was supportive, albeit sad to be losing such a stellar employee. Naturally. And I'm sad, too. I've been at my agency for nearly three and a half years, and some of the people I've met here are very high on my favorite people ever list. My work isn't always pleasant - I interact with a lot of crazy people - but the people here are incredible. They're energetic and entertaining and engaging. I'd take a bullet for most of them.

There was no storming out in a tizzy. I had a rational conversation which resulted in my resignation. It was surprisingly easy. In the meantime, though, I'm working just as hard as I ever did here. I care about the people I'm leaving behind, so I want to leave my position in the best possible condition for them.

When the announcement was made in a staff meeting, a number of people asked where I was going. I'm not going anywhere (at least not yet). I've decided to take the summer and write. I hope people will pay me for it, but I don't know if they will. I don't know much right now, and I am anxious much of the time. In my head there are lovely visions of me getting up in the morning at a reasonable hour, walking to the YMCA for a swim, and then taking my laptop to the promenade to edit my novel and work on freelance projects to pay the bills. There's also a part where I watch Lost from beginning to end again. It's really very pleasant there in my head. I'm leaving reality for it.

What will happen? What will become of me? I see a Starbucks apron in my future. Which, honestly, is totally cool with me for the time being. I'm going through my pre-30th birthday change of life, and I will drink a lot of coffee while figuring out my next move. It may be across the country (what's up, Portland?), or down the street.

As an exceptionally anxious person, though, these last few weeks have been an extraordinarily difficult exercise in making a decision, and more importantly, making peace with it. If it turns out that this is a big fat life fail, then at least I know. I have plenty of blankets that I can cover my head and hide under.

Keep the car running

Across the street and about a half-block down from my apartment there is a 24-hour tire shop. As one might imagine, it's a bit noisy. It doesn't help that my apartment has floor to ceiling windows that are about as thick as a sheet of paper. Often, if a truck is passing by on 4th Avenue, it sounds as though its actually coming through my bedroom. On Saturday I was talking to my mother on the phone when 12-or-something- or other-wheeler went past the building, and my mom asked "where the hell ARE YOU?" She thought maybe I was hanging out on the freeway. Nope, I'm in my bedroom SIX FLOORS UP. And it still sounds like I'm standing in traffic.

I'm not even sure why Park Slope needs a 24-hour tire shop. Yes, people have cars -- cars are everywhere even though I'm pretty sure 85% of them aren't actually needed for anything. If you need baby formula in the middle of the night there's a bodega open somewhere within a few block radius. That's one of the great things about New York, of course. Get your Ben & Jerry's and lottery scratch-off fix anytime, anywhere.

The shop is just tires, too. If you're in the neighborhood at 3am on a Tuesday morning and feel the urge to buy yourself some snow tires? Come on down to 4th Avenue. I'll hear you. I won't be sleeping, don't worry.

Soundtrack Edition (2)

This refers to my tumultuous relationship with New York, not Rachel. Now please enjoy this delightfully campy (HA!) video.

(Track 2) A Camp, "Love Has Left the Room"