Fuck That Shit

I think Birnam may be right. What better to hold on to than anger and an easy three-word motto? It's easily repeated in journalism company, because we all curse way too much, and it's a convenient number of letters that would look good tattooed on anyone.

I'm still sort of reeling. It's very surreal. Dan's sister has been home through all this--she was stopping by Fort Worth before several months of backpacking through South America--and she left early this morning. Today is my last day of work for the week, so Dan and I will be able to hang out all weekend. Tonight a bunch of people who got laid off and some who still have jobs are meeting up at a bar in Dallas, and while Dan's refrained from drowning his sorrows thus far, I think tonight will be the night to get blitzed.

Easter is this weekend, too. Dan was supposed to work on Easter, but now it looks like we'll have the day together. I'm just hoping it will be quiet. It was exceedingly awkward spending Tuesday night with Dan's family. There'd been plans for about a week for the family to go out to dinner that night, since his sister was home, and I'd initially declined because I planned to go out and ride. After everything that happened, though, I couldn't say I had to pass on seeing Dan, so I went out there. I'm not sure I'm up for doing that whole awkward thing again on Sunday.

In the mean time, I'm just bracing myself for a frustrating next few months. My life is still fine; I still have a job, I don't think I'm in danger of losing it, but I expect it will be difficult to be the only working journalist in what has always been a relationship between two working journalists.

I did tell Dan that if he went into PR, though, I'd do it. That way we can both be sell-outs.

Unemployed

This morning Dan got laid off by the Dallas Morning News.

We both knew today would be cuts, but we both thought he'd be safe. He is (was, I guess) a mobile journalist, doing photos, video and stories for the web and the paper, and he makes about half of what a lot of other reporters make.

But he got laid off, along with many, many other reporters, photographers and web people. He was the last person hired, so that may have been a red flag, but not a single editor got laid off. Not a single one, and yet those who generate content were axed.

Obviously, I've been on an emotional roller coaster today, and I'd be lying if I said it didn't affect my job today. I was having a hard time concentrating, I was forgetting things, I just didn't give a shit. I can only imagine Dan had it worse than me. I know we have it a lot better than a lot of those who lost their jobs--those who are married and have mortgages and kids or whatnot. There's enough freelance work out there to give him something to do, and he's already sending out his resume and pulling together clips, but this is going to be a huge, shocking transition. It's going to take a while for him to settle into the reality of this, I think, and it's going to take me a while to process it as well.

With the DMN making irrational business decisions and the Star-Telegram pulling shit like this in some misguided attempt to keep afloat, I can only say that I have utterly and completely lost my faith in the newspaper industry.

And as a reporter, that's a fucking awful feeling.

Look At The Momentum Here

I'd just like to point out it's been a week and I'm posting again. This is a good sign, right? Yeah? Like a consumer confidence index, hopefully this points toward more frequent posts in the future. We'll see.

Last night my sister told me she wanted to buy a bike and she wanted my opinion and I crushed her little romantic dreams of merrily pedaling through Fort Worth with a basket of flowers above her fender. I know this bike mechanic who calls them "circus bear bikes," because your posture is very upright and almost silly looking. I told her this. And then I suddenly realized that after years and years of hanging out with Dan and his bikes, I'd become elitist.

Tonight I have to convince myself to go out to the barn. I haven't been out since last Saturday--it's bad. I've been really on top of it, taking care of Topper and the Pony, but lately I'm just tired. I'm tired of driving out there, dealing with all this damn hair as they shed, tacking and riding both of them and driving home hungry and tired and dirty at 8:30 p.m. after having been at work all day. It's a bit of a burnout, I guess. (I'm having a lot of tired/lazy/blah problems, aren't I?)

I didn't go out on Tuesday like I usually do--I went for a long run at the Clear Forks Park and got a new library card and spent the evening reading instead. It was nice. And I know I'll be fine at the barn once I get there. I'm always happy once I get there. It's just the thought of everything that's daunting. Plus, I've got to get out today to drop the check for board for April.

Tomorrow is payday. All I really want to do is buy pots and pans. I signed my 60-day notice with the apartment complex yesterday (and had to deal with the front office people ask me to stay: "Are you sure you don't want to move into a one bedroom?" Fuck that shit, man.), and so I keep thinking of my own place. Is it strange that I'm 26 and have never lived in my own place? I don't know. My mother called me the other day and asked if I reconsidered staying with my sister, and I almost told my mother to "fuck that" but I didn't. I just said no way, no how. I tell my mom my sister is loud and rude and dirty and a bitch, and evidently my sister says the same things about me. But I'm not leaving every single effing thing in the kitchen dirty in the sink for a week after cooking elaborate meals with my boyfriend at midnight. That's probably why I'm so obsessed with my own kitchen stuff.

Yesterday I bought a few kitchen knives and it felt so good.