Wednesday, November 17, 2004

I'm racing against the clock on this job. I had more to do than I thought and it's produced many late nights, early mornings. Last night I went to sleep at 5:00 in the morning. Admittedly, that was after reading in bed for an hour, but I am still working twelve hour days to try to finish my work. My last day is Friday, and I'm determined to have everything finished by that time. Two unexpected projects came up and it's put me behind in my main task. Oh well, that's life. But I'm ready to move on and not feel the pressure hanging over me that has been this project for the last few months. It's the one last thing I have to finish, and I can't wait to give it my patent-pending drop kick out of my life.

Somehow, my adrenaline has supported me on this one, though I was a little worried today as I felt myself dragging. On the way to work, I noticed the beautiful lighting in the harbor, so I drove onto the empty pier by my work and took pictures. Beside me were gargantuan sized gas tanks, and I expected to be accosted at any moment and asked why I was taking pictures. I wasn't, only by the occasional pelican or sea gull. The place was deserted, so I stood out there for awhile, feeling the soft marine breeze in my face. I looked at the water where a singular sailboat with white sails turned a pinkish orange by the setting sun, split the glassy water.

I have many pictures to post, but my computer is still down and I'm relegated to using this laptop which can barely support AOL 8.0. I had to uninstall 9.0 because it was too much for it.

My stepbrother Dan is back in town, so it will be fun to pick up where we left off, and also have someone to hang out with who is my age. My social life has plummeted since moving to Baltimore, and spontaneous outings like the ones I had with Shannon and friends are greatly missed. The people I meet feel so "dug in" here, and that's hard for me to relate to. Dan feels the same way about Hartford that I do about Baltimore, and we share many similar stories about the people and mentality. Both of us are ex big city dwellers, both having lived several years in New York and Los Angeles.

I think I'm going to have to take another art class not only because I've been wanting the creative outlet, but to interact with people on a regular basis who are non work related and also seeking creative satisfaction. Dan is at a career crossroads and needed a change of scenery, so he drove down here. He's been a very successful TV news producer for a long time. For a time, when the internet was the thing, our careers paralleled, even having us both working for Microsoft at the same time. He was in Seattle, and I was in Los Angeles. After that we were both producers of high profile web sites. Me at Fox Entertainment, promoting theater releases and home video on their Web site, and Dan at MSNBC. I actually worked in the building that was in the first Die Hard movie. Yep, I worked on the 25th floor in Nakatomi Plaza, which was really Fox Plaza. And yes, on more than one occasion I listened to Beethoven's Ninth when entering the parking garage. I was treated to daily spectacular sunsets, fun coworkers and great parties. The studios were also on the property and there was always something going on. Once, I almost inadvertently walked into a scene of NYPD Blue while they were filming. I saw Jimmy Smits and crew preparing for a scene, and was told by a crewmember that it was ok to pass through. I started my walk through the make-believe New York when I heard the A.D. yell, "Picture's up!" Fuck. I dove behind a dumpster until I heard him scream, "Cut!"

It was one of the most content times of my life and I got to do so many cool things on that job. It was a great company, even though my boss sucked. She was a coke addict I think, and because of that was hardly at work and left me to run the show. Which, by the way, was fine with me. My cube mate and I had a running joke of what the excuse for the day would be for her to miss work. She spoke like a stoned valley girl.

Ronald Reagan had an office at the top, that when his health permitted, he'd be there along with his secret service escorts. One day he pulled up in his limousine, and we all said hello, and he said cheerfully, "No thanks, don't want to buy anything today!" It was during the first stages of his Alzheimer's. I also rode up in the elevator with O.J. Simpson's attorney, Robert Shapiro, and found myself at a loss of words and manners. It was one of those awkward moments when we were standing in there alone and I had my lunch in hand. The elevator raced to the top and I rudely stared at him because I was taken aback and it was such a weird "sighting" as we call famous people sightings in L.A. He knew I recognized him, and broke the silence, commenting on that my fries smelled good. I'm sure I said something in return like, "You had to know that O.J. was one guilty mother fucker." Just kidding, I said nothing of the sort. He exited before me, and said to have a nice day. I replied in kind.

But back to the present, where I'm struggling and racing against Friday. I want to be free. I've enjoyed this experience, but I want to be free of it. I know that once I am, I will miss it. Today, someone asked me what I'm going to do afterward. This person was on the phone and is an ex-FBI informant who is incredibly rough around the edges. I told him that I didn't know, and he said, "A little soul searching, huh?"

Yeah, that sounds just about right.

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