The art of leaving

Ah Christ. I left my job today. Not like it was a long-term commitment or anything. I was just freelancing at the NBC affiliate in D.C. Or as my friend Darcy put it today, "perma-lancing". I worked 4 days a week there -- and only because I told them I didn't want to work Fridays. Otherwise, I would have been a full-time freelance employee. Which is an oxymoron of sorts...but I digress. They bought me a cake, and ice cream. We had a little going-away party for me. When I say "they", I don't mean the higher-ups. I mean the people in the trenches I worked with every day. I had only been there for about 6 months, maybe less. And they treated me like I was a long-time friend. You know, for every diva reporter and asshole manager (see my previous post, 'Take this job...'), there are a dozen people that take you in, accept you as one of their own, and make it worthwhile. They are the people that keep you from pulling your hair out and having a screaming fit in the middle of the office. Which, actually, I did at my previous job. I haven't quite mastered the art of leaving. It still hurts. Even leaving a place and people I've only known for a few months. I worked at Fox for more than 4 years. Hated it...and cried like a baby when I left. I long for the day when I don't have to leave anymore. Where I can settle down and stay, knowing I've found a home. A constant. Something that never changes, never wavers. And I hope I can appreciate it for what it is, instead of looking to the horizon for that next big adventure. I start my new gig on Monday. I'll let you know how it goes.

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;

so many things seem filled with the intent

to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster

of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.

The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:

places, and names, and where it was you meant

to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or

next-to-last, of three loved houses went.

The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,

some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.

I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

---Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture

I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident

the art of losing's not too hard to master

though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

--Elizabeth Bishop