No, not like that. I still plan to leave. But this week, it finally happened, as layoffs swept through Macromedia. In what seems to pass for the new corporate mindset, no one knows how many people were laid off, or from what teams, because I guess that would be bad for morale. Of course, not telling us stuff is just bad for productivity, as nearly every person on every team stops you and wants to get the scoop.

“Anyone laid off on your team?”

“Yeah, the person who did XXX. What about you?”

Our team got by with one layoff, my friend JoAnn, although I was really hoping it would be me.

I mean, saving my money is nice and all, but… I’d be just as happy finishing my book eating ramen and cashing my government unemployment checks.

I’ve even been especially ornery at work, because I knew they were coming. I wanted to try and be the perfect candidate for a layoff. The obvious one.

“We have to cut one person? Easy! Jeff!”

But, the problem with creating your own job that is not duplicated by anyone else on the team does have its downside, which is… if I get laid off, everything I do would most likely become a small burden for everyone, instead of laying off someone whose tasks can be more easily doled out, absorbed by the hivemind with less interference.

It will suck with Jo gone, though, as she was one of the last breaths of sanity there. Only one left. The rest are good, but they waver, some days they will complain, but the following day, any trashtalking of Macromedia just doesn’t fly. Jo was someone who knows that what we do isn’t important in the grand scheme of things. Now, I don’t want people to read this and think I’m making some blanket statement about technology is bad (which I do believe, in a lot of cases), but just that what I specifically do has little point. The majority of it is writing press releases, although a new level of delusion has been creeping in, except it is not delusion.

Basically, I feel like someone who used to work for Clinton having to perform my same job for Bush-Cheney.

“Can you write something about the Clean Air Act?”

“Sure. Umm, but this basically guts the EPA and relaxes safeguards about releasing dangerous pollutants into the air. Where’s the ‘clean’ part?”

“No, it has a rebate system and encourages businesses not to pollute through tax breaks.”

“But this company pays no taxes already.”

And on and on and on…

I guess what I’m saying is that I wish I worked somewhere where they just said, “This is messed up, but it is what we need to say because of X, Y, and Z.” Instead, it is what we get now with Bush, which is the same spooky message, but that only makes it worse because you get the sense he really believes what he’s saying. I guess I’d rather lie than be stupid, basically.

Trying to not be specific here, so that when this is published, I won’t have Macromedia freaking out about anything. Although, the amusing part is, my team is the one that will deal with it if there is somethig objectionable.

So, with my next paycheck (mid-March), I will be debt-free, and getting on a tight budget. The company stock has been on a slight uptick lately, and I’m curious as to whether I should start dumping stock. My lowest valued shares JUST started vesting this month, so I think I’m getting like 100 or so of them turning around regularly, and the yield now is like $8.50 per share, but figure $2 and change of each share goes to the government, so they can pay to teach straight people about the benefits of marriage.

I will be working with my stepfather on that, though, because if I am selling stock to hit my “I can quit” amount, I will need to know how much of that money is actually mine, and how much I’ll owe the government, because I want my savings to be free and clear of a HUGE tax hit next year, if possible.

Not much else happening, just a nice nervous energy about the book coming up. For a while, i thought I would publish a book on my deathbed entitled “20 Perfect First Chapters,” as I preferred tinkering with something and making it perfect, which is probably just a form of procrastination anyway, to actually finishing it.

But, can’t stop now, I want this sucker done. I want it in stores. I want my friends to read it. I want someone on Amazon to tell me how derivative and boring it is. Because there is no middle ground, you just have to hope the love outweights the hate. Or, that the sales outnumber the remainders, at least.

This was initially written as a more essayish entry in a hidden blog. But now that I’m unemployed, ya’ll can read it:

Dan is bringing our food, and I want to say hello to him, ask him how his holiday was, see what he’s been up to, but my dinner companion never stops talking.

I’m waiting for the pause, a silent beat that never comes, and despite our eye contact ready and locked in for conversation, Dan eventually has to pull away and do his job elsewhere, an eye flutter and smirk as he moves on. The eye flutter always gets me. Dan is so cute.

A few minutes later, Dan is refilling my iced tea, the one he always has on my table before he ever comes by to take drink orders, the one he never charges me for, and again, I get in a thank you while he does it, but my friend keeps talking through it all.

It doesn’t take long to figure out. When I see Dan, I see someone who is becoming a friend whom I know from his recent thrust into being single after being in a long term relationship, his career shift from doing product design to being a waiter trying to start his own T-shirt business. My friend sees that his drink needed to be refilled.

And, in that one meal, I know I’m in for a lot of change ahead.

*

I’m an unlikely bartender.

Actually, let me rephrase that, seeing as I am not even a bartender yet. I am an unlikely person to want to become a bartender. I’m not really into mixed drinks unless they are fruity and contain rum, I tend to dislike going to bars because of the loud music, high-priced drinks, and the required social skills that I’ve underdeveloped. I don’t appreciate alcohol, as far as wanting wine with my meal, or to pair an amazing dessert with a sweet luxurious wine. I never had a beer, aside from one I somewhat ingested once to shut someone up. To show that I wasn’t afraid of it. I just knew I wouldn’t like it.

But within the next six months, the plan is to leave my high-paying, soul-scarring job writing marketing materials for a software company and become a bartender. Even within my family, the career move has been reluctantly accepted, the ifs and whys now just becoming whens, although candles in Pennsylvania churches are still being lit on behalf of my planned career move.

And, don’t get me wrong, it is a spooky move. I don’t know how to be a bartender. I will be sacrificing as much as $60,000 a year in the process. I will have a job that causes me to be sore instead of bored. My cube-dwelling, pampered hands will callous. There are dormant arm muscles I’ll need to constantly pick up bottle after bottle after bottle, and they aren’t developed yet. There will be petty dramas over schedules. I will have to work on days when I have better options. And I don’t know if I will make enough money to live anywhere near the standard of living to which I have become accustomed.

The worst part is right now, though. The waiting. It’s like a hot guy I’ve been chasing telling me we’re going to have amazing sex three months from now. You can’t really do anything in the meantime.

Somehow, despite having amazing amounts of money and obviously not putting it into furniture, clothes, vacations, stocks, or anything tangible, I have credit card debt. At the time of this writing, it is almost gone, after which I will need to start saving money. I want to start a new life, but not without some safety net.

But, the thing about saving money is… it’s boring as all hell. I just basically go to my job as per usual and twice a month, I keep so much money to live, and put the rest on a credit card bill. And then I go back to working for another half month, and then repeat the process.

Like a good yuppie, I have tried to overeducate myself on bartending. Not by actually learning how to mix drinks, of course. Just reading memoirs of bartenders. Everything I suspected is true, and really, why would I expect to be surprised? Long hours. Grueling work. Bad schedules.

This might be a romanticized notion, but I can’t wait to come home sore from work. I’ve done factory work before, so I know what it feels like even though it’s been a while. Just having a job with some physicality, as opposed to sitting in a cube getting softer each year, really appeals to me. Lifting boxes of beer. And just pushing myself into some zen-like state through peak times, once my muscle memory learns how to make drinks, and just reaching out in some perfect rhythm and barely registering what I’m doing. I can’t wait until that happens. There is no middle ground as far as how people view bartenders, you are either good or suck. All of which is based on how you are handling their drink needs. Swamped doesn’t matter. Everything is egocentric in a bar. Everyone wants their drinks now so they can get back out and interact with friends or someone they want to befriend that night. You are the help. The cog between them and inebriation. The provider of social lubricant.

*

I found myself being rather classist about the whole bartender thing when I first got on this path. It was mainly information gathering, but now I see that the questions would have come across as belittling. I had wanted to use them on some waiter and bartender acquaintances, but thankfully never got the chance before I realized how they would sound.

I wanted to get a sense of how many hours you’d work, how much you rely on tips, how much more bars paid, but the overall thing I was trying to decipher was ‘can I afford to live doing this?’

It still bothers me when I think how it could have been interpreted, because I would be asking people who make their living in the service industry whether someone could make a living in the service industry.

The question is only valid up to a point, after which you aren’t asking whether a living can be made, but how much will be lost in the process.

How much of how I defined myself through money will have to be cut off? How much unlearning will need to occur? How much will I need to learn? Will I still be able to do this, see that, taste these?

In a nutshell, will I still be able to live like me, or will I have to learn to live like you?

Playing off the recent question of where my money went happened this morning, since it was payday, and all I did was channel $1800 over to my credit card. Leaving a few hundred for me to make it to the end of the month.

It brought up similar questions as before, the whole where did I used to spend all my money, and then, as if by cue, a FedEx package arrived at my desk. I open it up, and inside are three bottles of wine.

Oh yes, my 2000 Late Harvest Semillion from Van Der Hayden Vineyards. Jeremy and I both bought futures in this wine about two years ago, at $75 a bottle, with a three bottle minimum. Now, the wine costs $125 at the winery, so we did get a great deal, I mean $50 off per bottle is amazing, but… $225 on wine? Yikes. And I have no room for them, because I have so much wine here. I guess I’m finding “some” of my old money.

Other news, no pay raise coming, which is odd. When they were doing reviews in December, they announced in public meetings that the pay raises wouldn’t kick in until February, but would be retroactive until January 1. You would think that would mean everyone was getting something? Nope. We just know someone else is. More great motivation.

Now, I have been on the record that I don’t want more money because that usually means more responsibility. But I’ve been getting more responsibility, so bring on the cash.

My boss did say she would try to make up for it with options. Guess there’s no way to indicate the options will never matter, since I won’t be here a year later when they vest. Oh well… hopefully the market will have an uptick and I can make up for this by selling the options I do have. We’ll see.

Been removing a few conveniences lately…

Today, I called PayTrust and canceled my membership, which means my bills will once again start coming to… my home, and need to be paid… with stamps. Of course, once I have $5K in the bank, I can activate Bill Pay there and forgo the stamp part for no charge, but not until there is $5K there so it isn’t a new monthly fee.

I am down to only paying about fix or six bills a month, so I am basically paying $8.95 to Paytrust, and $3 to Wells Fargo, so save less than $2 in postage and the inconvenience of having to pay bills. Oh well, too bad.

I also canceled Netflix, since I tend to see most movies in the theater, which means my NetFlix watching has mainly been movies I didn’t get around to seeing in the theater, weird independent movies, and TV series. So, I think I am better served without Netflix. The only problem is… I can’t find one of my rentals. I have to get it to them this week, or I own it, so I really should finish this post and go dig through things.

I also e-mailed Van Der Hayden Vineyards and canceled my wine club membership, so that is another thing that is leaving, but that is expensive wine coming quarterly. I’d rather make wines like that something for special occassions, and not just have bottles and bottled of it sitting around the house.

Selling gay pulp fiction on eBay, and always looking for the next thing that will end up on eBay.

Oddly enough, with all the little fixing ups I am doing around the house, I also just put it out there that my friend Darrel, who is looking for a place, could consider me a third roomate if they found a great palce and needed it. I’m not sure I’d be up for moving, but I am certainly up for being off the hook for an additional $300 a month, and if the bedroom were large enough, why not? I’ve never really done the roommate thing, but that is much saner than finding two strangers. Doubt it will happen, but I think they are trying to make a 3BR into a twosome, but that does make the rent high. We’ll see.

In the opposite direction, I am scrolling through craigslist to find new furniture for my apartment. So, I guess my bases are covered either way. I basically need to have the apartment visitor-friendly so that when I detox from my movies, theater, concerts, movies, plays, stand-up comedy, movies, spoken word, movies, book readings, movies, etc. mindset, I have a place where I can invite friends over. Right now, the living room is a bit… spartan.

Actually, that is the most amazing thing about this change of life. I look around… and wonder, where the hell has my money gone? The apartment isn’t quite done. My wardrobe, well, anything lacking in that department is more connected to the body I don’t want to dress nicely, but still it is an expense I haven’t incurred. My passport isn’t stamped with all these exotic locales. And, on top of my inflated salary, I spent a lot of the past year paying off DEBT on top of everything else. I’m not saving now because I’m just finishing off the debt. But… I am nearly at a loss as to how this happened. Could I really have seen this many concerts, plays, movies, and everything else? It doesn’t seem possible.

I think this whole thing will be worthwhile just for the sake of reality, if nothing else. i know I have said things in the past like, “Yikes, I only have $300 and it’s five days to pay day,” and meant it. And, for the life of me, i can’t imagine why that was a problem. I used to withdraw $100 or $120 whenever i went to the ATM, now it’s $20 or 40. So, novel aside, this is a change that needed to occur.

I think a lot of my friends must have thought I was crazy. I think I was crazy. But it is all coming back to normal. Soon, I will get bills in the mail, pay them; see concert listings and think it is too pricy to go, not to mention I just saw them last tour; and restaurants with $24 entrees may seem WAY over the top, let alone going to the French Laundry for another meal anytime soon.

Bills. Aparment projects. Wine clubs. It’s mainly just little bullshit like this that consumes my time lately. But I am, admittedly, running out of stuff like this to do. Back to the book soon, so i just want to have all of this minutiae cleared up by then.

And, no, it isn’t procrastination this time. The book will be top focus next week. So, I have this week to mess around.

I am now on the new budget, although it isn’t entirely switched over to replicate my next life. I am still paying the rent from one paycheck. I need to start chopping up every paycheck, so that I have to save $460 from each pay to pay the rent, as opposed to living off of one paycheck and saving the other, because it does allow for more illegal dipping into checking.

Of course, the incentive for saving money is high. The quicker the money is saved, the quicker I leave my job.

There are a lot of options as far as what may or may not contribute financially to my leaving. I have a bunch of stock options that may or may not be worth anything, as our stock recently tanked. The stock is at $20.44 today, and I have options at $12, $18, and $28. the $12s don’t kick in until March, so I can’t trade any of those. The $18s are barely worth anything, so it’s a better gamble to wait, and the $28s… well, they will likely be sold to just offset any gains made on the other two. But who knows, I’ve got a few months yet.

The trip home went well, a lot of people are apprehensive and concerned about the move, but it was nearly universally supported. Some people mentioned that they aren’t used to hearing of someone plan changing their life and careers like this without getting laid off or something first, so it was interesting to watch. My one grandmother seemed to interpret my holiday letter to me being “mad at the world,” but that was an isolated interpretation, and one I wasn’t allowed to refute.

So, already started packing lunches, and have to keep remembering to mention wanting to leave this place, so that it doesn’t seem odd that I am not saying that anymore. I’m hoping to be gone by June.

Some Christmas gifts will certainly help in that regard. I got gift certificates for the local movie theater, vegan restaurant, and Amazon, to try and reduce my living expenses as much as possible. Skipping a lot of concerts, too. Only two on the horizon are Starsailor and Rufus Wainwright.

Only planned expenses are any incidentals to get my apartment updated. The living room needs some pieces, and I will be finishing off the kitchen, too. Only aesthetic makeovers, though. Nothing too radical, since I only rent.

Just sent out my holiday cards this week, with the letter that usually accompanies it, and in the letter, I told all my friends and family that I am quitting my job this year.

It’s a big step, and one I’m sure that will be heavily-discussed when I’m in Pennsylvania for a few weeks. But, it’s not really a debate, it’s as well-thought-out as it will ever be.

When I think of the fear, uncertainty, angst, and everything else that accompanies such a big life decision, I just think of my deathbed. (Cheery, huh?) I think of myself looking back on my life and what I did, and that I tried to live the best life I could. It’s like people say, no one wishes they spent more time at the office, or any of the stuff we pretend that matters. It is about people, and love, and happiness, and (for me in this moment) pursuing my dreams.

And, honestly, it is scary. All change is. Moving to San Francisco was scary. I moved here without a job, and just 10 grand to my name. I am quitting Macromedia with more money than that, and I will have a job when I leave, as well. So, it is not a daring move on the same level.

I just got my annual review this week, and it was interesting knowing it was my last one. My boss gave me a higher grade than my self-review. Said I had a job there as long as I wanted it, even though she knows I am just there for a paycheck. Work quality is always good, though. That’s all that matters. Sure, i could be nicer there, take on more work, etc., etc., but that doesn’t interest me. Everything I write for them is 180 degrees opposite of my attitude about the job. That is all I care about. There is some sort of a work ethic in there.

One other thing that interests me, and this sounds crazy, but I love the thought of doing a job that is physical. Sitting in a cube and having a job that is entirely mental, for some reason, doesn’t cut it for me. I love the thought of having to carry stuff, lift things… I remember when i worked in a factory and just feeling sore at the end of your shift and feeling accomplishment in that. Call me crazy, but that had an odd satisfaction for me.

One thing that will have to go into overdrive in the new year, is losing weight. Most of the restaurants I want to work at, due to location, are in the Castro. Castro restaurants have a largely gay clientele. So, being some chunky dude is a career killer. Not that I need any more reasons to dump the weight already.

I’ve been transcribing the Thailand stuff into the computer all week, in case I want to write when I’m in Pennsylvania. Still liking it, so that makes me happy. Started using ViaVoice, so I usually write one chapter out by hand, and then transcribe one using ViaVoice. I’m not sure if it faster, or that it makes it fun but takes a bit longer. But as long as pages are getting into the system, I don’t care.

Also realized the “block” with the book, if you can call it that. More dumb shit. I only write it here as a note to myself in the future. It seemed I was pushign the characters and I felt like i was floundering and unsure of how the characters would react in these new situations. Finally, it hits me. They shouldn’t be in these situations. You just rushed the ending, didn’t build up to it properly, and now you’re writing past where this book is supposed to go. So, basically, the last thing I wrote in thailand *IS* the last chapter of the book. I’m not sure if that just happened because my brain knew that was the end and wanted me to get it written down in time, or whether I rushed the ending and hadn’t realized it. In any event, the book has an ending, but it needs to be set up better. So, I just need to back up and fill that part in.

Part of me thinks I’m learning a lot on this first novel, and that it will make the second one go faster. Another part of me thinks I’m going to go through this with every book, and I need to accept all of these missteps, second guessing, wrong directions, and confusion as part of the process. Maybe there’s some happy medium between the two.

Anyway, didn’t mean to go off on a writing tangent… but there is an odd feeling knowing that everyone in my life knows I plan to leave my job this year. Not that I’m shy about discussing it.

My guess is that half a dozen people back home try and suggest middle ground (as has happened already), whereby I see about working 15 hours for Macromedia or something. But that just isn’t a viable option.

The reason I am drawn to bartending, or being a waiter, or anything like that, is the lack of persistent thought. For example, I know all weekend hat i need to do at work on Monday, and what press releases are going out the following Monday, and that I am trying to wrap things up before the holidays for the announcement going out January 5, and what is coming in February… it is always churning in the back of my mind.

Bartending, as I see it now, although I may be entirely wrong, is entirely in the present. You will know when you have to work, but beyond that you show up, they order, you make a drink, and it’s over. Nothing needs to rent space in my head. I love that.

This is the first entry of many that I will be writing and not publishing on the main site. They are being written because I plan to leave my job in mid-2004 and want a record of things. They are all being written with the category tag of “leaving my job” so that when these entries are eventually merged into the other weblog (after I quit), people can sort them easily and catch up on things.

Anyway, one of the things I was contemplating in Thailand was my future, in many respects. I really dislike my job. the people are fine, but on one hand you get the sense that the well isn’t deep for future fictional exploits. I need to be around people, out in the world. Office jobs are the same people, not enough interaction with other people and the topic tends to be work. Constantly. This move also has repercussions beyond writing books, arguably much more important ones, like getting me dating and out in the world more.

But more important than anything is that I’m not happy there. Every morning, it is a chore to get up the will to go in, and I only don’t call off more often because I think it is bad to do karmically since I tend to be healthy. So, I go in and try and make it through the day, but it is really just counting down eight hours every day. Well, seven and a half. Heh.

If it were less taxing and I could actually squirrel myself away and write my novel on their dime, I would. But it is bothersome enough that writing my stuff wouldn’t work there. But the real downside is that what little work I actually do there seems to tap into whatever shallow well of energy I need to write what I actually want to write.

Now, I’ll be the first one to admit that this was a convenient cop-out. In much the same way that I can insist that I would be an amazing guitar player had I not banged up my left elbow so that I can’t hold the guitar right, the “I would be writing an amazing novel if I didn’t have this pesky day job” could also be filed away as another tale of woe that will never be proven.

Except my job was good enough to give me a sabbatical. And, although I laid around and was contemplative for about the first third of it (usually thinking of ways to focus on my career as a novelist and not my sick, pathetic job writing corporate yammering nonsense for a software company), eventually I realized that I had something that usually wasn’t available to me, an abundance of time.

So, I wrote. One chapter per day. For 34 days.

34 chapters in all.

And, I have to admit, I had a great time. When I shut off the world and stayed locked in my apartment most evenings last year (earlier this year? I forget anymore, it’s all in the diary on the other site), the writing happened, but it wasn’t inspired. I was inspired TO write, but the writing itself didn’t have that spark. It didn’t leap off the page with life.

In Thailand, the writing was pure joy. I laughed out loud as I wrote some chapters, but even beyond that, there was just a subtext of happiness floating under the words. And that was what was missing for so long.

So, my job giving me a sabbatical confirmed my decision that I need to leave my job.

But, being old and cautious (young and foolish isn’t an option anymore), I have to hang on for a bit, pay off some debt, save up some money, and prepare to make a clean break as soon as possible. I’m hoping to do it before summer; the tighter the budget, the quicker the freedom.

This decision has been met with some criticism, I suppose. It is actually surprising to see who ends up on what side of the fence on this issue. Some people I thought would be all “Do what makes you happy” are very concerned with the whimsy of leaving a rather high-paying job. Others are all, “That’s great” and supportive.

The most constant theme, though, is that I don’t know if I can be a novelist, or make enough money at it to have “a living.” And the truth is, the odds of me making huge bank as a writer anytime soon are rather bleak. But the only way to grow as a writer is to write more, learn the craft, etc., etc. I am explicitly leaving my job with the goal to be a bartender that is trying to become a writer. It isn’t a recess until I make a ton of cash with a novel. The odds are very good that I will be pouring drinks through several novels.

Some people want me to try and sell H@e first, but if I do that, it means I will be dry when it sells, as opposed to having a second book in some form at that point. Some people want me to try and get a part time gig where I work now. For many people, the goal seems to be how little change I can make to get by. But, it is like being lost in the jungle. When you know you’re going the wrong way, you don’t turn three degrees in either direction and keep walking, you make an abrupt turn. 90 degrees right, 90 degrees left, or a complete 180.

Thinking back, it is unfortunate how long my “fall back” careers were in play. In colelge, i was working on a screenplay, and journalism was meant to be the safer career to fall back on, but then somehow i ended up doing it. So, I am basically resorting to the original plan of writing for me. I don’t want any writing gigs to help pay the bills. When I launch Microsoft Word, it will be entirely to write for myself.

There will also be no writing classes, public readings, e-mailed chapters or anything else anymore. I don’t want to let anything out into the world until I’m done with it. It derails the process and I’m removing anything that get me off track. I’m glad people ask and want to read stuff, but the process isn’t interesting, the end result is. You’ll have a much better time when it is finishd than knowing how it evolved. There’s usually a good reason things get deleted.

That is something else that changed. It changed a while ago, but I’m not sure I noticed it at the time. Or it changed too gradually to be obvious. I really am less concerned with publishing than writing anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I have every intention of trying to sell my books. But, the focus shifted. Now I am writing my books for me. When I complete H@e, the finish line will be crossed. The victory mine.

I noticed this when people said I should wait and hang on to my job to see if I can sell the first book before making any big decisions.

But the overarching theme here, and this is beyond work and beyond wanting to write, is that I’m not happy there. I mean, that alone is enough reason to get out.

Oh well, enough for now. And, of course, keep this a secret.