June 30th

I found out last Friday that I was not being offered a contract at the Drew School for the following year. My position is being restructured with either more accounting or database experience and will no longer be a full-time position, but a seasonal one. My contract ends on June 30th, so here's to changing life plans again.

I've been trying to keep a good face on it, and really there's a lot of benefits that I can find, truly a lot, but I cant deny that there is a certain amount of depression-type feelings that surround that situation.

I dunno, I'm pushing through and looking at other things. I can still apply to grad school at USF for the fall, but I'll also need to figure out how to pay for it.

Even within the sadness and the loss, I feel more like myself, I'm working on controlling the self-destructive behavior that I know comes from life changes as this.

And oddly, I'm having a problem with feeling entirely unwanted. Every once and a while someone will make me feel pretty special, but damn, I've never felt so unnecessary at life as I have in the past month or so.

Looking forward to this passing.

A little poem

I wrote this little ditty at some point over the summer with BAM...and I've been meaning to post it here but kept loosing it in piles of paper until I founding it my most recent room cleaning and am now quite excited to show it.

The writing exercise that I gave them asked them to use a phrase and a picture to do a creative writing piece, the phrase was "This is the face of..." and then there was a picture of a ship in a harbor. Looking back, it's not as awesome as I had thought it was, but I think perhaps I was more excited to have busted this out in ten minutes than about the quality itself.


This is the face of briny brilliance,
A salty serenade to lives lost and hemorrhaging memories,
The crisp crack of crustacean claws,
Clamoring for safety,
A last cry for help,
And its then that I know these mysterious creatures of the sea are not so different from ourselves,

This is the face of seaweed sinews,
The kind that survive the tirades of waters meant to brutalize brick wals,
These limbs have clung to the edge,
Whil i vocalized my own version of click-clacky claws,
Grasping only for the hope,
Of a rope made of synthetic substitutes,
For the fibers of festering fragility,

This is the face of rocking resilliance,
The calcium carbonic manifestations of structures not meant for 9 to 5 chains,
I've made my bargain with my make,
My reckless abandon for the favor of fresh catch on our deck,
This sea and I, we breath the same salty scourge and know we are inevitable.