Finally!

A place to get my whiskers styled for a fancy evening out.

So today sucked. My company laid off 30% of the Network staff (you're defined in my company as being Network or Traffic). I'm thankful--really--that I'm not part of that, but all remaining employees are being asked to take a salary cut. Granted, it's not a 100% cut in salary, but it still hurts.

Let me explain something: I'm about to celebrate my nine-year anniversary with The Company. Nine years. I've been employed with The Company longer than Seinfeld was on the air. Longer than All in the Family. Anyway, I went from 2002 until 2008 without any kind of pay increase. I moved into a safe (meaning not ghetto) house in a better (no hate crimes) neighborhood in a city with a higher cost of living with no adjustment to my income. Again, I reminded myself that at least they were letting me keep my job. Then last year I was given some good news: I got a 3% raise. My company recognized my increased job duties and supervisory skills in an area where I had absolutely no desire to become versed and awarded me a 3% increase in my worth.

Too bad this was right on the heels of daycare tuition increases making the whole thing a moot point.

Where was I? Oh yeah, 3% in six years. So, in exchange for my job, they're reducing my salary by 5%. Not only did my raise really get negated, but they took more than they gave me in the first place. I make less today in 2009 than I did in 2002; I'm worth less. I'm worthless.

Thanks Westwood One. Thanks Shane, Peter and Tom (page 5). You guys are the best. Enjoy the remaining 1-3 years left on your contracts that we still legally have to pay you millions of dollars for. Appreciate it.

Dickheads.

Do you remember?

An old friend got married this weekend.

We went to the wedding in Austin and I was asked that Will not attend. He wasn't specifically singled out as not being invited: it was a small beautiful wedding in an old elegant hotel and kids and these situations don't go hand-in-hand. It hurt, though. It hurt because the bride is one of my oldest friends and we live such separate lives but, every time we talk, she always comments that, no matter how long it's been since we've been in touch, we always go back to the way we used to be together.

We don't, though. She would have met my two-and-a-half year old little boy by now if we're the way we used to be. I would have met her husband before the wedding if we're the way we used to be. I feel like we'd be part of each other's lives more--or at all--if we were the way we used to be.

I actually went into this weekend not looking forward to the event at all. My feelings were hurt that this woman, who was once so important in my life that she stood as the maid of honor at my wedding, hadn't asked me to be a part of hers in any form. I was annoyed that I wasn't invited to a shower, but my mother was. I was annoyed that I was being asked to attend and to have my son excluded. I was annoyed that she was, essentially, asking me to choose between her and another friend by scheduling her most important day on the other's birthday.

I'm glad I went to the wedding.

It really was beautiful, the bride was stunning as always, but even more so since she is madly in love with her husband. I can honestly say I'm thrilled for her--I've always wanted her to be happy and she really seems to be. Her husband seems like a really sweet man who wants nothing more in the world than to make and keep her happy.

The whole time at the reception I felt like I was saying good-bye. The alcohol had a lot to do with that, I will freely admit. I cried when the bride danced with her father and I cried even harder when I danced with mine. I felt good about her--and our relationship to this point--when we left the reception and drunkenly made our way back to our hotel. I told her I've missed her friendship and the way we used to be. I told her good-bye and her husband to take care of her.

I don't know where we'll go from here. I'm sure I'll still get mass text-messages from her on holidays, but that's more than she gets from me. I'll still send her Christmas and birthday cards, but that's more than I get from her. I'll still get my feelings hurt when she doesn't acknowledge my son's birthday. She'll still get her feelings hurt when I call to wish her a happy birthday at 11pm the day of. We'll continue to live our lives separately and remember what we used to be.

I do want her to be happy. I want her to have a good life. But I want to remember that it's okay that friendships drift apart and you become different people. It's not bad, it's not meant to be cruel; it's just a natural part of life. The friendship has reached it's expiration date. I think we're there and I need to admit that it's okay to let it go.

I don't know if I can though. Because as I write this I'm sad and teary. And I don't know if that's because I think a large part of the way we are now is because of me. And I hate feeling like I've let someone down in that way. Because she has been there for me, been a real and true friend, through some crappy parts of my life. And I don't know that I've done that for her.