As I suggested yesterday, I’ve bene thinking it’s coming close to time to upgrade myself, to find my way to the new version.
To review: insert “COVID completely shut down my industry” speech here. I fully expected to return to work eventually. Actually, I fully expected to return to work before now. When we left work near the end of March, we were collectively predicting 8-10 weeks. When that much time had passed, with the pandemic not under control yet but trending in my province like it was going to improve and the precautions we were all taking were making a difference, the people I had contact with were now anticipating no later than Labour Day.
I’m no longer anticipating going back. That wasn’t my decision.
I do understand it, looking at things from a corporate financial perspective. If the business itself is still unknown and my piece of it isn’t going to open for a while even after the business gets to relaunch, why keep me dangling? It may make a great deal of sense to give me a little severance and hire someone else to do the job in however many months from now they actually need someone.
Whenever that is. My predictions on things haven’t exactly been hits so far and I look at how the government is moving on regulations, do a little back of the envelope math, and come to the conclusion that it’s going to be a while yet.
So I’m not angry and I’m not unhappy. Ultimately, I’m not even disappointed. I’m already looking at this as a good thing for me.
But it does leave a big gap in my world at the moment. There’s this large chapter of my life that’s unexpectedly over and if I’ve been feeling that I might need something of a change in the next few years, the timeframe on that change just leapt ahead into the present.
Here’s what I know:
- I’m suddenly free to choose a new path.
- I like being home more and available for my family more.
- I have an incredible and supportive family.
- I have dreams I want to pursue.
- I need my life and activities to have meaning and, ultimately, to help me make some small piece of the world a better place.
The question then becomes what path and what dreams? I have a little breathing space to consider my options but some of those paths would be better jumped on just due to what time of year it is, so there is time pressure involved, or could be. This is a chance to reboot, reinvent, rebuild, but do I want to stress myself trying to make the decision too quickly? Am I already? It’s not like I haven’t been thinking about things, fleshing out those dreams, for years, so maybe making the decision quickly shouldn’t bother me so much. Maybe I’ve been on the way to making this decision for a decade or so.
And really, I think things actually come down to only two basic paths, maybe even with a little space for sightseeing and detours, and they both contain a lot of the same stuff, just blended differently.
Which means, maybe, I’m asking myself a different question.
Can I have all the dreams?
Stay safe and be well, everyone.by
by It’s very unusual for me to remember my dreams, or even that I had dreams at all, which is partly why I feel the need to share this one.
I wander into a hotel that happens to be hosting a Science Fiction convention. Signage identifies it as Philcon (where I’ve never been but hear good things) and the colour scheme of the walls, carpet, and furniture is a variety of dark reds.
It’s very early in the con and many things are still being set up, but there are people lining up for panels and a large amphitheatre type room starting to fill for a special presentation of some kind. As I wander down one aisle, I come across a booth labelled Silver Surfer Pickles, where Stan Lee is sitting having lunch by himself. No one seems to have noticed. There are also no pickles present.
But since it’s Stan Lee, and he’s by himself, I walk up to the booth and say hello. He’s quite friendly and we spend several minutes talking until I look down at his lunch to see that it consists entirely of sliced red pickles.
Of course I asked, and Mr. Lee explained that these were from an earlier trial batch. They tasted great, but came out the wrong colour. The process is down now and the silver ones would be arriving at any moment. Either way, I thought they were an interesting idea and mentioned that my wife (who has a fondness for all kinds of pickled things) would probably love them.
He suspiciously looked around then hunched over an empty jar with a black marker. When he straightened up again, he’d signed (and personalized) the label, slipping it into a small box which he then pressed it into my hands. A forklift came stuttering down the aisle with a skid of shrink wrapped pickle jars and Mr. Lee told me to make sure I came back to try the real thing.
We shook hands and I wandered off down the aisle to the sound of breaking glass, clutching my treasure.
Strange that I woke up just then. I wonder what I planned to do with the jar.by