I thought I was all done with Santa Clarita. Yesterday, I went in to drop off a brochure -- my last connection with it all. Had on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, too, as if thumbing my nose at it. But then I got a call while having lunch at the food court in the mall.
"What? You want me for another month or two?" I gasped.
Fortunately, I hadn't driven home yet, because they wanted me in right away. Even in my shorts and T-shirt.
Seriously, I thought I was done with the gig. I wanted to end it. But it wouldn't let me go. And so I made the emails to the appropriate parties saying I wouldn't be available. How long? I don't know, but for a while.
I realize it's going to be rough for the next month or so, driving to and from Magic Mountain land. I'll have to avoid going home right after work because of the Hollywood Bowl traffic. And I'll continue to spend about $9 a day in gas doing the commute in my damn SUV.
But I don't know what's going on with my life right now. On the one hand, I like it that someone needs me so bad. On the other, I'm sort of abandoning everything I've known. All my passions, all my enjoyments, and everything familiar.
Yesterday, someone said they'll try to get me to stay longer and longer until I've been there so long, I'll just stay out of habit. My resistance will be worn thin and then I'll just give in.
Sure, this gig provides plenty of my personal needs, but long term, is it really what I want? No, I know what I want long term and this isn't it.
But in all practicality, I should probably just drink the Kool-Aid. Give in. And slowly lose all sense of myself, my being, and how I thought life should be.