Home Alone

Thomas Wolfe once said you can’t go home again.

Or maybe it was The Moody Blues.

But either way, I can go home again.

And I did.

Sure, it wasn’t the way I drew it up.

But I’m back.

Back at the scene of the crime.

Back in the city where my career ended.

The first time.

Back in my old stomped on grounds.

In a different house.

But the same city.

A city where I know where to find the best burger.

The best tamales.

The best $4 cup of coffee.

For $2.

You know, the important things.

I’ve been back for three+ months now, but it is still weird.

Weird to be back.

Home.

If that’s what this is.

I was supposed to be in New York right now.

That was my destiny.

Um... destiny schmestiny.

So much for those best laid plans.

Was that Thomas Wolfe too?

Sure there are a lot of advantages to being back.

But there is one giant disadvantage.

The constant reminder of going back.

As in backwards.

A year ago at this time I was without a job.

Filling my days at home, with something.

A year later, I am without a job.

Filling my days at home, with....

Something.

Sure, there are things I love to do with all that free time.

Many things.

Like anything with the kids.

Band practice.

Working out.

Going to Costco.

But what I don’t like is that constant feeling of coulda, woulda, shoulda.

Sometimes it feels like I never left.

Did I really spend three months in New York?

Or was that just a dream?

Or a nightmare?

I have the blogs to prove I was there.

I think.

And I also have the scar.

Covering up the other scar.

All-in-all, I will NEVER regret my time in New York.

I wish my family would’ve been with me.

But it was one of the most amazing times of my life.

I saw Jersey Boys.

Twice.

Nothing better than that.

But the time here?

Home.

I can’t say the same.

Ok, the first four years were good.

Sometimes great.

But still, to think of the careers.

Of my thirty co-workers.

Friends.

Executed, with no notice.

That’s a moment I will never forgive.

Or forget.

And yes, I realize that carrying a grudge is as healthy for me as one of those burgers.

Or seven of those tamales.

I still carry that grudge with me.

Everywhere I go in this town.

And I hate it.

Just the thought of where I used to work makes me sick.

I was told “that’s business, get over it.”

I was told that 33 hours after we were all blindsided.

Told that by the guy who cowardly let his people get wiped out.

And he’s still there.

Working in the same job.

Every day.

Like nothing ever happened.

Karma, are you listening?

Don’t get me wrong, I wish no ill will on anyone.

Not even him.

Really.

But I have always believed that people get what they deserve.

Good or bad.

Eventually.

I still have some friends who still work with that company.

Well, facebook friends.

I don’t really talk to them.

I don’t want to talk to them.

It’s definitely a case of “it’s not you, it’s me.”

These are good people who are just trying to make a car payment.

I’m the one who can’t get over it.

I’m the one who had a former co-worker walk in front of my car the other day while I was parked at Costco.

And instead of lifting my head to say hello.

I looked down.

And let her walk by.

I’m the one who saw a former co-worker at the gym today.

And instead of saying hello.

And faking a smile.

I walked the other way.

It’s really not a good feeling.

And definitely not a proud feeling.

But it’s a feeling.

A feeling that won’t go away.

And I was once told that you can control your actions.

But you can’t fight your feelings.

I think that was Thomas Wolfe.

Or maybe REO Speedwagon.