Insomniac

There definitely appears to be a connection with going into the office to clean up my cubicle and insomnia. Even though I felt quite good and productive while I was there, and was confident that my self-esteem was unassailable after last night's gig, at 2 am I awoke, my brain aswirl with thoughts. As I lay there, my husband laughed in his sleep, then woke up himself. "Why were you laughing?" I asked. "I was dreaming that I was traveling through Mexico with a Russian guy. Whenever I couldn't remember his name, I'd say 'Hey, Rasputin.' But he didn't like that. He said Rasputin was a bad guy. I said, 'Like a Republican or a Democrat?' 'Republican,' he said." Then Emilio fell back asleep and I lay there watching how a swaying branch made the street light flicker and wondering if he'd remember his dream in the morning.

Not to be overdramatic, but the pariah effect of being laid off is quite interesting. It's subtle, to be sure, but amazing when people you have known for 10 years suddenly have that shaded look in their eyes when you walk past. If I try I can thaw them out. I was needing some help to transfer computer files and was told that the person who laid me off would need to look over my shoulder to make sure I wasn't stealing anything. Now, this made little sense in that I was given two weeks notice, not escorted out of the building, so I've had plenty of opportunity to steal electronic files already, not to mention a plethora of methods at my disposal. What I do need is to take my portfolio of 10 years of writing and other projects with me so I can get another job.

I guess it's an insight into what happens whenever misfortune befalls someone. Perhaps it's human nature to avoid the person, make sure whatever they've got--divorce, disease, destitution--isn't catching. I wrote an editorial about "workplace mobbing" once on a tip from a reader, and it was very popular. For months after it was published people sent me stories of being forced out, laid off or worse for whistle-blowing or simply not fitting in. It also occurs to me (and this is one aspect that keeps me awake) that people assume I've done something to deserve this. And since there's been no official communication to the contrary, there's nothing to dispel that notion. Heck, they might think, she's probably been slacking for years and they finally got rid of her. I realize that that's a sort of type A concern--I put so much of myself into my job, so it hurts to have it taken away and feel any implication of criticism or ineffectiveness. And finally, I realize that most people just don't give it a thought at all. I'm not part of their universe anymore so why say hi. These are all excellent reminders for being a more enlightened person.

As I walked to the bus through the gauntlet of homeless folks who live under the transbay station, one of them said to me, "How was your holiday? Good?" I kept walking but replied, "Yes, it was good actually. How about yours?" "Well, I woke up," he called after me.

Again, I don't want to be too self-pitying. Six people came from work last night to see the Yoshi's gig, but were turned away at the door because the first show was sold out. I don't think they were able to stay for the second show, but I really appreciated them coming.

It's just that this is such an anticlimactic way to end a decade in one's life. As always, it could be worse in large (homelessness) and small ways. Helen, the sweet woman in the deli downstairs, was railing about the most recent layoffs. "They always get rid of the best people. A woman the other day told me she'd worked for your company for 23 years and they laid her off. Twenty-three years of her life, wasted, she said."