Fruit of the LOOMS.

All things loom, underneath.

Underwear.

Laid bare.

LOOMS.

Fuck.

Shit show.

My anxiety skyrockets. My anger boils.

Underneath.

I control myself as best I can.

I calm myself as best I can.

But it LOOMS.

It happened. More cuts.

The department whittled down to just four.

I don’t know what is going to come with it. I don’t know what direction it’ll go.

I guess I’ll know more today.

The meeting.

Our direction.

It won’t be a fun meeting.

No good can come from this.

It’ll probably be a meeting that will make me boil over and I’ll do something rash.

I don’t know.

Can I control myself?

Will cooler heads prevail?

I’m an Aries.

No cool heads around here.

I’m me.

No cool heads around here.

Magic 8 Ball: Future is uncertain.

My fucking future is uncertain all right.

Very. Fucking. Uncertain.

Very.

Fucking.

Uncertain.

Control.

Calm.

Breathe.

In/Out.

In.

Out.

Cool heads will prevail.

There are no cool heads around here.

A huge part of me. The righteous side wants to just quit.

Fuck it.

Fuck it all.

Down with it all.

Just fucking quit.

But the reasonable/sane side is like. No.

Not yet.

Not with nothing lined up.

Head down.

Truck along at a minimum.

Find something.

Find something then go.

FUCK.

Had the meeting.

I pretended that it was the first time hearing about the news, but I’ve known for a few days already.

What a fucked-up situation.

He wants me to reach out and communicate if I’m not happy. He’s an ally and will do everything to make me happy and keep me at the agency.

Empty words.

Empty.

LOOMS.

Even if it isn’t, there’s no point in wanting to keep me since I don’t want to be there.

I’m already out the door.

I’m already gone.

Minimal effort.

He says not much is going to change in my day-to-day. I can push things off to Helpdesk.

We shall see.

I don’t believe it.

I don’t care.

I’m ready.

Done.

Gone.

Done.

Over.

What’s going to happen in the coming weeks, months?

I don’t know.

I’ll take it a day at a time.

I’ll take it a task at a time.

I’ll do what I need to do.

No more. No less.

If they don’t like it.

That’s fine.

They don’t have to like it, like I don’t have to like what’s happening to the agency.

Our values definitely do not align.

I AM FIRE

I AM RETIRED

I AM A HOMEOWNER

I AM OPEN TO NEW ABUNDANCE

I AM OPEN TO NEW OPPORTUNITIES.

I AM ALREADY A MEGAMILLIONAIRE.

LET’S. FUCKING. GO!

Here I am.

Here we go.

I’m home home.

A little bit earlier than my usual, true, but there’s a good reason.

Given everything, I needed to come up when I still have the opportunity and not fret over not being able to come up if things do find something.

Of course, full remote would be best, but I’m not hedging on that given the state of the world and stupid RTO mandates.

So, here I am. Here we go.

It’s different.

Vacation is different.

I know that I talked about how Covid changed how my usual vacations up north were.

Usually I would have more adventures, since both my mom and brother would be working, but now that my mom is retired and bro is WFH a few days a week, I kind of feel obligated to not venture out.

I know a lot of it has to do with me getting older, but yeah, it’s different.

Vacations now, last year and this year, have been so fucking different and I have to shift the blame to work.

Instead of using these vacation time to do vacationy things, I’m using it to do non-work/work/adulting things.

Fuck work.

Just fuck it.

Instead of worrying about what hike to do, where to venture out, here I am, scouring my emails and sites to figure out what I should apply to and hope for the best.

I have spent the time to put in the work to make sure my life gets back to how it was.

Sigh.

Adulting.

Adulting to the max.

I’m tired.

I’m tired of everything.

If worrying about work and my future work is not enough, I have to worry about the world and America.

I only have so much bandwith.

Sigh.

Adulting.

Fuck it.

I’ve been up here for over a week.

The first few days was relaxing as I eased into the search.

My mom was on vacation and didn’t come back until a few days after I arrived.

But now she’s back, it’s back to status quo, in the sense of me staying at home, being around the house, in case she needed to run errands or something.

I’m planning on doing some fun things next week.

Museum.

Taking Galette to Ruston for the waterfront walk.

Hoping to fit in a hike or two….

…as I wait patiently for responses from companies.

Sigh.

Adulting.

FIRE.

HOUSE.

RETIRE.

It’ll all happen this year.

2026

It’ll be the year I’ll be free.

I’ll be free of everything.

Secure and free.

LET’S. FUCKING. GO!

I haven’t reread anything on my blog in years.

Usually I would be diligent in readying the past few years’ entry for my birthday and another year older, another year wise posts, but I haven’t been doing it lately.

Again, I blame Covid.

My writing changed.

It changed a lot.

I’m sure I changed a lot too.

This blog changed so much.

What started out as therapy and eventually random ramblings about anything and everything, slowly shifted into an actual journal.

Sporadic entries here and there about what’s happening in my life.

No philosophical reminiscing about the past and harping on all of the issues that I have.

Maybe I’m fixed?

There’s not contemplating about the future and about the kind of person that I’m going to be or questions about my relationship status or if I’ll have a family.

I’ve changed.

Now it’s mostly about actual real-life problems that I’m facing at the current moment.

I’m in the now.

I’m in the present.

I’m no longer living in the past.

I’m no longer dreaming about my future.

Well, a little bit. FIRE. HOUSE. RETIRED.

LET’S. FUCKING. GO!

Is this a sign of growth?

If I get what I am manifesting, FIRE, HOUSE, RETIRED…how will my writing change?

Will I get more into a routine to write?

Before Covid I would go to Volcano Teahouse, sit down and do my writing. I had a routine.

I had a place to write.

I had a place to go to just waste an hour or so and do some finger tappings.

How will my writing change if I redo my routine and do that again?

How would my life change?

How would my day-to-day change?

I would for sure have a routine.

Not like my usual “day off” routine now, but an actual routine of doing something.

Will writing be a part of it

Maybe.

Will working be a part of it?

Creative work?

Something to stimulate the brain?

Maybe.

Who knows?

All of this seems so distant, so far away but so close all at the same time.

It’s at my fingertips.

I can almost grab it.

Just a little more.

JUST A LITTLE MORE.

I MANIFEST IT.

FIRE. HOUSE. RETIRED.

LET’S. FUCKING. GO!