Done With It, Not Over It

So I'm at a party for a friend last weekend. I like heading out to birthday parties these days as much as I like a good cystoscopy (look it up), but he's a good friend, so Pumpkin and I ventured out. I knew from seeing the guest list that a lot of former co-workers would be in attendance. For this reason alone, I dreaded the whole affair.

See, I knew all I'd hear from them is how much the old place made a mistake when they let me go, how they don't like the new show at all, etc, etc. I know that sounds arrogant but it turned out to be 100 percent true. Not only that, friends of the guest of honor also volunteered the same opinion. I used to like hearing stuff like that, but now that it's been over two years since my dismissal I'd rather hear "what are you doing these days?" than anything else. Them not knowing what happened to me is much preferred over rehashing what did happen to me. In spite of have three delicious, refreshing Michelob Ultras, I left the party depressed.

When I watch shows like "Intervention", I'm always struck by the number of times that the protagonist goes into rehab, comes out clean, then falls flat on his/her face soon after their release. The simple fact is that they go back to seeing and associating with all the triggers that got them into trouble in the first place. In order to truly come clean, they need to make a complete break from the old life that brought them to where they are now. Such, it seems, is now my case with radio.

While I like hearing that I'm missed, it doesn't make me feel any better. In fact, with time it only makes me feel worse. Perhaps the only way to fix this is a fresh start in a new place. Certainly, Pumpkin wouldn't be against it. I'd have some friends that I'd dearly miss, but eventual long-term happiness might best be served by movin' on down the road. The only that's holding me back from a more aggressive relocation pursuit is the Las Vegas real estate market. To move now would be like selling an investment you know will grow more over time. But is the greater profit worth even greater misery?

In the meantime, the only solution seems to be this: drink alone.