Keep My Words

Last night I went to see Evil Dead 2 at McCarren Park.  The band was playing before the movie and I was on my second plastic cup of wine (poured from a 2-liter Sprite bottle) when my phone rang.  It was Allison  “Is that your blog?  Devin says that’s your blog.  Did you quit your job???”

I suppose it’s more appropriate to say that I resigned.  Mike says “quit” implies that I am not working from this point forward.  I gave a month’s notice.  Four more weeks of corporate slavery.

In other news, I am on the road to casting all of my care away.  Not my responsibility, just my care.

care (noun) – a state of mind in which one is troubled; worry, anxiety, or concern; grief; suffering; sorrow

It’s easier said than done.  Stifling my ability to be carefree are the thoughts that plague my mind after last Friday.  It’s not just how you always think of better things to say after the fact.  It’s the plans that you made that you realize aren’t going to happen now.  It’s the inside jokes.  It’s the tangible reminders that you want to throw away or hide, but you don’t.  And it’s thinking that the other side of the equation doesn’t care about any of it.

care (verb) – to feel concern about

These kids were outside of Bar Matchless Sunday after the Pool Party.  Future heart-breakers:

I saw two dead birds last Wednesday.  One was at a park on the Hudson near 54th Street, where I sometimes eat lunch at work.  The other was by the ball fields at McCarren Park.  They were showing the first Summerscreen film, Reality Bites.  I was walking to the restrooms with my friend Mike, where I would tragically drop my new sunglasses in the toilet.

Me: “Oh my god, Mike, that’s the second dead bird I’ve seen today!  I need to take a picture of it!  I wonder what it means.”

Mike: “Death.  It’s a sign of change in your life.”

There was one change that I already knew I was going to make.  In short, it involved a guy, and me making a choice to break my own heart this time.  (Lelaina: “Walk out on you? You walk out on them.  I’ve seen you.  You’re out the door before the condom comes off.”  Vickie: “Listen to me, I’m just beating them to the punch.”)  Did I do the right thing?  This isn’t a rhetorical question.  I really want to know if I did the right thing.

Anyway, I feel the need for more change.  So I’m going to quit my job, take out a loan, and (finally) finish school in time for summer 2010.

I can’t just let those birds die in vain.

Manhattan bird (above), Brooklyn bird (below)