I got fired.

I got fired from the worst job ever.

I got fired from a job where in order to keep myself sane I had to re-arrange all the shitty inspirational posters on the wall.

It was really funny. My boss closed the office door and said, "You don't seem very happy here. I don't really think you have the passion," --and he gestured out toward the outer office where the sad little Filipino accountant labored miserably away, muttering under his breath like Milton from "Office Space," and doing the work of four people who'd quit--"I don't really think you have the passion for the job."

I stared at him in silent dibelief because, while he was completely and utterly right, he was not saying this because he'd actually *sensed* any unhappiness from me. I know how to put aside that stuff when I walk into work: I'm getting paid to do a job, crappy though it may be, and I never let it get me down. I was the most positive, uptone and enthused person in that office.

He was lying.

He didn't really think I didn't have passion, he didn't really think I didn't like the job. It was just that I wasn't willing to work like Ramon in the accounting office, coming in on weekends, never taking a lunch, working from 7 am to 6 pm without a break, and meekly, submissively suffering my boss's abusive and browbeating verbal assaults. For the first time ever, in this job, when my boss yelled at me, I yelled back.

And he wasn't going to take that kind of flak.

So, fine. I was a little ticked off initially, but it was just stung pride--"Hey, I was supposed to dump you first!" But then I came around, because now that I've been fired, I can collect unemployment. I used to be so against collecting unemployment, but that was when I thought it was everyone's taxes paying for my lazy ass. But it's actually my own money, so I now feel okay about it.

ANNNND....then I checked my e-mail, about ten minutes after I was informed that Friday would be my last day at the Crappy Day Job(tm). And there, in my inbox, were two e-mails from editors at Whole Life Times and the LA Alternative Press respectively, each saying they wanted to take me on as an intern.

I'd applied for the internships because, while freelance writing is fine, if I ever want to find financial success in writing I need to know the publishing cycle and the editorial side of things, and I can't get that experience as a sideline while working a "day job." I have to take a risk and leap in with both feet. An internship is the best way to start.

So while I intern and maybe work a part-time job, I can collect a little unemployment (hopefully) and prepare myself for a new phase in my career--one where I no longer work a day job and marginalize my dreams to the sidelines, but instead one where my hopes, dreams & goals take center stage.

For those familiar with whence I've come--I've come a long way.

It takes a lot outta you, too. Right now I'm going to go eat some nachos.