If you had asked me a week ago what I would be doing on this particular Sunday morning, among the last things I would have guessed would be skipping church, staring down a table of job-hunt career-path books at Barnes & Noble.
Yet that’s exactly where I found myself this morning.
I’m not buying, because there’s nothing in those books that’s going to help me right now — the shock of what’s happening here in Seattle is too fresh, too thought-process-blocking, too . . .
I don’t know where I’ll end up when this plays out. I’ve been feeling restless for a long time, like some big change was coming, but I expected it would be gradual and I would have some input on the timing. Instead, the rug was yanked out from under me and I find myself alternating between knowing it’s going to work out and just plain freaking out.
I’m bouncing around the stages of grief like they are bumpers in a pinball game, but I also recognize that this is an opportunity to take my life in a completely different direction. I’m working through the best way to spend the next 58 days, and I hope to be posting my thoughts here as I work through this.
In the meantime, I ask for your prayers — for me, and for my colleagues. The P-I is just a cool place to work, with so much talent and history and class (not to mention the neon globe and the fantastic views), and it’s really a huge loss for Seattle if it does go away, as seems the most likely option at this point.