The Nails

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I generally hate confrontations. I am willing to absorb a lot of discomfort rather than confront.

But I’m going to tell you now of a series of re-cycles that encompass today, four years ago, and beyond. They were all about confrontations. They were all about me doing things I don’t like to normally do.

Four years ago today, I had to have a confrontation—albeit in an indirect way. I privately and publicly resigned from my editor job at MTV. After almost three years and bringing their pop-culture blog in to the top 3 across their family of websites, my boss essentially demoted me in favor of someone who I think better fit his conception of what “geek culture” was. I was told I could stay on as a “den mother.”

It was, frankly, the “den mother” comment that was the “nail” of that particular situation.

The day before that all happened, an abandoned house across the street from where I lived was set on fire in the middle of the night. This house was a thorn in the side of the neighborhood residents, and used as a place for druggies, illicit sex encounters, and garbage dumping. The owners of the house gave up all responsibility for the property and could no longer be bothered to even sell it.

I called that house the Freddy Krueger House until such time as a transgender woman was murdered on the property—then I called it “Murder House.” I’ve written about this house many times.

The morning I emailed my resignation letter to MTV, I actually snuck into the charred, still-steaming house. Part of the roof had collapsed and light streamed from between slats onto the staircase below. A collection of audio tapes were strewn right beyond the front door.

Now that property is a large brick school.

Today, I strongly told my ex-boss from my most recent job—a place which did not pay me or my co-workers final checks as it closed & has established that there are no current plans to—that I believed things were handled irresponsibly there & that it hurt everyone. I hate confrontation. I didn’t want to tell her these things. I didn’t want any part of that situation. But certain things needed to be spoken; needed to be said. Not just for me, but for the individuals I worked with.

And so now I’m filing for unpaid wages with the govt. And that’s it with that.

Why the re-cycle here? Why on the same day?

Two years ago, I was in the middle of a nasty round of emails to get my final checks from another previous job. In that case, about a month in during 2015, they simply stopped paying me. They assured me next week, the checks would come. They never came. $4K in checks. It wasn’t until months later that I managed to recover it all.

Re-cycles.

I hate confrontations. I hated sending those inquiry emails to that job to get my money. I hated having that conversation with my ex-boss today. I hated composing and sending out those resignation emails four years ago.

I’m never going to like confrontations, so if this is the universe’s way of “forcing” me to like them, it ain’t going to happen.

Is it all about life-purpose? Was I not on “the Path?” Was that the lesson?

goddammit