The First Day of the Rest Of My Life

So, for the first week after the layoff, I've been doing what has been suggested: update your resume, send e-mail to colleagues you want to stay in touch, and (these days) update your LinkedIn profile . Likewise, I also washed and folded five loads of laundry, caught up on the episodes of "Reno 911" that I've recorded, and taken naps of varying lengths and time.

Now what? I already feel the grip of Doom (the fear of losing what I have) and Gloom (the fear of not getting what I want) settling in for a long stay. Doom and Gloom were awakened yesterday when a close friend forwarded a job posting for a writer position in San Mateo. They peered over my shoulder as I mentally tried to fit the square pegs of past positions into the round holes of the job description. They chattered incessantly as I calculated the distance (27 miles) and time (30 minutes) for the trip from home to work, balancing the comfort of a steady paycheck against the high stakes and long hours of yet another startup.

Past layoffs (and subsequent job searches) have always put me in this same spot, contemplating appeasing Doom and Gloom one more time, or considering the possibility that there is a Plan B. I've already looked at striking out on my own as a contractor (which I consider akin to walking on a tightrope), as well as the exit option of leaving the business altogether (perhaps teach).  I'm also beginning to accept that Plan A may no longer exist at all should my severance package run out and steady jobs continue to disappear at places like Sun (6000 jobs), Intel (5000 jobs), and Microsoft (6000 jobs).

As I turn 52, perhaps I'll just start with the thought that today is the first day of the rest of my life, and I will work out the rest of the details later.