In the interest of full disclosure, I must tell you that some of the PTSD from my "Folk, Pop, Rock" class has worn off. Or, more accurately, BFF has remembered more of the songs we whisper-sang during that brief, shining moment in junior high.
See? This is why you have to stay friends with people who've known you forever. After a while, you collectively have one intact memory.
BFF remembered that our ragtag fake show choir sang "Side by Side," that "Oh, we ain't got a barrel of money" song from the 20s. And also, "Wouldn't it be Loverly" from "My Fair Lady."
But then? Just as she was drifting off to sleep, she remembered ... Baby cried the day the circus came to town.
Because ohmygod, we sang "Don't Cry Out Loud."
After I stopped having a seizure, I realized that my whole "Folk, Pop, Rock" flashback had come full circle, as Barry Manilow was Melissa Manchester's chum. So, that was nice.
But also? What the hell sort of advice is it to "Just keep it inside, and learn how to hide your feelings?" I asked my shrink, and she agreed that this song would definitely make it into a top 10 list of The Songs Your Shrink Hates Most.
Talking about your thoughts and feelings is good. Which is another reason why it's a good thing I resigned from Globotron.
Today, my group of tech writers was told that we desperately needed to hurry up and do some work that our manager has been putting off for weeks. Basically, it's your classic corporate fire drill - somebody didn't prioritize the work, we've been doing nothing, and now some higher-up wants the work, like, yesterday.
My manager insists that we don't have time to ask questions or get organized. I feared that my work wife was going to have a heart attack, she was so infuriated.
I spoke my peace, in which I was calm and smart. At no time did I actually say, "Oh, damn, I used to be a senior editorial manager and supervise this sort of project all the time and I am just handing you the knowledge of how to do it right," although that would have been accurate. And somewhat appropriate.
So, my polite version of that was met with a polite, corporate version of, "Sit down and shut up."
Don't cry out loud, indeed.
So, instead of daydreaming during my last 9 days at Globotron, I will do a somewhat mindless but very rushed task. And I will do it wrong, because that is my manager's explicit direction.
Marrying my husband was the single best choice I've ever made. Quitting this job is probably number 2.