Seeking John Galt

Fin.

*edit*

I might, just maybe, have been feeling a little overwrought yesterday.  That hasn’t changed my decision - Taggart Transcontinental is closing down this little operation. 

Of course, I’m grateful for the people - the insights, the commentary, the snarkful witticisms.  Of course.  I’ll be doing my best to keep in touch (such as that is).

But much the way Dagny’s railroad stopped being her own, this space stopped being mine.  It likely seems otherwise, but I actually don’t like being Darth Vaguer all the time.  I want to write about the things that I know, my own way, in my own space.  But as many of you know - when people start to read, people you know in the real world, people involved in those places and events - well, nobody’s going to agree with your perspective, every time.

A few have managed to retain a sense of humor about the whole thing - have let me have my perspective, or have my fun slightly distorting a situation (hi, D & J!) for comedic effect, or to make a particular point.  Others have been hurt or offended by what I’ve had to say - regardless of whether that was the fault of poor writing on my part, or hypersensitivity on theirs, I heard about it. 

Let’s rephrase - the second I started to write my perspective, about situations for which I was and am more than entitled to have a perspective, I was subjected to diatribe.  And frankly, if I’m going to take that much heat for what I have to say, it’ll be from the agents and (hopefully) editors to whom I hope to submit a finished manuscript one day.

I wish I could say that I never meant to hurt anyone - I think, maybe once or twice, I did.  That was not the case yesterday, and anyone who tries to claim otherwise is, quite frankly, wrong.  I will, of course, continue to read the offerings of those who rock (see sidebar for a sampling).  But I strongly suspect that I’ll enjoy reclaiming my privacy, as well as the ability to confide only in those whom I trust.

It’s been a lovely journey - but I think it’s time for us to explore different paths.  Best of everything to you all.  And should you happen to see a rather glum-looking alter ego roaming about, you might offer her some Nutella. 

Karma:  Well, now.  You do have quite a bit on your plate, haven’t you?

DT:  So glad you noticed.  You’re not planning anything I should know about, are you?

K:  Well, you know, I was actually just about to ask you the same thing.

DT:  Waitaminute.  Aren’t you supposed to be the annoyingly omniscient and vengeful being capable of unparallelled schadenfreude?

K:  Normally I don’t act on anything unless you’ve already done it.  Fortunately for you, merely contemplating evil deeds doesn’t count - though some of those uncharitable thoughts are going to come back at you later - I’m still working out the details.

DT:  Thanks for the heads up.  Frankly, I’m too busy to get into trouble at the moment - that birthday party, Super Bowl plans, a trip to see Things One and Two - and that’s all starting after this class is over with. 

K:  And then there’s that turning thirty thing.

DT:  Yes.  And that.  In April.  I can always count on you to remember such things.

K:  Just wanted to make sure you hadn’t forgotten.  Well, I really must toddle off.

DT:  Always a pleasure, K.  Oh - before you go.  About that other thing?  Thanks.

K:  No need to thank me.  My job does work in both directions, you know.  Here - have some Nutella, too.

Just in time for a new season filled with weekly doses of Tim Gunn, I’ve discovered another infestation.

They’re in my closet, this time.  And frankly, I’m not at all sure how they’re pulling this off.

Because I no longer own a scale, my clothes are generally the way I determine whether I’ve been eating/working out in an appropriate ratio.  And the gnomes?  Have clearly been messing with them.

My work pants all either fit perfectly well, or are slightly loose.  Except for one pair that, when I bought it last year, was loose.  Now?  They are snug.  

But they are the only pair.  Every other pair, even those that were tight-ish last year?  Loose or just right.  And unless I have more concrete evidence, I’m not giving up nutella for a pair of pants that’s trying to defy the laws of physics.

Either my closet, or my drycleaner, has an infestation. I’d buy a wretched scale, but:

(1)  What woman in her right mind sets herself up for her first weigh-in in 3 years, at Thanksgiving?

(2) Wouldn’t the gnomes just mess with that, too?

I think I might need to conduct an experiment, which of course would involve the purchase of new pants.   In the name of science, and all…

DT:  All right.  Where are you?  Come out, show yourself.

K:  Right here, as usual.  Looking over your shoulder.

DT:  Karma, I know you’re some sort of divine force, but must you look so smug all the time?  It’s really annoying.

K:  I’m quite sure I don’t know what you mean.

DT:  Riiight.  So anyway, about this situation I’ve got going on…

K:  Something… vexes thee? 

DT:  Okay.  First of all, the movie quotes are my thing, and it’s not nearly as cute when you do it.  Second, I just don’t get it.  What are you trying to tell me here?

K:  Maybe this is what happens when you don’t stand up for yourself enough?  Maybe, just maybe, when you let people get away with too much for too long, you forget how to insist on what’s important to you.  And then, because you didn’t insist, you have no one but yourself to blame when it doesn’t happen.  Remember that smart friend of yours?  She’s the one who pointed out that you never get more than you ask for in a negotiation.

DT:  Gotcha.  So… maybe I should try on that fabulous, confident, doesn’t-take-crap thing for a while, and see how that works?

K:  (dryly) It’s an idea.

DT:  As annoying as you are when you’re right (and smug!), I *might* owe you a thank you for this one.  Will a very recently opened jar of Nutella work?

K:  Hand it over.  I’ll be back, you know.

DT:  You know?  I wouldn’t have it any other way.