and it finally strikes me...

the day before i hand in my official, really-only-two-weeks-to-go notice... i'm insane. completely bonkers.

how many job-shoppers do i know just at the moment? how many with an equal or greater number of marketable skills, a degree more utilitarian than a bachelor's in french?

ok, momentary panic attack over. i'm quitting anyway. security be damned. i know that i like my job pretty well as long as i stick to the singular... day-to-day, it pays more than i need to live, i have some of the world's nicest co-workers, and so on. but if i make today go on infinite loop, groundhog day-style, i'd rather starve. too much deep craving for some kind of motion, even stupid motion, to sit around and wait for the economy to upturn.

(so how do i spend my evening? updating and polishing ye olde resumé? scanning the classifieds? nope! reading sandman vol. 4 and conspiring with jfeng to draw puking april o'neills. don't ask on the latter. as for the former, gaiman sent me scrambling for a dictionary; i didn't really expect that from a comic book, no matter how many times the intros repeat themselves about the superior quality and complexity of the series. caparison. i'm not confident i'll find a context for it anytime soon, but it's an addition to the arsenal nonetheless. all caparisoned and no place to go? nah, too trite.)