Surrender

I got fired yesterday. Kind of. Not really. I'm being overdramatic. The Dating Dame segment was canceled. And if I really wanted to get dramatic about it, I'd tell you that they canceled the segment while I was gone. Which is also true, only I wasn't surprised.

I will admit to feeling some rejection, though. Although the fact of the matter is, I asked for this. And I'm not saying this in a 'I'm trying to make myself feel better about being dumped' kind of way. I really did. I didn't want to do the Dating Dame anymore. And now I won't be. Weird.

I did it for four years. I started by pitching the idea to the producer of Breakfast Television back when I was still reeling from my divorce. They said 'We'll try it' and it really worked. I appeared on BT every couple of weeks for over two years before someone had the idea to shoot a pilot. My three friends and I actually ended up shooting two half-hour shows. Then we were offered the segment on Your City. My first paying TV gig. I also had a dating column in Avenue Magazine for a year.

The Dating Dame was my version of making lemonade. For the past year-ish, I've felt like I've outgrown her. That the DD served a very important personal and professional purpose, but that purpose had run its course. So here we are.

They want me to pitch some new segment ideas and my wee pea-brain immediately started spinning and chugging about how I could make an even better segment and be the star of the station and get my own show and be the next Oprah. But that's just ego talking.

In fact, it's been ego talking a lot of the time since I got back. My bully of a brain has become convinced that it needs to manhandle its way through this. "Figure it out." Strategize solutions. Brainstorm. Troubleshoot. Sigh.

Fucking middle management.

I've been ignoring God. I have been caught in the swirl of 'Gotta make money' and 'I don't wanna be here' and I haven't been listening. I haven't been writing either. Besides this blog, which I love, my creative work has consisted of booking hotels in Portland.

I looked at my money yesterday when I got home from my CityTV meeting. I am in much better shape than I thought I was. I've avoided looking at my bank account since returning, assuming that I (like most folks who return from European travels) was totally broke. Nope. In fact...I could take another month off if I wanted. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Here's another little gift from the universe. My BFF's friend David just got a job at a company in L.A. that, what, finances films. He's agreed to take a look at my script. And he's sure he knows someone who knows Peter Dinklage, the world's greatest little person.

Last night, I went back to the G-man. I said God, I know that this CityTV thing is clearing the way for something even better...please guide me to it. I surrender. So this morning, I am packing my laptop into my backpack and hiking to the nearest cafe. I'm going Parisian today. Like the good old days. I'm diving into my third draft. I'm going to start with The Undertaker and see where he takes me.