Work is really weird… the way you cultivate something and know it’s the right time to walk away from something… your baby.. but it’s hard to do?
In the past, I always mingled with – teased, flirted – the idea that when I left a company, hotel, etc that it would fall apart without me.  The brick and mortar would weep and people would tremble, babble confusedly and murmur nothing at the air in baffled hysteria.  Sometimes, places did have problems… big problems I gleefully rue…. but most of the time the ship set a new course and all was well with the new power hungry swells that slapped at the hull of my past association.
It’s awkward to have a real cathartic sadness…. nothing creating the darkness and thoughts of jumping from terrible heights, stricken with insane braveness.  Nothing noble or romantic to meet an end.  But to design, raize then rais, then push this child forward into the world, looking noble but so internally weak.  With XXXXXXX this happened, as it did with the Allison, to a lesser degree (part for my maturity, part that it had so much less to do with me in every way, though my involvement was key).
But as towering new interests have dawned, like XXXX, then XXXXX – coupled with old standbys like XXX or the other XXXXX props in constant peril of flux and creation.
But as we see mighty new companions in the waters ahead – The XXXXXXXX, as well as another historic prop named the XXXXXXX (something we have danced and bolstered and taken out to dinner not just once or twice in our 20 years of gazing at it from our XXXXXX office).
But to see things waylayed, like XXXXXX – bought at the height and for reasons nebulous with a pained shrug of sorry shoulders.  Something that was with us, our first of the portfolio of sorts, for two decades.  With friends and families for two decades… potentially decimated by the radioactive elements of the unknown and changes of fault lines with it’s powerful earth like shifts that happen once every decade or so.  We will miss XXXXXX and the crew.  It’s hard to imagine what’s next.  Like XXXXX, a Tuesday engaged for a score of years…. a lucky respite for festivals of family and holidays of decompression.  To see these two, mighty in their respective rights, disappear has got to be complex, and difficult for the gent my senior, but more disconcerting as a marker of time, a passing of an age, and a new responsibility to know my place in these centuries and millenia.  The wax and wane of these things is complex, and the excitement of our future involvement is always and sadly complemented by those moments that pass into the dusty bin of hallmarked time.
I hate to see this pass, this too shall pass, I don’t like things to pass.  It’s a selfish thing, it’s not a concern for anyone, I am afraid.  To be bound to this mortality and be reminded in even the most innocuous of settings makes me thankful I have the propensity of scribing in lieu of a mental arrangement none to healthy for all.  Thankfully I can put it here… these moments that pass cause constant consternation, if it were mere thrill or exhiliration of our future and exciting new face, that might be one thing.  In this case, I honor these passing fleets into the fog of time, and gear up to challenge the world with new blood and exciting forward thinking philosophies for our industry.
To the fallen!  To the future!


About Uncle Fishbits

I'm.. just this guy, you know?

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