The meeting was over and done with: I’d forgiven but not forgotten and we’d each gone on our merry way to our merry stations thinking our station merrier than anyone else’s.  Now, it was time for everything to go back to “normal”. 

There was just one problem: I’d not yet received any indication that anything would ever go back to “normal”.  Over the years, I’ve tried to convince myself that I love things that are safe and that I enjoy things being “normal”. But really, as of late, I have been discovering that nothing could be further from the truth. Like many others, I relax and become complacent when things are “normal”.

It’s only when things get “abnormal” that my posture changes and I resolve to do this, that and a hundred other things and every bone in my body takes to singing various songs- all on the theme of being alive. Really, nothing’s been normal for a while- at least not since July 2009. And, here I am (just to jump a bit ahead of our story) in December 2010, knowing that nothing will ever go back to “normal”, at least not for a very long time.

Everything which has happened since last July has awakened things in me. And I don’t mind this one bit because the things which have been awakened are things I can face in the mirror every morning with no shame or regret. Sure, these things which have been awakened in me- confidence, fearlessness (recklessness maybe) and greater loyalty to self- are very scary at times and take me down scarier and lonelier paths.  I prefer living this way.

But anyway, there I was a year ago- in November- December 2009, with the last meeting over and done with and me thinking “things will go back to normal now” but knowing that they wouldn’t.  I waited for the abnormalities- the fallout from the last meeting- and as usual, I didn’t have to wait long.

My employer at the online news company had earlier hinted at one outcome of my refusal to sign the contract which would make me a staff writer: they would no longer “need” as many stories from me as a freelance writer.  The implication there then was that I was too expensive as a freelance writer and so it would have definitely been a gain on their end to rope me in as a staff writer for a lesser sum.  You really cannot fault a company for trying….

Having been given this warning earlier, I waited for the abnormalities to begin in this general area. I knew they wouldn’t just be keen on ensuring that my bill was kept to what they were able/willing to pay me as a staff writer.  I expected a more drastic “we’ll show her” statement. And, after that very predictable meeting with the editor/CEO/reporter and etc, I prepped myself for some of the silliest and most childish/underhanded moves I would see in my career as a journalist- freelance or staff.

Again, I was not disappointed….

#38: Of Testicular Fortitude….