6 Months is a Long Time

6 months is a long time.

Oh.  Well, what do you know?  I just solved my problem by writing that line.

You know, one of the reasons I write blogs is for self-therapy.  You’ll be amazed at how much of your own shit you can solve just by writing.  And I just solved mine.

Let me explain.

I found out a couple days ago that I have 6 months left to live.

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I’m sorry, not “live”.  “Work”.

6 months left to work at the job I have now, the job that I’ve had the last 15 months, the job that I’ve fallen in love with.

The job as a producer for a Japanese television station.

I learned this news while in Mexico, of all places.  Being a producer, I work for a reporter, a Japanese guy a few years my senior, who broke the news.

It technically wasn’t “breaking the news” because I had heard this from him once before, but I normally take what he says with a grain of salt.  Because sometimes he says crazy ridiculous shit, like “you can’t wear jeans to work, Darby,” although the employee handbook clearly states that our LA bureau is JEAN-TOLERANT.

Anyways, he is leaving the LA bureau next summer.  It’s part of the way our company works: the reporters spend 3 years at each branch, and then they rotate to a random branch somewhere in Japan, or at one of our dozens of branches scattered all over the world.  Which would be fun if you get bored of places easily, but would suck if you have family.  Like said reporter does.

So in preparation for him leaving next summer, they want to get a new producer in there next year, and have him start training because the next reporter is likely going to be a young and inexperienced reporter.  Essentially they want to train a new producer, to train the new reporter.

And since my contract ends at the end of the year, they’d rather just do one contract for the new guy, then extend mine for a time period of less than a year.  Since apparently doing a new contract is too much work?

Originally, what I was expecting, was: to be working here until my reporter leaves.  And then leave this branch, and leave LA, but not necessarily this company.  I had aspirations for working for our international channel which is headquartered in Tokyo.

That could still happen.  The plan has not changed, per se.

It’s just that, effectively, my time here at this branch was just halved.

Finding another job?  That’s one of my lesser concerns.  My reporter and the chief reporter at our bureau—a woman who was (and still is) a celebrity of a reporter in Japan—will surely both write me glowing recommendation letters which, bundled with my Japanese Language Proficiency Test certificate, will get me far.

It’s just that that quest for the job is going to have to start… well, now.  Goodbye to all of my legroom.

This has all been wearing on my mind ever since I heard the news.

But now, as I’m putting this all to writing, I’m realizing, that

6 months is a long time.

Think about all that I can accomplish in that time!

Travel.  I’m already going to Oktoberfest in Germany this year.  Think about where else I can go this year.  I have unused vacation days that carried over from last year.  The company owes me that vacation time, and they will pay for me to go on a vacation, god damn it!  As for where I’ll go, I’m open for suggestions, if anyone wants to say, “Come to my farm in New Zealand!” or some shit like that.  I won’t go to New Zealand, of course, and I wouldn’t unless I wanted to fuck a sheep.

And yes I’ve come dangerously close to entertaining that idea, but I still haven’t gone “full blown wannabe sheep fucker” yet.

What else can I do in 6 months?

STAND UP COMEDY.

I’ve been talking a fuckton about becoming a comedian, and shit has been popping up and getting in the way (trust me guys), but now that I know I don’t have any time to procrastinate, I’m just gonna do it.  Let’s give myself a one month time limit.

In that same time span, I’m going to finish writing “The Best Story You’re Ever Heard” (tentative title), my best story ever.  It’s being written for this blog, and it’s going to debut all over your faces.  And I mean right all over your faces.

Do a stand-up news report for my TV network?  Yup, I’ll do that too.

Everyone knows that my big goal after being hired by this TV network has been to “be on TV myself”, and I did TECHNICALLY achieve that with two voice overs for stories on our international channel… and supposedly I was accidentally in the shot during one obscure scene for a story we did like forever ago—but no.  That’s not suffice.  I wanna be

ON THAT FUCKING TV.

Front and motherfucking center.

Ya huuuurd??

What else is there that I can, or want to accomplish here?

And I stress here, because when I finish this job, I’m not staying here.

I love Los Angeles, but I love international big-cities more.  And it’s time to discover another one.

Strong consideration is being given to Barcelona right now.  And by “strong consideration”, I mean the idea just popped up into my head 6 seconds ago.

Last but not least is one of my biggest goals, as has been for the last several years of my life, and I’m ready to check this one off the list NOW.  And that is:

I’m finally going to date a black chick.

It’s gonna happen people!  Believe in me!

(And please introduce me to your black girlfriends if you have any.)

Okay, that’s all for now.  More haphazardly concocted/mentally unhinged ideas coming in the weeks ahead.