Laid off. Let go. Canned. The boot. The ol’ pink slip. It happens to the best of us.

It happened to me last Friday. There I was, a happy little worker bee buzzing around my office, getting things done. I had just put my frozen lasagna in the microwave to enjoy a nice modest lunch, when my phone rang. It was the Director of HR, asking if I could please join her and the president of the college in the conference room.

Uh oh. Not good.

Immediately my pulse soared and my hands began to quiver. I darted across campus, my mind racing, scarcely able to believe that this was happening. Although I tried to hold it together as they explained their financial woes and how sorry they were and blah blah blah, my emotions betrayed me and I started blubbering like a child.

Back at my office, I numbly stared at my computer for what seemed like an eternity. What about the article I was in the middle of writing? What about the meetings I had lined up next week? What about the gallery update I needed to publish? I was trying to tie up loose ends and take care of my responsibilities, but the I.T. guys were hovering over my shoulder, insinuating it was time to wrap it up and get out. And that’s when it truly hit me: this is no longer my job. None of this matters anymore. Just leave.

It was hard. It’s such an emotional thing to go through, especially when you’re not expecting it. By the time I got home I was past the shell-shocked phase and moving rapidly into the pissed off phase. I drank several beers and filed for unemployment. Then I went to a bar, drank several more beers, and vented my anger to anyone who would listen. Cut to the end of the night when I am drunk, bawling in public, and begging my husband to just take me home.

Thus began the depression phase. I spent the rest of the weekend (aside from a few amazing hours of live music courtesy of Buddy Guy and Steve Miller Band), shuffling around in my pajamas feeling sorry for myself.

I’m done with that now. I gave myself the weekend to feel down and out, but that’s really such a waste of energy. I truly believe that things happen for a reason, when one door closes another one opens, and all that warm and fuzzy motivational stuff. To think of all the people in the world experiencing hardships so far beyond the scope of mine makes me a feel like a fool for shedding even one tear over this. It’s not the end of the world, I just got laid off. So what? I’m still a rock star, I got my rock moves, and I’m headed onward and upward to the next chapter of my life.

In the meantime, I’ve been given the motivation (and the time!) needed to finally start the blog I meant to start two years ago. The title is an ode to that half-cooked lasagna, so sadly waiting for me in the microwave of my former workplace, which ended up dying a slow death in the trash. (Too much to hope for a reimbursement check? That organic stuff is expensive.) The lasagna symbolizes the end of one era and the beginning of the next. Also, I couldn’t really think of any other titles.

So here it is. I hope you enjoy it.