I drove past a carbeque today. That's when a car catches on fire. It was the morning, and I was driving against traffic--driving to work.

There was a haze across the highway, and traffic slowed down. I looked over, and saw the delivery truck that had gouged itself on a guardrail. Smoke poured out of the engine.

I thought to myself, "Well, that's a sign of something."

It was.

As highly unprophetic as I usually am, I've been paying attention to these things more and more. Call me sentimental, but after Katrina, I just started noticing.
When I got to work, no one was there. My supervisor was answering phones. I said, "Hey, where is everyone?" He said, "Hang on, Cheif wants to talk to you."

Cheif came and got me. Took me back to her office where another little guy was. He was from the legal department. He fired me.

That's right, friends. I've been fired from my job. I am no longer a Probation Officer. Suffice it to say; I lost my job because of this blog.

It's the end of the world...or...the beginning.

I got fired because I got bored. I got bored, and then I got angry. I got angry, and then, I blogged. So, there's a linear trajectory, here. Consequences. What's funny is that I used to tell my little felons, "It's all about decisions." I made a couple of bad ones, and now I'm facing the consequences.

Does it suck? You betcha it sucks. But does it mean something? I think so; I think it means that life is spinning me into action when I was too afraid to act before. Now, I don't have an excuse. Now, I'm cut loose, like a seed pod from a tree, like a carbeque fire on the highway.

I wondered if I should even keep the blogging up. I mean, this is the second time I've put my real life in danger because of my internet life. Just let it go? After some time, I thought, "No." While my lessons have been learned (like a touch to a hot stove...two times), I'm sure that my writing and my release happens on this blog for a reason. I'm also sure that I now have ALL of my constitutional rights back in place now that I don't work for the government anymore. Now, I can write without fear. I can speak without worry. There is no one out there to censor me.

One day, I'll be able to tell my kids or grandkids or someone's dog that I lost my job because I opened my mouth. And you know what? That's the worst that could happen, and the best.