Real life can be a series of hairpin turns, elevator drops and left field incursions, as my son found out this past week. He's been chafing at his current job, not happy with being lower management (the worst-protected, least-respected level of management) in a company that sprang the raise on him, demanded he take a position in a newly-created office with next to no preparation, then proceeded to foul up his raise and much, much more. Not my story to tell beyond that; but it was enough to get him looking for a new job or a couple of part-time jobs, something that would approximate the pay, or at least come close, but leave him the flexibility to start taking college classes again.
He found a new position, fewer hours, no benefits, and of course BB and I worried about the lack of medical coverage. He said he'd go for ACA insurance pool coverage and besides, he was going to gain more in better mental health than he was losing in wages and coverage. OK, we thought, but I said, look, think about it over the weekend before you give your two weeks' notice, which he was intent on giving.
And so of course, come Monday, before he could give that notice, he was let go. (Not without one apologetic manager telling him he was the hardest worker she knew and that she was going to give him a glowing recommendation if he wanted it.)
Of course, the roach-brained little management tosser who did this would probably have been unhappy to realize that he hadn't screwed my son over, since FB already had the new job lined up, but let's face it - getting kicked to the curb by one's employer, even one as as gifted in misology as FB's former Legrees, always sucks like cosmic vacuum and stinks like right-wing feces. The man is more than a little freaked, given he had a number of car-related costs that he was already juggling hard to deal with. And yet, as he's put it, he'll be working in a place that won't give him nightmares anymore, and he'll figure out the finances. He's become mature. He knows that he can panic, and freak, and still come out the other side. To all this, a bemused and still slightly worried mother says - Go, FB!!!
In other news: A Town Called Mercy was several degrees better than I recall it having been when I first saw it. Somehow the moral arguments seemed less obvious and forced than I thought they were the first time I saw it. The Kahlar doctor was, again, a strong point in the story, with a valid, if awful, point of view. The Gunslinger could still have benefited from being more of a character and less of a plot point, but, all in all, yeah, definitely a B. That's better than the grade I gave it the first time I watched it.
The Power of Three had an initially clever and ultimately risible central conceit, but all the messages and themes that provided its superstructure - time and patience and how humans learn from, grow because of, and are affected by both, and the the intersection of excitement and mundane life as mirrored in the damned cubes - all of that was wonderful. As were Kate Stewart, Rory and Amy. So was Brian, although I wish they'd not made him quite so much of a pleasant-to-laugh-at-as-well-as-love caricature. The final scene still pisses me off, because the writer didn't take the slight extra effort to needed, as the writer, to either get the helpless human victims off the spaceship or, at the least, have the Doctor express at least notice that, while he saved millions of heart attack victims on Earth, he couldn't save the original victims. A little irk, but mine own.
Won't watch The Angels Take Manhattan because I only have one heart, and getting it broken again is not what I want so soon before S08. So it's on to The Bells of Saint John tomorrow night.
This entry was originally posted at http://kaffyr.dreamwidth.org/314653.html?mode=reply, where there are currently comments. You can comment there or here; I watch both.