There is a lyric in the REM song, E-Bow the Letter, that has always stuck with me. The line is, "Aluminum, tastes like fear".

I don't know if it's something that any of you have ever noticed, but that's something I've always thought myself. So when I first heard that lyric, I thought it was pretty interesting... I thought it was just me who got that tinny taste in my mouth when I was frightened or something scared the bejesus out of me. I guess it happens to others as well.

So why do I have that taste in my mouth right now?

Probably because I just finished writing this email:

Hi there New VP,

I was hoping that I could schedule a one-on-one meeting with you sometime tomorrow? Whatever time works for you, works for me!

Thanks!

And now I can feel my stomach twist and tighten into all kinds of knots, as though a troup or sailors or Girl Guides just set up camp. My lunch is unsettled. Next to me, my leftover soup grows cold, as bubbles of condensation collect beneath its plastic lid.

I feel gross. Actually, I almost feel like I'm going to be sick... all because I'm on the verge of giving my notice... well, kind-of.

Yes, all this time I've been unintentionally preoccupying myself with this fun series of posts about spirituality, when behind the scenes all kinds of stuff has been taking place.

Lawyers are drafting papers as we speak. Tomorrow, or perhaps Monday we'll sign the dotted line, and soon after we will be provided with the first installment of our development funding.

It's exciting times, but also scary times.

Because the funding is about 1/5 less than what we make now after taxes, J n' I are hoping to negotiate to do 8 - 10 hours of contract work each week. (Which has been done by others many times before. Seems our company would rather negotiate than lose you altogether.) This contract work will not only subsidize our income, but depending on how we play our cards, it might also give us a little extra, which would be nice to put towards this weddingmoon debt, start saving for a down-payment on a house, or pay for any trips to Vancouver or LA to meet the producers we've been speaking with.

And yet, this is where I start feeling really queasy.

While I'm pretty confident that the company will agree to allow me to do contract work... I just don't know how it'll all pan out. The fact is, I am currently underpaid for what I do. The national wage average for my position is much higher than what I make now. So my co-workers tell me that this is a great time to negotiate the hourly rate I deserve -- "Do not let them take advantage of you!" Yesterday a co-worker of mine who does contract work for us disclosed what she charges, and encouraged me not to be afraid to ask for the same.

It is a fair wage, and New VP seems like a fair man.

Still, I don't know... I'm really not good with this sort of thing. I know I'm our only writer. I know we're gearing up for our busiest time of year. I know that any time someone quits, it takes a good 6 months to a year (seriously!!!) for the company to get its sh*t together and fill the position -- IF they bother filling it at all. We are a skeleton crew, and I like to think I am in a good position to ask for what I want.

...But that doesn't mean it's not scary.

It shouldn't be scary. It should be thrilling.

Yet, my lunch sits heavy in the pit of my stomach. My breathing deepens, filling my lungs to their fullest capacity. And a trace of aluminum still lines my mouth.

Okay, enough with the procrastination... I'm posting this article and then clicking "send" on my letter to VP.

Wish me luck!