Monday, August 07, 2006

My So-Called Life

Isn't it funny how a big change is preceded by a lull? Like God or Allah or Fate or just another impulse has pulled back on the plunger and I am just a little pinball, sitting in the gate, waiting for the push to get my shiny ass moving and bouncing around the pinball machine that is life with renewed vigor, hoping that everything works out and I rack up some points before I slip back between the flippers and need to start over.

I am not happy. Not in the "call the Samaritans, she's walking up the bridge" sense of unhappy, but enough things have gone wrong that I realize the way I'm living isn't the way I'm going to find what will truly make me happy. I haven't written anything in a long time. I write this blog, and while I love that I have a readership, but this isn't the kind of writing I want to do. I want to write novels and stories and have them made into lucrative movies that actresses try to win Oscars in. That sounds snotty, but I know I am capable of it. I'm a good writer. I'm a good writer who hasn't written anything new in years. Whether that's due to fear, a lack of ambition, or the distracting power of the internet and television, I don't know. But once I figure it out, I will get back to work. Ideally, I'd take a class at Grub Street or something to motivate me to do something by a due date, but that costs money I don't have.

That's the other thing. I'm sick of worrying about money so much. This is going to be part of my life and that's fine. I knew when I loaned the tens of thousands of dollars to attend Emerson it would curtail my ability to buy Prada. But I've been worried about having enough money for food for nearly two months, and that's unacceptable. I need a part-time job that's a source of reliable income. The freelance work is great, but it dried up through the one avenue I had. I went to apply at J. Crew for a weekends-only gig, but got such a hairy eyeball from the hiring manager that I haven't gone back with my application. Right now, I'm thinking of being a Gansett Girl (doing promotions at bars for Narragansett Beer) since I spend most of my free time in bars, drinking 'Gansett, or both. All I need is a head shot and I'm good to go. I've also been told by friends and manicurists that I have nice hands, so maybe I could do a Costanza and be a hand model. All the glory and money of modeling with none of the orders to live on rice cakes and celery alone.

The answer to my problems is elusive. All I know is I'm sick of being bored, I'm sick of not being able to pay my bills without worrying, I'm sick of not writing. The smack from the plunger is going to happen soon. I hope it hurries up.

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