The End of an Era

The good news is that I got a gig that will keep me from worrying about my bills, my rent, my savings account, and my addiction to shopping.

However, it marks the end of my free-wheeling, happy-go-lucky year of freelance. I find myself sitting here, hoping to make my last day as a free employee something special, but I am rooted to the futon feeling a sense of loss instead.

Do you remember, dear friend, how we could get together for lunch in the middle of the day, without worry of how long we spent talking about our boyfriends and moving and problems with my dog? Or the time we snuck out to see two movies in one day, right in the middle of the week? Or how about the trips to the museum and the beach? I held meetings, ate good food, got it on, and managed to escape whenever time allowed. I was a slave to no one on those days, living life and answering only to myself and the occasional deadline. It was a wonderful year.

Biggie, you were right. Mo' money, mo' problems.

I am young and vibrant, living life to its fullest, and I managed to beat the system for awhile. But no more. It's back to direct deposit and packed lunches. Associate producers and visits from the suits. Vacation? What's that? 6-day trips in the middle of April? It will all seem like a fairytale.

Don't get me wrong, I am happy for the opportunity. I feel like the next part of my life is beginning. I am cautiously stepping through the Door That Leads to The Rest of My Life, and I am excited and hopeful. But boy, it sure was nice to play this game by my own rules.

I just keep telling myself that the world of production is one that encourages lots and lots of breaks. Shows last for several weeks, then life is quiet again. You made enough money to go to Prague for 8 weeks. Then, back to the daily grind. Win, lose. Win again, and back to losing.

I guess losing destitution is kind of nice. I guess I could be winning here. It's not so hard to envision it that way. In fact, the folks over there all seem to be so nice and the job seems so tailored to me...Yeah, that's right. It all works out the way it's supposed to, Hellcat. Chin up. Some people in the world are homeless and have no marketable skills. Also, some people have monkey hearts and others have tumors. I don't know where I'm going with this line of reasoning but it's helping somehow.

But the point is that I will no longer be available for mid-week debauchery until after 6PM. But I will be able to afford that plastic surgery! So I have that going for me.

i love la. g