Wherein I abandon my values and family for pretty, pretty money.
July 13, 2004So it seems that I have taken a job. Just like that. I swore a while ago that I would be all freelance-y and free-spirit-y forever and ever, that I would never again sit in a cubicle and be oppressed by the Man, and then the Man called and said, "Here's some money for you," and I said, "Hey, freelance life? Go sit at the curb until someone picks you up, because I want me some cash."
Yesterday I went to a meeting! In an office! A meeting where no one had yogurt smearings (smearings?) on their shoulders from their kids gnawing at their shirts, where people had Blackberries and wore pumps and slacks and ties (not all on one person, you understand) and seemed to not want to burst into hysterical giggles at the silliness of it all. And then they went, "We'll pay you! To do this thing!" And I was like "No shit!" and they were all "We totally mean it!" and so here I am, now, with a sort-of job. I mean, it's not a full-time job, and it's only for a year (a YEAR!) but now I have all this work, so, hmm.
Of course, Henry will have something to say about all this. I've come to see that kids take up a lot of time and energy, and he probably wouldn't understand it if I told him to play quietly until Mummy came home at 6 pm. So there's that. I'll have to get some help. Because we are still poor (until the cash money comes a-rolling in, YEE HAW), help will probably come in grandparental form, with all the psychic damage that implies. Not damage to him, of course--oh, he'll be just peachy.
I'm not sure what all this means for the blog. In addition to the job, there's my fiction writing, which has been woefully neglected, as I am addicted to the instant gratification of blogging. But attention must be paid, my friends. Attention must be paid! Then there's, you know, life. I can't just give up on the blog, I think, right? I can't. I will find a way. (Cue dramatic music, which swells to triumphant climax, then peters out into sad, aimless jabs at a toy piano. Plink. Plinkety. Plink.)
Reader Comments (32)
Also, fock the job. You need to blog more.
P.S. Congratulations, grumble grumble.
So I say: Screw us! Make money, write fiction. Become rich and famous. We give you nothing but momentary adulation and that's a check you can't cash.
People, don't be so damn selfish. Do not hold this woman back.
Besides, the internet is fickle, never forget that. They'll forget about you five minutes after you're gone. Not like fiction readers who will stalk you until you have to get a restraining order. I should also admit that as much as I think I love you I can't remember your name right now.
(Just kidding. We won't forget you for a really, really long time. And love is always momentary in a certain sense.)
"Oh, you hate your job? Why didn't you say so? There's a support group for that. It's called EVERYBODY, and they meet at the bar."
Just kidding, of course. Congrats and all that. But even so, working is highly overrated.
Seriously. Finslippy -- do what's best for you.
The whole point of how much
we allI care about returning to this blog is premised on a respect and affection for you and yours.It would be a betrayal of that respect and affection if I insisted that you stay a dancing bear for my amusement instead of doing what's best for you and your family.
I'll still, y'know, check compulsively for updates. And if I ever get around to fixing my own sidebar you're still on it. But do what you think is best.
--FD
So, I am happy that you will be receiving money because it is awfully pretty and fun to spend. I am also hoping you don't give up blogging completely because you are brilliant and make me laugh. And if you would write a book, I would buy it. So please don't stop writing.