it’s a rainy sunday morning, and for once i’m gonna write without capitals.
i’m not wearing pants, either, so let’s just keep pretensions at bay and a coffee cup in hand, all right?
it’s been kinda a crazy week or so in the land of steff.
there’s one job i took a pass on, one job that took a pass on me (sort of), and a client that is a work in progress.
my old job has hours for me, my new client has work for me, and i think rent’s getting paid just in time. all things being equal? fuckin’ skookum*.
i’m in the middle of a sorting-out-my-homelife thing yet again. it has veered dangerously toward “rustic crack den” of late but also just needs bimonthly dustbunny-genocide duties executed. i’m all over the dustbunnies, man. makin’ asthma my bitch, yo.
i’m widening my creative worldview and trying to take on a few things that i’ve always been terrified to try, though i deep-down dream of going there. like, i’ve done training for a radio station at the university recently. a friend and i are batting about the idea of doing a live latenight talk show that would be stream real-time on the intertubes and be downloadable later as a high-quality podcast. i’d also get hands-on skills with one of the most-used, best recording systems used on radio stations around the globe.
ideally, i’d be able to continue with my creative extracurricular goals along with work-type stuff. i’d love to be doing talk radio. i’ve always wanted to do that. i love my writing — i want to have the financial means to chill and keep at my goals there, too.
i have the time to be creative these days, but financially i’m too thinly stretched to have the freedom to do it WELL.
who i am creatively, THAT’S WHO I AM. that’s not negotiable. it’s not “hobbies”. it’s my identity. it’s what i’m comprised of at a molecular level.
you wanna live to work? fuckin’ rock on, buddy, but that ain’t my scene, never will be.
my mother DIED at 57. she didn’t get her retirement. she never saw her golden years. want to wait to live yours? FINE. not me.
so, we’ll see where the present situation leads. i think it’s what i’ve been looking for. the jury is out — and probably will be for about a month, until i get a better grasp at where i’m floating in the financial sea of life.
i’ve worked 60, 70, 80 hour weeks before, i once worked 10 weeks without a day off. unless it’s doing what i love — writing, talking, etc — then it’s never happening again.
i want the trappings of success, but not the trap of it.
as a result, i’m conducting the most patient and slow job search of my life. i want the right situation, not just a paycheque.
there’s no economy for being picky right now? we’ll see.
in the mean time: no pants and a coffee cup in hand, baby. that’s my sunday morning.
have a good one, world. :)
*skookum: (adj) it has come to my attention that this is a “regional colloquialism in southwest canada”. it basically means wonderful, really good, snazzy, and all those other lovely ducky adjectives. except… it’s skookum, bitch.