Starving Artist
Since my fancy movie studio job ended and I've been out here in the self-employed trenches making my dreams come true, I've always thought of myself as a Creative suffering for my art; the true-life representation of the starving artist.
I shop, when I have money, at the 99 Cent store in true starving artist fashion. I almost never buy new clothes or other indulgences. Those things will come with a script sale, I tell myself.
Of late however, it feels like the Universe is trying to amend starving artist to include pathetic and downtrodden as well. It seems like every little task that should take five minutes has six things go wrong and ends up taking all day. Roadblocks are everywhere. I mean I know the old saying goes "into each life a little rain must fall." I know we all have our good things and bad but the bad is just starting to feel ridiculously unbalanced.
So I wonder what the Universe in its infinite widsom is trying to tell me? Slow down? I'm not supposed to be a writer? I shouldn't assume any new light bulb will work for more than one hour?
In a fit of indulgence I decided just now to walk to the store near me. True, it's more expensive than the 99 Cent store but it saves me gas and a walk is always good. I put my last-remaining twenty in my pocket and resolved to only spend ten on the indulgence of a bag of salad and some veggies.
Once in the store, I was seduced by the cheese aisle. I haven't bought myself cheese in months because I don't see it as a staple but a luxury and I'm trying to keep the budget as close to the bone as I can these days. Still, I stood over the cheeses and finally internally OKd the purchase of a $2.79 block of no-brand Monterrey Jack. This is the life!
I got to the check-out only to discover that my precious twenty had somehow escaped my pocket. There will be no generic Jack in my life today. I apologized to the check-out girl and ran the half mile back to my house looking on the street, asking startled pedestrians if they'd found a twenty, hoping they'd be honest enough to 'fess up if they had. No luck. The Spearhead song "Hole in the Bucket" rattled through my head followed by Superchunk's "Punch Me Harder." Thanks, Universe. If I make a nice paper cut, would you like to squirt some lemon juice in it?
So I return to my little apartment. Sans cheese, sans veggies. Sans dignity. And instead of eating a lunch salad right now like I'd planned, I'm sitting here writing about it, wondering what I'm meant to learn from all these recent roadblocks. At least I'm writing about it. Maybe that's what I'm supposed to be doing. I have been a bit distracted by a job which brutally underpays me - we're talking Dickensian salary. But still, ya could have gotten the point across in a slightly less "no soup for you" way, Universe.
The Starving Artist forges ahead. Or should I say forages?
I shop, when I have money, at the 99 Cent store in true starving artist fashion. I almost never buy new clothes or other indulgences. Those things will come with a script sale, I tell myself.
Of late however, it feels like the Universe is trying to amend starving artist to include pathetic and downtrodden as well. It seems like every little task that should take five minutes has six things go wrong and ends up taking all day. Roadblocks are everywhere. I mean I know the old saying goes "into each life a little rain must fall." I know we all have our good things and bad but the bad is just starting to feel ridiculously unbalanced.
So I wonder what the Universe in its infinite widsom is trying to tell me? Slow down? I'm not supposed to be a writer? I shouldn't assume any new light bulb will work for more than one hour?
In a fit of indulgence I decided just now to walk to the store near me. True, it's more expensive than the 99 Cent store but it saves me gas and a walk is always good. I put my last-remaining twenty in my pocket and resolved to only spend ten on the indulgence of a bag of salad and some veggies.
Once in the store, I was seduced by the cheese aisle. I haven't bought myself cheese in months because I don't see it as a staple but a luxury and I'm trying to keep the budget as close to the bone as I can these days. Still, I stood over the cheeses and finally internally OKd the purchase of a $2.79 block of no-brand Monterrey Jack. This is the life!
I got to the check-out only to discover that my precious twenty had somehow escaped my pocket. There will be no generic Jack in my life today. I apologized to the check-out girl and ran the half mile back to my house looking on the street, asking startled pedestrians if they'd found a twenty, hoping they'd be honest enough to 'fess up if they had. No luck. The Spearhead song "Hole in the Bucket" rattled through my head followed by Superchunk's "Punch Me Harder." Thanks, Universe. If I make a nice paper cut, would you like to squirt some lemon juice in it?
So I return to my little apartment. Sans cheese, sans veggies. Sans dignity. And instead of eating a lunch salad right now like I'd planned, I'm sitting here writing about it, wondering what I'm meant to learn from all these recent roadblocks. At least I'm writing about it. Maybe that's what I'm supposed to be doing. I have been a bit distracted by a job which brutally underpays me - we're talking Dickensian salary. But still, ya could have gotten the point across in a slightly less "no soup for you" way, Universe.
The Starving Artist forges ahead. Or should I say forages?
Labels: LA
posted by Heidi at 1:34 PM
5 Comments:
During my rough year off, at a point when I felt things couldn't get worse, I'll never forget going for a trail run (albeit with a large German shepard) and screaming at the universe, "BRING IT ON!" So, to you, my friend, I say, "BRING IT ON!"
man, I remember those days. nice they're just an old memory now. I suppose it built character, still something I could do without. I felt like contributing to your paypal tip jar after reading this, but of course you don't have one (yet).
I am definitely in a Bring It On mindset of late and it does feel better. Get that fighting spirit and suddenly there is peace.
Hmmm, paypay tip jar you say? I will so do that! Off to research now...
Get up, Trinity.
If I'm ever in LA, I swear I'll buy you a salad.
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