Stasha over at The Dogged Pursuit of Happiness relieved me of a tremendous amount of guilt with these two sentences:
I know it seems like I haven’t been writing much for the past couple of weeks, and that’s sort of true. You see, the thing is, I write for clients, and occasionally, they would really like for me to concentrate on their priorities and, well, ya know, not my own.
*Weeps with relief*
AAAAAHHHHH SOMEONE UNDERSTANDS!!1!
…
/melodrama
No big surprise, I’ve been in Deadline Hell for the past few days. Actually, though, I owe this particular Deadline Hell a debt of extreme gratitude. I’m going to fly y’all to the moon, but stay with me, here, OK?
Last week, I had one of those weeks (and I think we all have these) where I looked around and it seemed like everyone I know is a homeowner living in a quarter-of-a-million-dollar house who drives an Audi and shells out God-only-knows-how-many clams a month to send their progeny to Montessori school outfitted in duds from Baby Banana Republic or whatever.
I, in sharp contrast, took stock of my one-bedroom apartment with the dryer that’s on its last leg. As I sat down at my laptop (which is also about to breathe its last) to blog about the moribund state of my financial affairs, I noticed the broken heel on my favorite pair of boots, which I bought on clearance at Old Navy three years ago.
And I…well…I had a wee bit of a meltdown.
I did what is normally the exact wrong thing to do in this particular situation. I called my mother.
Now, my mother loves me very much, and she thinks her baby is the most beautiful, talented, intelligent human to ever grace God’s green earth, but she does not consider my freelance writing career to be A Real Job. A Real Job, you see, pays a set amount of money each month. A Real Job requires you to be someplace depressing at 8:00 a.m. sharp, and you cannot leave until 5:00 p.m., with the exception of precisely 60 minutes during which you get to eat a fast-food lunch whilst bitching to your coworker, whom you don’t really like, about your boss, whom you like even less.
“Hello, Kelly Phelan!” said my mother. (For her, Caller ID still retains its novelty.)
“Hi, Momma,” I said. “Listen, I made a decision. I’m going to give this freelance writing thing one more year, and if it doesn’t get any better, if I don’t start making more money, then I’m going to quit and go find A Real Job.”
Aaaaand then my mother reminded me why I should never, ever assume I can predict her behavior.
“You will do no such thing,” she said sharply. “You have a gift, and you’re going to use it.”
And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the end of that.
The next day, I met the man whom I was interviewing for the feature article that put me in Deadline Hell in the first place. We talked a lot about his career, of course, and it turns out he has my dream resume: The New York Times, Esquire, Texas Monthly and the Austin American-Statesman, to name but a few. His latest project was a big one, tremendously successful and not strictly writing-related. But as I listened to him talk about borrowing office space from family members, calling in favors, working all hours and generally, as he put it, “bare-knuckling it” to get the job done, I thought, This is what is possible. All you have to do is keep working really, really hard.
Fortunately, working really hard is not something I have a problem doing.
And the beat goes on.
—-
Additionally, The Guy and I both caught colds this weekend. We greedily swallowed the last of the sinus medication on Sunday evening, so last night, we decided to go to Target together to stock up. He picked me up after work. When I let him in the door, I was still brushing my teeth. I wasn’t wearing any makeup, my hair was unbrushed and I hadn’t even BATHED, PEOPLE. You know I must feel pretty crummy when I know my boyfriend is coming over and I CANNOT EVEN BE BOTHERED TO BATHE. Bachelor Girl, indeed.
(Oh, and I was still wearing my Victoria’s Secret sweatpants with “PINK” emblazoned across the seat. “I gotta get me some of that,” The Guy must have been thinking.)
Nevertheless, we set out for Target. We bought Kleenex, of course, and cookies (feed a cold, right?). Shuffling slowly, we made our way to an aisle near the pharmacy, where we stood mouth-breathing and marveling at the sheer number of cold medications available.
“Let’s see…this one is for fever, runny nose, body aches and coughs…well, we have all that except for the fever.”
“Maybe we should get this one. It has something for sinus pain and pressure.”
“This ones says ‘promotes sinus drainage.’”
“Ew, don’t get that one. We’ll be draining all over each other.”
I voted for the one I normally get, which costs an arm and a leg and contains a heavy-duty decongestant. I won’t give the name, but let’s just say it rhymes with Schmaritan Bee.
The Guy looked at me askance.
“What?”
“That stuff messes me up. I don’t really feel like sitting on the sofa tonight, uncomfortably high and feeling embarrassed because I can’t keep up with what’s happening on ‘Pawn Stars.’”
He had a point.
So we got this stuff:
And it? Is a miracle drug. The Guy and I feel 95% human today. I even took a bath! I AM CLEAN!
AND I AM STILL A WRITER!
All is right with the world once more!
Your much better
Kel
This entry=right place, right time. (On a MUCH smaller scale) I have felt the same way lately and ADKHJFPUADF. THANK YOU for this entry! Because I’ve also been suffering from a cold for the past week so literally everything in this post was a Godsend! Haha.
Tylenol Cold Multi-Symptom is the way to go, girl. It’s (relatively) cheap, and that shit WORKS.
And, like me, you probably need to cut yourself some slack. You’re busy trying to get you a edumacation, and I’m busy trying to become the next Norman Mailer. The blogosphere knows that, and they also know we do the best we can.
That’s cool your mom was so supportive!
Also glad to hear you’re feeling better!
(BTW, I’m super jealous you live in a part of the country where $250K actually buys a HOUSE. I don’t think that even gets a small apartment in a nice part of Lower Connecticut …SO jealous)
Thanks, Ann. You just reminded me of a most important fact: I should be grateful that I can ply my trade in a part of the country where the cost of living is pretty low. Not only will 250k buy a house here, it will buy one HELL of a house!
Of course, you have the breathtaking beauty of Connecticut autumns and close proximity to NYC, so we’re even
Don’t be fooled into thinking those McMansion-dwelling, Audi-driving, cappu-frappucino swilling, BabyGap-buying swells you’re comparing yourself to have it all. They’re probably over-extended and nursing ulcers the size of stonefruit trying to pay for it all.
It’s all about balance, babe. Somewhere between stealing extra condiment packets from fast-food joints and “wintering” in somewhere with an unpronounceable name is where you want to be.
I was listening to a talk show program yesterday where someone made this following point about home ownership: “It’s not an investment; it’s merely a hedge against inflation.” Don’t worry about whether you’re throwing money away on rent; you’re saving a ton on home repair and maintenance expenses in the long run. But if you do buy someday, do what I did: buy way less than you can afford. It saved my ass down the road.
Do what makes you happy; do what feeds your soul. Decide how much “stuff” you really need in this life. Personally, I want just enough so that I can run my life and it doesn’t run me.
You already have a great life, Kel. Keep it full of people and experiences and you’ll do it up right.
Your ever-practical,
Mer
Mer, you always know just what to say.
Also, I have spent this entire day trying to work the word “stonefruit” into a conversation.
Aww..thanks, Kel. I don’t know where I get this stuff. Perhaps it’s those nightly downloads from the Mothership through the fillings in my teeth.
Mer is right. Don’t worry about what anyone else is doing. It doesn’t matter. Do what makes YOU happy.
Thanks, man! A good policy indeed.
Amen to all of the above — and a shout out to Mom!!!
We miss you and the LBs!
As one of those afore-mentioned Home owners, car people, etc.- trust me when I say that Nathan and I often envy you. You are doing what you love (unlike some of us who work to support said lifestyle). We were actually talking about how much better it would be if we could have the guts to do what you are doing. So a big kudos from us and we support you 100%!
Well, that’s what I got out of that interview – it’s all one big trade-off. Everybody just has to choose which they’d rather have. You can either have financial security, or you can live your dream. A very lucky few get to do both.
May you, Nathan and I can be among those lucky few
Ya I feel ya. I did my taxes a few nights back and saw how much I made last year (on paper). Course I prob made much more on rent and freelance but it really depressed me. My parents look at my freelance the same way yours do, so i feel ya.
I do suggest a small part time job to keep some funds flowing in though. Makes all the difference and gives me a reason to get out of bed.
Yeah, that was actually the genesis of my meltdown – I started gathering my tax paperwork to send to my accountant next week.
A part-time “day” job is an excellent idea. Now I just have to find one!
Do you work full- or part-time?
Oh dear. I totally understand. It’s so hard to sit and watch everyone else living the high life while we’re trying to make an honest living…said the nurse to the writer…
Maybe we can get rich co-writing a dramatic screenplay about nurses?
Hey, it’s a thought.
Hi, doll! Hope you are feeling much better. You are right about the super powers of Tylenol Cold & Flu. It is a miracle drug. Well, that and Nyquil (of which I should probably by stock in).
I admire so much that you are going after your dream and writing. I would love, love, love to do the same but I have that little need for health care which requires a “real” job.
Aw, thanks, honey! That means a lot to me.
Health insurance…I seem to recall something about that…it was wonderful…like a shining dream…
Interesting heading change up there.
For me, having a job I like is way, way more important than anything else when it comes to my career. I don’t care how much money I’m making or how many Joneses I’m keeping up with if I dread going into the office every day. It’s meant that I’m not using my degree, and it’s meant that I don’t make nearly as much as most New Yorkers do (although way more than most Ohioans do (haha)), but I love my co-workers, and I love my office environment. And you don’t even have to go into an office at all! I’m happy for you that you’re where you are.
Thanks, man! I’m trying to get a part-time day job, and I hope I’m lucky enough to find one where I love my co-workers and my environment like you do.
(It’s all part of my quest to be just like Katie Ett.)
I’m on the path to doing my *dream* and I still have those moments where I wonder what the heck I’m doing with myself.
I’m so glad your mom was supportive. That means so much. Very cool. And, if you ever let go of your dream of writing, we’ll all come and find you and plop you down in front of a computer til you write again.
I’m glad you’re feeling better.
Aw, thanks, Cristy! Your support is one of the things I can always count on.
LOL Sugar! One of the best pieces of advice I ever got was “Figure out what you want then figure out what you’re willing to give up to get it.” LOL Funny thing is though, the stuff we gave up (e.g. steady paychecks, office “friends”/aquaintances) we found that we didn’t need and didn’t really care about in the first place.
Great post, and now, I have a few minutes left to get MY post of the week written!
Best,
Stasha
And cheers to the wonderful woman who inspired this post!
great post