This writing
Bank of America is making out like a fucking BANDIT on my overdraft fees, let me tell you, and the people I owe money to are NOT happy with me. At all. But what can I do? If the money ain't there it ain't there.
I cut back on my spending all I could; I've hardly bought anything that wasn't edible since Christmas. All I do is hand over my measly check to my landlord, Con Edison, Foodtown, the NYC MTA, National Grid, Cablevision and Verizon.
That leaves me with $2.50 for everything else. Right. So you see my problem.
I really have tried to stick with it because it's my dream. Hell, I
But it seems to me, more and more everyday, that I can support my family better if I just went back to answering phones for a living.
How sad is it that I can easily double my salary by taking a job that I'm grossly overqualified for? But my kids have to eat. And N has outgrown all of her pants. And K needs money for her 8th grade graduation fees. And Sallie Mae isn't going to take much more of me dodging her phone calls and notices.
Deep down inside I know that I could totally live with the $2.50 in my pocket and get by, but not with kids. The bohemian, starving-artist look doesn't bode well when you have babies who say to you every two seconds, whether they've eaten or not, "I'm hungry."
My soul cannot take hearing those words. I never wanted for food or anything while growing up. I'll be god-damned if my kids do, just because I want to call myself a writer.
So if you're looking for me this weekend, I'll be the one in the library combing through the "executive assistant" want ads. Nobody cares about talent anymore. My spirit has officially been broken.
Writing can suck it!
*no smooches...I'm too depressed to pucker up*
-------------
and I can't even play the victim here; this is exactly what I deserve for the choices I've made in my life. C'est la vie! I'll know better next time around. I hope.
Posts
