There's no business like no business
I'm sitting at a desk.
I'm sitting at a desk in an office.
I'm sitting at a desk in an office that I used to work at before I ventured into the small business plane of despair, before I said goodbye to my time, my energy, my grasp on personal finances, on reality.
I'm not herding obnoxious children into small rooms with bright walls.
I'm not running bizarre errands, attempting to find ways to bridge the gap between my bosses constant big ideas and their ever complicated literal realization.
I'm not lambasting lazy contractors and lethargic landlords in hopes of landing what in layman's terms might be described as 'the goods'.
I'm not hating life or the people around me.
I'm not even overly bothered by the fact that although everyone seems to want me to work for them, no one seems to want to lock down a schedule with me. I currently have two jobs where I can 'just show up and work whenever'. If I were the bionic man like I was in college and didn't need insurance, or a drug addict and preferred that kind of non-committal employer/employee thing, that would be one thing. I'm neither. I'm a thinker and a worrier with bad Southern winter allergies and the only substance I abuse is sugar. And right now, the days go by just a little too quickly for my taste.
In other news, I had a pretty good callback for a new musical theatre piece based on the children's book 'Alexander and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day'. Even if I don't get the part, I can rest assured that nonetheless it was a role I was born to play. Or be. Depending on how broad a brush you paint with. Oh, and I'm beginning the process of thinking about looking into getting a house. Which, for a tight-fisted nomad like myself, is an almost unthinkable development. More on that later. For now, I'm going to lean back, kick off my shoes, and re-arrange my paper clip jar.
I'm sitting at a desk in an office.
I'm sitting at a desk in an office that I used to work at before I ventured into the small business plane of despair, before I said goodbye to my time, my energy, my grasp on personal finances, on reality.
I'm not herding obnoxious children into small rooms with bright walls.
I'm not running bizarre errands, attempting to find ways to bridge the gap between my bosses constant big ideas and their ever complicated literal realization.
I'm not lambasting lazy contractors and lethargic landlords in hopes of landing what in layman's terms might be described as 'the goods'.
I'm not hating life or the people around me.
I'm not even overly bothered by the fact that although everyone seems to want me to work for them, no one seems to want to lock down a schedule with me. I currently have two jobs where I can 'just show up and work whenever'. If I were the bionic man like I was in college and didn't need insurance, or a drug addict and preferred that kind of non-committal employer/employee thing, that would be one thing. I'm neither. I'm a thinker and a worrier with bad Southern winter allergies and the only substance I abuse is sugar. And right now, the days go by just a little too quickly for my taste.
In other news, I had a pretty good callback for a new musical theatre piece based on the children's book 'Alexander and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day'. Even if I don't get the part, I can rest assured that nonetheless it was a role I was born to play. Or be. Depending on how broad a brush you paint with. Oh, and I'm beginning the process of thinking about looking into getting a house. Which, for a tight-fisted nomad like myself, is an almost unthinkable development. More on that later. For now, I'm going to lean back, kick off my shoes, and re-arrange my paper clip jar.
posted by Master of None at 2:43 PM
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