Friday, May 21, 2004


my art feeds me. but not well.

worried about money, worried about money. why is it so easy for other people to creep into debt, and six months of scraping by plus two dipping into savings is enough to render me sleepless? i cannot stand the idea of clinging to the cliff-face every month, never going on vacation, and wearing that goddamned pair of jeans two more weeks. let it be known, i am not a priss. after getting my first ten dollar manicure on a whim, i ceased and desisted because i couldn't conscience the petty cash. i have talked myself out of buying the expensive ketchup. when i eat out, it's a dollar-fifty sicillian slice on the corner.

it's just: i don't see a way out. the only way to make ends meet in a responsible fashion here is to work full time, and what i recall is that makes me a crazy bitch with no time to rehearse, audition or send out fruitless mailings. if only doing the show paid a little more. in chicago, the folks who do the show get a few hundred bucks a month. here: not enough to cover cabfare. oh, sigh.

i guess it means i should give full time another shot when my counseling job runs out. at this point, anything sounds like a good idea. i'm warning myself now, though. chances are, i'm going to hate the grind as much as i hate the poverty. and it won't even really get me out of the poverty zone.


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