Validation through Currency

When the universe at large rewards us for doing something we love and excel at, it's a special moment indeeed. Congratulations go out to my friend Janeen, getting paid to blog at Club Mom. HOORAY JANEEN!

I refuse to give up the fight, so I take out the refuse. I am trying to make a legitimate living as an artist and as a storyteller, with the freedom to tell my own stories and be my own boss. Instead of tucking my tail between my legs and crawling back to a high-paying B2B, high-tech marketing copywriting gig (where I would be forced to write things like "The synergy of our newly updated interface combined with our industry exclusive relational-database driven backend, allows your business to e-tize its customer relations, therefore being more productive and earning more money for your bottom line."), I took a part-time job at the lowest level of employment at a grocery store. I bag groceries, sweep isles, and take out the fucking garbage. I have to keep reminding myself that I recently and actively chose to do this, especially when it feels so damn menial. My resolve has already been tested, when asked if I was interested in becoming a Senior Editor at a Seattle Met. I said, "No, thank you," knowing that the job meant working 50-60 hours for someone else, even though it would be doing something I enjoy and believe in. Everyday, I want. I have the wants bad. A new sofa, a new bed. A house. An electric bicycle. A new computer. Travel to tropical isles, not paid for by someone else, where I can be on my own schedule, and snorkel everyday. Extravagant gifts to family and friends. Diamond earrings. I want diamond earrings. I've either got to get rid of the wants or get the means to fulfill them, or some combintation of both. Right now, I want hundreds of dollars of colorful flowers to landscape a yard that isn't mine.