Caterwauling

Now that I’ve gone and told everyone where to find me, I start thinking about moving this blog to a subfolder of this site. 🙂 Don’t move your bookmarks just yet, though. I’m still trying to sort it out.

In good news, I got my business cards today for my freelancing business. Hooray! They’re so pretty. Glossy, shiny, new and MINE. Mine, all mine. My business. My future. My PRESENT. I was like the dorky guy on the commericals who gets his new business cards and furtively sniffs the freshly printed paper, reveling in the scent of the fresh ink where his name is now printed.

I kind of did that at the post office today. I was mailing a letter off to my good buddy Isabel, and she got the first business card of the bunch. 🙂 I almost wept when I saw my perfect little cards. I didn’t order a ton of them, just enough to get by for the next couple of months. Hopefully, I will have a grand identity and logo to launch when the time comes to re-order.

Anyway, I got to thinking about blog names. Of course, I would want something related to journalism, because that’s the highly esteemed educational degree I hold. But it’s funny about journalistic terms — they’re macabre, to say the least. We “kill” stories we don’t want or need and offer “kill fees” to authors for their trouble. We write “heads” and “cutlines.” “Deadline” was a prison term back in the days of stockades. Your lead paragraph of a story is the “nut graf” (not so much morbid but appropriate — it’s usually a nut who’s writing it!). Our archives are “morgues.” We “bury” fluffy stories in the back of an edition. Etcetera. People call us renegades, muckrakers, watchdogs. The general public talks about “violence in the media,” not understanding that the violence is in the WORLD and we’re just responsible for telling them about it.

Thus, you see the conundrum in coming up with an intriguing blog name when this is the material with which I have to work!

Suggestion box (er, the comment box) is below — what would you name this joint?

On iTunes: Shawn Mullins, “Lullaby”

Unemployment is at its lowest point ever (so the local news says), yet I am among the few who hold that honor. I don’t know why more people aren’t doing it — unemployment is fun!

Actually, I shouldn’t talk in those terms. I am SELF employed. Damn it. 🙂

Had a crappy breakfast at the local greasy spoon. Normally, I ask them to hold the side of pancakes, but today, I’m glad I didn’t because the breakfast was burned to a crisp. I ordered bacon, not beef jerky. And while I typically greedily consume eggs, well, today they just looked at me like, “I dare you to eat my runny goodness.” Ugh. (Yes, one day without gainful employment and I’m already conversing with my breakfast.)

The service wasn’t so hot either, and my server only had three tables. I’ve been in there before and know she has worked there for at least a year. I tipped well, because that’s just me, but I generally hate to tip at all when I have to go in search of my own coffee.

Nearly everyone in the joint was by himself or herself. We all brought paperwork or newspapers — anything to avoid the flashing signs above our heads that read, “I’m dining alone!” I had brought bills and my checkbook, writing out the remaining drops of funny money on car insurance, property tax and a parking ticket. I can’t afford to pay for the fucking car, what with all the incidentals.

Attempted to take my car to a shop to get new shoes (tires) and brakes, but nobody would wait on me and I refuse to reward such shoddy customer service. The mechanics were either smoking cigarettes in the parking lot or sitting at the desk with their feet propped up. I gave it five minutes because I know this place would give me the best price on what I need. But if there’s one thing I understand, it’s providing customers with the royal treatment (when you’re in business for yourself, you gain a whole new appreciation of this). And when you work really hard for your money, well, you want to spend it in establishments that value you just as much as your money. It’s one thing to spend $10 on a breakfast, but another thing entirely to be prepared to spend $400 to keep your car running.

In any event, I did get a lot of personal business done today. Next on the list is to register my businesses with the city and to get those new shoes for the car (I have to look at it as shoe shopping — that’s always been something that has brought me pleasure!). I also have coffee planned for tomorrow night with some Passion Parties colleagues. Yeah, so far I’m doing a lot of money spending and not so much money making, but it’ll more than even out with all the preparation I’m doing.

In any event, the sun is shining — both outside and inside my heart. For as stressful as today has been and tomorrow may be, though, it’s good to be me.

On iTunes: Cary Brothers, “Blue Eyes”

Typically, at the tail end of a holiday weekend, I have one of two reactions. One, I probably worked on the holiday and would be bemoaning the fact that everyone else had a long weekend but I did not. Or two, I’d be getting the back-to-school butterflies.

I started to get the butterflies tonight, and instinctively, I started making some hot chocolate to soothe my nerves so that I wouldn’t be awake half the night, dreading the workweek.

But then I remembered …

I DON’T HAVE A JOB ANYMORE.

And while the financial future is a scary one (that should, admittedly, be causing gastrointestinal activity more similar to trapped hornets than butterflies), I became almost giddy at the fact that I don’t have to go into the old office anymore. Not that I didn’t like my job — I loved it, actually — but I won’t duck in late and hope to not be noticed as I futz with my key in the door. I won’t have to dart to the coffee pot and jet back to my office, where I kept my own personal supply of creamer and Splenda, to avoid fumbled too-early-in-the-morning chitchat over the murky brew. I won’t see the light on my voice mail lit up with some misdirected caller who landed in my VM box because they know my name or they met me at some function and hope I can redirect his or her request to the right person or, as they always ask, if I can just handle it myself because they trust me.

Tomorrow, I will awaken without an alarm. I will make coffee and curl up on the couch with the remote and a pack of Camel Lights. I will giggle at Jerry Springer and dance with Ellen DeGeneres. I will go to the dollar store to pick up paper towels, check my post office box and maybe go vacuum my car. Or not. Whatever — it’s my time now.

I’m on vacation — in my own mind, anyway. My goal is to not look for full-time work because that’s a life that never truly suited me. I will look for freelance projects soon, though, because one cannot live in D.C. on dreams alone. But tomorrow is not that day that I figure out the rest of my life. No, tomorrow is the day I enjoy as the first day I’ve never needed to be anywhere or call/meet with anybody.

It’s a good feeling. And now, I am sipping hot chocolate and having my last cigarette of the night, but there’s no pressure to crawl into bed because there will be no alarm to jolt me into functioning in seven hours.

I’m starting to live the life I’ve coveted for so long. Makes me wonder why I didn’t do it sooner. I think everyone in the world would be happier if work wasn’t the No. 1 priority in life.

On iTunes: Melissa Ferrick, “Feel Like Makin’ Love”

My heart just did a little jump. I signed up for a seminar at the Virginia Press Association — an all-day affair on business reporting. Normally, were I still gainfully employed, I would have heard about this and said, “Damn, it falls on my editorial deadline day. Maybe another time.” But not today — I am free as a bird now. Not only will I have a chance to learn and to network, but it’s also a tax write-off.

I took great joy at striking “editorial deadline” off my calendar and writing my new plans over it. Much as I would rather have a paying gig, I delighted in feeling like a “grown-up” who is truly in charge of her own schedule. Why didn’t I quit the “real job” circuit sooner?!?!

Well, I’ve done it. I’ve quit my job and moved all my office furnishings into my dining room.

It’s exciting, really, even though I left in a hurry, with no savings or anything. Sometimes, you just have to stand still for a moment and let the wind pick you up and carry you to your next destination. Or, in my case, destinations. I’ve held a lot of very different jobs in my life, and today is the day I begin taking what I loved from each one and parlaying those elements into my future.

An old colleague of mine works for himself now. He once warned me that being self-employed isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, because your new boss is a real asshole and there’s no escaping that person because, well, it’s YOU.

It’s a chance I’m altogether too glad to take, however.

I’ve decided I won’t *officially* start my freelance odyssey until Tuesday, the day after Labor Day. I am taking this weekend to detox and give myself a true emotional dialysis from the life I used to have. In the meantime, I’ve transformed the lovely glass-and-wrought-iron dining room table into my new executive desk. I’ve got tons of Passion Parties catalogs piled up (hint, hint — host a party with me, pretty please! *bats eyelashes*).

One thing I’ve decided is to not fret about where the next paycheck is coming from. I’m sure that day will come and probably sooner than I’d hoped, but I’ve never had any doubt as to my ability to land on my feet, and this is my chance to see if I’ve got what it takes to become my own personal corporate empire.

Barbara J. Winter, one of my favorite authors, says that the joy in working for oneself is that all of one’s days are pre-paid. Meaning, work your tail off, but know that you can take a break at any time because you have earned it. No more begging a boss to let you take off a month because you don’t feel like working. That’s unheard of in the land of strict leave policies. Now I get to set my leave policies, and let me just say, it’s divine, because I’m taking three weeks to myself to travel. Three weeks! I intend to return as refreshed as one can be. I will see family in Pittsburgh and in Springfield, Ore. And when I come back, I will definitely be project-hunting and writing for sale like there’s no tomorrow, but I look forward to my next break — probably in the summer. This from the girl who’s never had a real vacation in her life. I’m so excited about being me — truly, I’ve never been this happy to be alive. I’ve never been this scared, either, but I’ve no time for fear right now.

A teeny, tiny part of me wants to be successful to spite those who said I couldn’t make it happen. But really, I want to dazzle for the benefit of those who never expected anything less from me.

Coming soon — my professional website, where you will be able to hire me and pay me extraordinary amounts of money for my expertise in

Professional/technical writing

Editorial services (writing, editing, Associated Press style expertise)

Event planning

Media relations/promotions

Keep checking back for updates, or e-mail me at dp AT thisdomain DOT com for a private consultation.

Thank you for visiting!