Everything will be all right

Thanks to a great deal of thinking and some expert advice from someone whose opinion I respect tremendously, I picked my prince.

Now to wait for the ring — er, in this case, letter.

This is the point that I need to be telling people that their princess is off the market. But I’m funny about that. What if things all go ka-plooey and, come that magical start date, I find that I need those gigs I’m giving up?

I’ve pretty much told everyone who needs to know except one. I will have to do that this morning.

I’ve also been working hard this week, minus just giving up early Monday afternoon and zoning out in front of the TV. I was kind of hoping for an easy couple of days. It’s not bad, mind you — just not exactly a vacation. I’ve been at this stupid computer all day, every day, for a year now. I’m just annoyed that I have nothing much to show for my time “off.”

On these same blog pages a year ago, I was ranting that freelance was the only way to go. Boy did I get my comeuppance. *points and laughs*

For the most part, freelancing has gone fine. Really, it’s the “where the fuck is my check?” shit that’s made this impossible. I can count exactly two people who paid on time, every time. (My favorite ex-boss, and my favorite ex-company.)

Other than that, I learned the hard way that money and friends don’t mix. Nobody ultimately gives a shit if you’re out on the streets … even if you earned every penny and more that you were promised but haven’t received … even if their unfulfilled promises are what got you to this absolute breaking point.

It’s also slightly amazing how people will let others treat you, too. Barking you around on a Saturday. Threatening you with “repercussions” when they already haven’t paid you — what, are they gonna kick you in this shin, too? Questioning your hours worked. Lying the ultimate lie: “The check is in the mail.” Lord.

THIS is why I’ve agonized so hard about moving on — I question my decision-making ability, after two failed full-time jobs and a baker’s dozen of hit-or-miss freelance experiences. What if the next full-time gig is another in a seemingly endless series of bad choices?

I take comfort in what The Daily OM said in yesterday’s e-letter:

“It is often at times like these that we take a job or move to a place without really knowing if it’s the right thing to do. We may ultimately end up leaving the job or the place, but often during that time we will have met someone who becomes an important friend, or we may have an experience that changes us in a profound way. …

“It’s fun to look back on past experiences with an eye to uncovering those gems—the dreadful temporary job in a bland office building that introduced you to the love of your life; the roommate you couldn’t tolerate who gave you a book that changed your life; the time spent living in a city you didn’t like that led you into a deeper relationship with yourself. Remembering these past experiences can restore our faith in the present.

Everything will be all right, one way or another. Or I’ll find a way to make it so. I always do.

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