Free...lance

Blogging is dead. Long live.......living.

That's what I've been doing lately. Sort of. I've mostly been tricking people into paying me to write, which seems nice. I wake up when I want, sleep when I want and fill the time in between researching, writing and drinking copious amounts of coffee (on the weekends, alcohol). But now I know why writers are all insane. Disconnecting yourself from society for such extended periods of time gets a little...disorienting. I'm beginning to miss waking up every morning, commuting into the city and doing a job where only 45% of my brain needs to be present. I'm a lot more productive now, but not seeing the sun for days on end, communicating with people solely through the phone and email makes it feel like I do nothing. I jump at any and every opportunity to move and be amongst the living.

I think there's a sense of false security that comes with imposed routine. Steady paycheck, health, dental, 401k, lunch at one o'clock, answer the phone, make phone calls, expensive sandwiches, overweight boss, blah-fucking-blah. I'm making more money now than I was at my last job (that's not really saying much though because I was getting slave wages), but then I was getting the same amount at the same time. Now it's two articles one week, five another, more money, less money, no insurance, what if one of my editors decides that I suck? I'm treading water.

I'm also pretty tapped out.

Now, I have a deadline tomorrow, so if you'll excuse me...

-L