Note: It's been a while since I've written one of these. I'm going to do a lot of complaining because this shit in my head is beginning to drive me nuts and if I don't get it out soon I might hurt someone- perhaps myself. You might want to just scroll down past this one.
A lot's been going on lately- or, actually, not much at all, which is part of the problem. Last month I got fired from my job. I was the senior graphic and web designer there and they let go of me because I "have poor communication skills, have a different idea of design, have an attitude problem and have been difficult to work with." Of course, it's utter bullshit, but I packed my things and left. I didn't really want to, but I guess I got what I deserved. We'd spent three weeks on one splash page for the corporate website. When it was done it looked like crap. It was exactly according to spec, just the way the boss wanted it, but it still looked like crap and the boss said to scrap it. I got inspired at 4 AM that morning to rework the entire thing, got it done in 2 hours and waited for the boss and CEO to see it. They liked it. At which time I told them that I did it in 2 hours, not 3 weeks and if they would simply trust me to do my job, things would go a lot quicker. I also told them that they didn't know their ass from a hole in the ground when it came to design, which is exactly why they hired me in the first place. I was "let go" a few hours later.
Funny thing is that they contracted me last week to redo their version of the splash page (which sucked), giving me only a few hours to do it. Two and a half hours and $50 later my work was done. I just spent the last of that money earlier this evening and I'm once again penniless.
Since I got laid off I've been struggling just to make ends meet. I've done a few odd jobs here and there (even ripped up a hardwood floor for $50) to keep food in my stomach and cigarettes in my lungs, but times are tough right now. I've been living on the good graces of my friends and rush design jobs, but it isn't enough to keep me healthy and happy. "There but for the grace of God go I." All in all, I've made about $300 this last month- and I'm still $50 behind in rent. Tomorrow I'm supposed to take a job as a host at a local resturant, but I'm doing that reluctantly. Dammit, I'm a graphic designer, not a fucking dinner host.
I haven't been able to write worth a damn because I've been under so much stress lately. Creatively I've been drying up at an accelerated rate and it's ruining my soul. I live to create. My novel has hardly been touched and I've been less than happy with the small amount of design work I've done of late.
Friends keep telling me that things will pick up, that money will start rolling in as soon as people realize the artistic potential that's going to waste in me. But you know what? It's horseshit. I can appreciate my friends being supportive, but platitudes don't put food on the table. I need to be self-sufficient. I'm beginning to feel guilty when friends buy my coffee or pay for pool games for days on end. I have a very independent heart and being at the mercy of my friends for assistance bugs the shit out of me. I love them, I do, but I'm beginning to resent my growing debt to them. I know that I'd do for any of them what they've done for me, if I was in a position to, but it still irks me that I'm repeatedly asking for help.
So... I'm getting a shit job at a dead-end place, doing something I absolutely do not want to do. But it's better than feeling like a mooch. Maybe, when my bills and responsibilities are taken care of, my mind will unclutter and I can begin writing again. Damn, it's a good story, but my heart just isn't in it now. Too much other shit to stress about.
Stress, stress, stress. It's going to fucking kill me one day. Loneliness, confusion, dating, women, money, bills, debts, impending war, friends, work, faith... it's all been running around in my head like a skipping record, over and over again, plaguing my mind like a bad Jerry Lewis joke on a feedback loop.
I'm getting sick and tired of being sick and tired. This depression is going away, dammit, even if it's the last thing I do. I am going to forcibly drive this shit away. I need to start feeling more confident and sure of myself. I need to work again, even if it's a job I hate. I need to get out of the house and eat more than one meal a day.
I miss not being able to stop at Borders to buy a book when I feel the urge to read something new. I miss not being able to go out and see a movie when I feel like it. I miss not stopping off at Mr. Kim's Japanese resturant every Wednesday. I miss my old life, dammit, and I want it fucking back.
Joblessness sucks. Being broke is worse.