Goodbye Cat Lady. You're Wasting My Time and I need to Go Now.

Freelance. It’s for people who value their sleep too much or don’t value it at all.

It’s for those who hate getting up the same time every day, or for the ones who really love getting up at random times of the day.

Freelancer…

If you ask any freelancer why they chose to freelance, their answer would most likely be: “I just don’t want to be tied down as an employee,” or “I want to be my own boss.” It’s usually built around those contexts. The way I see it, if you’re freelancing, doesn’t that make everybody your boss? It’s like giving up to be somebody’s slave, so that you could be a whole lot of other people’s slave (I was going to say b*tch instead of slave, but I wussed out). I mean, I should know. I’ve been in freelance for years now.

I am a freelancer; which also means I am broke. Yes, the dream of freelance work is not at all what was promised. In order to make it in the freelance business, you have to eat a lot of bull crap.

And I mean a lot. You’re going to have to gargle bull crap from people who think they are heaven’s creative gift to the human race. It’s either that or you can live on your principles. But believe me, only one of them will feed your hunger and it’s not your principles.  

Broke…

I am so broke, I need a replacement.

I am broke. But I do have prospects. Being broke is like being single in the dating scene. Prospects in this scenario are the dates you go to. Sometimes you get to meet the love of your life and you live happily ever after, on top of a mountain castle, with your beautiful, blonde-and-blue-eyed children. Sometimes you get to meet someone you might not end up with but you learn a lot and you grow and still stay friends; BFF’s even! But more often, you end up getting stood up, left hungry, feeling ugly, and kicked back into the uncertain playing fields of Tinder. Suffice to say, in freelance you either hit the jackpot or end up drowning in debt with no prospects whatsoever. But you risk it, because being broke just sucks. Nobody wants to stay single as much as nobody wants to stay broke.

Being broke is a choice though. 

Getting broke is a series of choices as well. I didn’t get here by anybody else’s hand. I got here by making really dumb choices. But making those choices felt like I was the master of my universe. It’s like having to make a diaper run on a Tuesday afternoon but you decide to smoke really good weed on the way there. Seemed like a good idea until you find that you’ve turned into Augustus Gloop when he busted through the doors to Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. The manager catches you running shirtless and shouting how awesome marshmallows are with ketchup and milk. Then you get arrested. Almost parallel to what will happen to you when you’re drowning in debt because you start making bad choices. See what I did there? Eh? Eh?

Back to point, being broke is a choice. By that logic then being “not broke” is part of that choice. The problem is when you’ve chosen to be broke, the world kind of works to make sure you stay there a bit. It’s like starting a conversation with an old cat lady; she just won’t shut up about her cats, their names and their talents. Don’t get me wrong, I like cats but there are just better things I should be doing right now.

But… Broke = some perks.

Having limited resources makes you appreciate the things you have been deprived of. I often joke that I don’t remember how it felt to have a full tank of gas in the car and that I am the only person who has ever worn out the empty gas indicator light. It’s a distinction I wear with pride. Being broke also made me resourceful. Who would’ve thought that the number of times you can wear the same pair of jeans does not rest on how dirty it is but rather how much you can withstand dirty laundry.

But I am done being broke.

To you my dear broke-ness; it’s been fun knowing all your cats but I am done with you. I need to get back to what I really should be doing, and that is ruling over my kingdom of mediocrity and taking over other mediocre kingdoms. Thank you for entertaining me though. Go bother someone else with your cat stories.

Fatal Attraction 2 a.k.a. My Bestfriend's Wedding

There is a sudden depreciation in bloggers recently. I assume that the fall in the population of online writers is because hipsters have found a new way of conveying their first world problems and emotional shit. In contrast to this fall, there is a rise in sales of Moleskin. Wow, pen and paper, what an original idea! But that’s the price of being a purist. Either way, it’s a good thing that they’re leaving because that means I can get back to blogging. 

My Best friend’s wedding.

If I ever got anything from this movie, I would say is Julia Robert’s character is the MOST DEVIOUS and CALCULATED VILLAIN ever created for a film. You may have been fooled by her foiled attempts on breaking up Michael and Kimy’s wedding during the first parts of the movie. I could even think that she planned those failed efforts to make her more endearing in the end. But not me. In the end, Jules won. Yes, you read it right, THE FOOD CRITIC GOT THE SPORTS WRITER IN THE END.

You have been blinded by the funny scenes, butt-less Cameron Diaz, low pro Paul Giamatti and a singing gay prostitute. This movie is about how devious a woman can get when she wants something that bad. It’s Fatal Attraction with big teeth and frizzy hair.

If I ask you, who did Michael end up with in the end? You would say Kimberly right? The choice is simple because the movie ended with them getting married. Wrong! Michael ended up with Jules with Millions of dollars.   

You remember Jules and Michael’s song? Of course you do, you’re probably singing it right now. Well, after the bullshit speech of Jules in the girl’s bathroom, the next scene was the reception. That’s when Jules gave another bullshit speech about her dream and blah, blah, blah. Then she says something like, “This song is on loan while you find your own song”. And what did the newlyweds do? They danced to the song. WHAT THE HELL? This was the song of Michael and Jules, the girl who tried to break up their wedding, and Kim just danced away. No, no, no, Kimy was just keeping it cool because people were around. Jules had planted the seed of animosity and it shall grow into a tree of loathing. You think Kimy would just let that go? It’s their first dance as a couple and their dancing to Michael’s ex-girlfriend’s theme song. 

The next time Michael comes home late smelling of booze, he’ll get a fast trip down memory lane. And when Michael’s fed up, she’ll divorce the hell out of Kimy and get out of the marriage a rich man. There is no way Jules didn’t know this. This was planned, maybe even planned with her gay friend.

This movie was written by a Ronald Bass and directed by P.J. Hogan. Both people responsible for the story are men. It’s their way of reminding all the men out there that women are always in competition. Now with this information, I release all you men to the world.

The Sounds of My Silence

I wheeze.

 

I’m not obese, though I may have gained a little over the years. I have a pot belly but not big enough to call me fat. I sound like a 60 year old fat drunk trying to get his keys out of his pocket after a night of boozing. Oftentimes when I’m sitting beside someone, they’ll turn to me and say,” I thought you were sleeping.”

The cause of my wheezing is not unknown and in fact I get tired of explaining it to people. I have sleep apnea. My air passages fall asleep whenever I sleep; talk about a very unsupportive respiratory system. My air passages may not have gotten the memo from the brain that they’re on graveyard shifts as well. Death is a very close alternative to not waking up. For some reason, people find it funny. They joke about how much my snoring sounds like putting a can into a blender or a really old engine. I just smile and laugh with them. At least I’m only ugly when I sleep. They’re ugly even when they’re awake (sorry for the bitterness, it’s been years of emotional battery).

 

I think sleep apnea is the only illness where people can laugh at you at your face. There are equally funny cases like hemorrhoids, elephantiasis or halitosis, but you can’t laugh in front of these cases. It’s looked down upon. But you do laugh at them when you’re with your NORMAL friends; no room for hypocrites here.  But with sleep apnea, they ask you how sick you are and then laugh at it. 

You don’t know how many times I’ve heard that I sound like someone being possessed when I’m sleep. And this is recurring; it’s the same joke a week after. They say the same thing when snoring becomes the topic. Being a dumbass may not have been proven as an illness yet, but it seems to be very contagious.

The best part about having sleep apnea though, is that I don’t get sleepless nights over it. You do.