Even a confidant, beautiful, avant garde goddess has a bad day from time to time. A day where you deserve a standing ovation for just making it out of bed and into the shower. Today was one of those days.
I am an unemployed writer. There. I said it. And yes-it hurt. I finished my last project a month ago. I did re-writes on a trashy romance novel that's being adapted into a screenplay. Oddly enough-I have no romance in my life right now. Although my existence has been playing out like a bad romcom...Just this week, one of my girlfriends, Leslie, really pissed me off. She is an out of work executive assistant who's been living off of her boyfriend, Rick for the past year and a half. She's funny. Smart. Slightly overweight, which one wouldn't realize, except she points it out to people. Leslie is 98% bubbly spirit and about 2% ambition. She has almost no drive when it comes to her career. In fact, Leslie's shown no real initiative or desire to return to the work force. Leslie is not a writer. She's never expressed any interest, talent or dreams of writing. And three days ago, she called to tell me she got a new job. As a writer. Even worse. She's a travel writer. Yup. She stole MY dream job. She'll be writing stories for "The Voyager's Journal", an online magazine that I've submitted my work to multiple times. And the title of her first article?
"Up, up, and Away...Traveling First Class for the First Time"
I wanted to throw my phone at the wall when she told me that. First-for the corny title and second because she STOLE MY JOB. But I kept my cool and set down my cell. Lord knows I don't have the cash for a replacement iPhone. And instead of expressing my jealous outrage and indignation at how God could allow such a travesty to happen - I congratulated her and told her my kitchen was on fire and I'd have to call her later. Obviously, Leslie didn't take the hint, because she called me again last night to tell me Rick had proposed. FANTASTIC! Throw another nail in the coffin of my youth.
Don't get me wrong. I am happy for Leslie. It's just kind of hard to jump up and down with her as she celebrates her amazing new career and engagement. While I sit at home alone, 31 years old, out of work, single, and with no discernible dating prospects on the horizon. Leslie pretty much has the life I'd imagined for myself at 31.
So I allowed myself to mope for 2 hours today. I layed there in bed and let the envy and jealousy to wash over me. I imagined the beautiful house that I'd buy if I was bringing home Leslie's paycheck. The wedding dress that I'd wear if I were getting married "next September 8th at the Ritz Carlton in Marina del Rey". I thought about how I'd graciously thank all of my guests and look surprised when my muscular new husband scooped me up and carried me out to the white Rolls Royce waiting to take us to the Santa Monica airport to catch a private jet to our honeymoon in Bali. I'd toss my bouquet over my shoulder as an after thought while we sped off. And upon our return to the States, I'd write an article about the wonders of traveling through Southeast Asia with your best friend, husband and partner. And of course, I'd get nominated for a Lowell Thomas Award and I'd receive a Solas Award nomination.
And then, at 11:45am, I called THAT'S A WRAP! on my moping session. I dragged myself out of bed and into the bathroom. I stared into the mirror and faced my true reality. As I turned on the water and the mirror began to steam, I thought to myself-Hey, at least I showered today.
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