2003-03-19

Well a lot of good all that thinking and hypothesising did me...

I have had to cancel two gigs in as many days because no-one showed up. I suck, obviously. What if I became a better person, was nicer to my mother? Would people come to my trivia shows then? Still it is only trivia.

Now hippy friends of mine would have me believe that the universe is trying to tell me something by all these cancellations of late, but what it is trying to say is a bit of a bloody mystery to me.

I'm a creative type on occasions, and it is generally understood in the world of creative types that there will be times when you have to work shit jobs for shit pay to fund your creative half life in the darker hours of the day. But I have been working shit jobs for shit pay for ten years, and currently i am working two jobs for pretty pitiful earnings, and I have absolutely no time to be creative at all. I don't count diaryland as creative for me (apart from femmeproject)- this is a steam blower more than anything.

It shocks me to see that I am currently earning less than I did in my first "serious" job working for Bangarra Dance Theatre as a fucking receptionist/PR assistant. What does that say about my career choices???? What does it say about me??? I am having an impending sense of doom as I near 30 and still have not as yet really DONE anything with my life. I don't own anything significant (unless a mangy cat with dreadlocks on his back counts), I haven't produced a serious or even hilarious work of note, I am still faffing about after nearly 10 years with a man who can't get his shit together enough to buy me a fucking engagement ring (which I don't even want anymore). I am overweight, I steal cigarettes and tell myself I am giving up smoking, I hardly go out to party, I work my arse off (or not, I still have a big arse), and in general I have achieved diddly squat with this precious thing called life. What a wasteful person I am!

Huh. This is a great pep talk to be giving myself while I am on the verge of losing one of my jobs, and therefore losing income which is barely enough as it is to pay for a crap 60's house in the biggest ethnic Nanna suburb in Melbourne. A house I don't even own. And how am I defining myself anyway??? By what I own? Oh puhleeeez, textbook depression on a direct bearing, cap'n. Or by what I do? Can a woman be said to be defined by the sum of her actions? Or even by how I react to the world around me? Of course I am defined by all this crap!!! I would be a fool to think otherwise. I live in a society, I interact with other humans, I ain't no fucking Kafka, Sartre, and definately not Dostoevsky. Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh. The bottom line is this...

I don't like who I am, what I do, or what i have become. And I have no idea where to begin to change it all. Perhaps I should begin by cleaning up my office. It calls me "Juuuuuuuladeeeeeeeee, Juuuuuuuladeeee, come and clean meeeeeeeee, you loooooooove me, get the Mr Sheen and rub me all over with it". But the erotic appeal of cleaning my office is pretty low on the points scale. And I don't think it would solve my current existential, financial or emotional crises.

Fuck, does it ever get easy?

I hope we don't get blown up tomorrow.

bitch - moan