Why Does the Caged Bird Sing

Well, I'm back in the saddle again... sort of.

Yesterday was my first day at a regular job as a writer for a techie magazine. Aside from the deja vu moment because of the lack of Internet (shades of my previous job), it wasn't so bad and the people seem nice. (Note to self: If the boss says everyone in the office is an asshole, including himself, it's all good.)

Obviously, I took a cut in pay since I'm only working as a writer-- and on a 2-month limited period, too. But that's fine with me since I can take side jobs in order to supplement my income. (Which is why if anyone out there needs a writer, call or email me-- please? You wouldn't want a cat to starve, would you?)

Still, after last week's freelance stint where I earned a nice sum for a two-day job, I find myself pining for the loss of that sense of freedom. I presume those who do, know what I mean: after you get paid for a job you're good at, you're outa there. To go where you want to go, without being pinned down in one place, 9 hours a day, five times a week. And it's calling me, that freedom, like the Dark Force of Self-Sufficiency.

Unfortunately, I know the disadvantages of free-lancing. After I got paid last week, my joy knew no bounds... two days later, I was thinking: "Fuck. I have to get my next racket." Think of it as an addiction, except you get paid for it.

Which is why I envy those who do freelance, that they are able to actually shrug away the insecurities and fears of not knowing where their next pay check is coming from.

It's a shitty kind of life, but it's wonderful to be that free.