A Real Job

by Lisa   

    Bill is out of town AGAIN, leaving me to steer this blog ship AGAIN. He is out of town on business, for Bill has a real job. Wow. A real job. Imagine that. A job where one gets paid to show up and work a certain number of hours a day, and in exchange, one gets money, paid vacation, sick days, 401K, and even sexual harrassment (Bill tells me this is a benefit if he could just get some).

     I have never had a full time job as such. I have lived the life of a bohemian, free spirited, transient, flighty (feel free to stop me), scattered, starving artist. At times I pine away for a life of routine and stability, tired of the struggle. I want to get up at 5:30 every morning, and value my weekends. I want the cleaners to know me by name. I want a charge account at Victoria’s Secret just for panty hose (are they still worn…are they still made?) I want to walk into a doctor’s office, and not fear thousands of dollars worth of debt because you say “Doc could you feel this?”. I want to go to conventions and get hammered.

     I want a real job…for one day.

     Face it. This is me:

atop_pedastal.jpg

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8 Responses to A Real Job

  1. grfxho says:

    I worked at a medical school for a few years, and I wouldn’t ask ANY of those people to “feel this”… Bunch of lechers.

    Nice photo, Lisa.

  2. kevmoore says:

    I had a real job once, just after I left college and didnt know any better. It is singularly overrated as a serious pursuit. I was told that working in an office was a respectable position, despite the fact that I earned more in my summer job at Woolworths stacking boxes in one week, than I did in a month in the office. And when I finally came to my senses and got a job with a band playing in Scandinavia, which paid 2 and a half times my office wage, my soon to be former boss was compelled to tell me “you’re so brave, taking this risk”. I, on the other hand thought, “are you crazy? it takes more guts to put up with this place for the next thirty years!” An interesting footnote is that the Power Station where I worked has now been decommisioned, so I would have been out of a job, and here I am, nearly thirty years later, still a working musician. Job, schmob!

  3. Miki says:

    I had a real job too, 12 long years, a real good job where I was paid a lot and had a lot of responsabilities and even freedom. I was quite happy. But one day I noticed that in fact the job was “eating” me from inside, and when I looked at me with my inner eye in my inner mirror, I could not recognise myself anymore! Where was the Gypsy, the Revoltee, the Untamable gone? (Sorry for these words, I don’t know them in English, I hope you understand them though…). I was horrified!
    I then simply stopped to work, from one day to the other, and went on as a painter. And promised myself:
    “Never again a normal job, not even for one day!”
    Until today I haven’t broken this promise, but who knows?!

  4. lbtowers says:

    Right on, fellow freedom fighters. However, I will remind you that where you live, you have socialized medicine!

  5. Carol King says:

    Oh, I soooooo want to be you. (And I STILL remember you said you were a size two!) I have a real job. I have a real job because I fear that if I don’t I will end up living in a box or wandering the subways talking to myself and asking strangers for spare change. (Not that I don’t wander the subways at times talking to myself.) To be a free spirit like you, one has to have the drive to actually get up every day and paint (or do something else.) I SAY I would paint during the week if I didn’t have my job, but I know in reality I would be in bed all day watching horrible daytime television and saying I should get up and paint. So I go to work every day and paint on weekends when I can. At least I don’t live in a box. (Though some may say my apartment is not much bigger than a box.) It’s cold on the East Coast right now.

  6. lbtowers says:

    No, you have a real life. A tangible life. Do not give up your day job. You will paint all you want later (so many of my students are retired people). You are right though, that one who is a free spirit, has to have the drive to get up every day and paint. Problem is ‘drive’ and ‘free spirit’ don’t fit real well in the same sentence, and that’s when one ends up asking strangers for spare change.

  7. wrjones says:

    Carol – She is a size 2 because she is a dwarf. She looks like a rounded shoe box.

  8. kevmoore says:

    Bill, I bet Lisa’s missed you….

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