Oregon, I’m ready

by Sandra

It’s Sunday night. I got sick last night, a culmination of several days of shallow breathing that suddenly turned into a soar throat last night and then swollen lymph nodes today. Fun! 

It’s a good thing I’m headed home on Wednesday—where Mom will be around to do the mothering that is written into her parental contract. Erik will be around, too, and while I’m there we’re supposed to take a weekend trip up to Seattle, and see my friend Michael and his band play a Kinks tribute concert. This is all provided I’m not so sick that I can’t get out of bed.

Since I’m not working right now, I wanted to extend my trip for another four or five days, but it seems like Alaska Airlines wants to charge me more to change my return flight than I paid for the original ticket. They want about $200!?! Does that seem right? Regardless, I’m taking it as a sign that perhaps I need to get back to L.A. to look for another part time job. But why? I’ve been having so much fun taking hikes and watching Freaks and Geeks on DVD and coming up with new granola recipes (I just pulled a ginger-date concoction out of the oven a minute ago), why do I need to get back to work?

Sigh. Sometimes I wonder how, in the face of a skyrocketing cost of living, everything will come together, how my ends will meet. I know that I’m not supposed to worry, as the lilies of the field do not spin, nor do the birds fret—and how much more precious than a sparrow am I? So I don’t worry, but I do wonder, but maybe the hard truth of it is that God’s like “c’mon sweetie, you’ve gotta pull your weight here, too,” and that probably includes working. 

And writing—criminy, I can’t forget that. I haven’t really been doing much of that since the semester ended, but yeah maybe I should. After-all, there’s a whole lifetime of writing ahead of me that doesn’t have anything to do with meeting deadlines and assignments. Dang it. This isn’t something that can just fall by the wayside—especially not with $100,000 worth of graduate school on the line.

Will I be able to find a job that melds these two together? Yes, I should hope so. But have you have met a playwright who makes a living writing plays? Please, introduce me. Even Gary Garrison, a head honcho at the Dramatist’s Guild, only started making a living writing recently. Before that he worked everywhere, even K-Mart. No job is too small for the struggling writer. Hey, Daphne’s up the street is hiring. I wonder what a part-timer there makes…

Alas, these thoughts are for a couple of weeks from now, when I am back ensconced in the smog of L.A. But first, for the next few days anyway, I get to enjoy the comforts and freedoms of home.

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