Alive and Kicking, Kicking for Your Love
It's true I've never updated my blog religiously, but that's only because I didn't want to go through all the trouble to get a blog-friendly prayer mat, blog-scented incense, & cyber-silver blog offering plate (e.g. the ever-popular "Donate to me via Pay Pal" crap).
But there has been a rip in the blog space/time fabric since I last bragged, er, I mean, blogged here.
See I got me a shiny new job. I'm the in-house writer for a TV network that shall remain nameless.
The bad of it was that I had to quit my Comedy Central freelance stuff. You'd better check out the links to my stuff on ComedyCentral.com before they go all Felber-free.
The good of it is I'm working with wonderful people, I dig the new challenges and frankly, having been a freelance writer/performer since I left Comedy Central's staff in '98, having a regular gig is appreciated. There are lots of excellent perks to being staff in TV that I had forgotten about.
Some of the perks may not seem so great to you. On my first day when I went to the supply closet and the guy loaded me up with pens -- FREE PENS!-- why I almost cried with happiness. I'm serious. Easily pleased, I guess.
Still I wouldn't trade my freelance carving-out-a-life experience for anything. Although I didn't rake in the money (except that full year I wrote and produced promos for Lifetime and was still able to hold down a bunch of other jobs... ah, those were the days) I never had a day job, I didn't have to carry office politics around my neck, I did what I pleased and I never had a job that wasn't writing or performing.*
The freelance artist life is good. I recommend it highly. If being a freelancer doesn't kill you, it might just make you stronger.
And even if it doesn't make you stronger, it will certainly make you appreciate the free pens.
Love 4 and to my 4 loyal readers,
*I am leaving out my brief stint this December as a Tarot-reading psychic at Cornell medical school's HR department's Christmas party that took place at an Upper East Side Mexican Restaurant. I also neglected to mention the talent agency that booked me into a few weeks of taking surveys at both Harlem and Ozone Park Citibank's while giving away shitty water bottles while wearing an embarrassing, huge Citibank polo shirt. I do not mention these in my artist pep talk because they are too embarrassing to share and would certainly ruin my glamorous queen of all media/sexpot image.**
** I am also leaving out the horror of having no health insurance and I must therefore thank the cab drivers of NYC for not running me over during those years and my body for only giving me ailments that could be either painfully endured yet neglected for long periods of time or ailments that, in lieu of anti-biotics could be effectively treated by consuming enough Nyquil to kill a Kodiack bear.***
***I'm not sure if I spelled "Kodiack" right. You see I just read an article in Vanity Fair on some bear nut guy who travelled to Alaska only to get mauled in the end but I was sleepy and/or on the subway when I read it.****
****Oh, nothing more to say, I've simply gone asterisk-happy.