Panic

I always speak pretty highly of the freelancing life--the late nights and late mornings, the independence, the avoidance of working with idiots, etc. But there is a serious downside to it, and I think I'm experiencing it now. August is a pretty slow time in New York in general--everybody goes out to the Hamptons or some similarly over-hyped beach area. What I usually plan to do is have enough money to get me through August into September, but alas, this year, that simply is not the case.

My level of poverty is so low that I've simply stopped leaving the house, except for dogwalks and general constitutionals (so I won't become one of those Addams-family type recluses). Anything else involves the spending of money, of which I have none. It's an interesting idea, to slow down and stop moving as much as possible so as to maximize resources and efficiently spend the pennies I find in my couch. But it's actually a terrible way to live. It's moments like these that I imagine people in their windowless offices, slaves to the wage clock, yet comforted by the knowledge that however bad their day is, they're going to get paid nonetheless, and the workday won't bleed into a worknight.

Hopefully things will change soon. I've got some small projects to nibble on, but the big ones that I am waiting on--the real estate blog, some PR work, a new book proposal--are not coming in yet and certainly won't be paying my bills for a couple weeks yet. It's a terrible feeling to come to a complete standstill, hoping that if you don't move, you won't be hemorraging money as usual. Yet another reason that us self-employed freelance types are in the minority--lots of wear and tear on the nerves, and we sometimes don't know why we do it either.