Let me start by saying that I love Rob Brezny and his whimsical atrological postings. Let me continue by saying that if one more horoscope tells me that I am the mantra and that I am the vehicle for that amazingly great change that is about to take place in my life, I will surely blow a gasket (whatever that is). Regardless of where the stars and the moon and the planets are hovering, life is still apparently on cruise control.

I first heard about the concept of self-administrated living from my therapist a couple of decades ago. She told me that what I did for a living didn't necessarily define me, and that how I perceived myself really was the key. I could work a 9-5 job until I kicked but still write that novel or paint that picture...blah blah blah. I am selfish and hungry, I want the whole magilla. I want to make money doing something I love that affects others and makes them feel something.

Whaddya mean that isn't on the menu?!

Speaking of menus...yup still working the restaurant beat. I have been reaching out though and I must say, it STILL doesn't feel better. I passed my resume on to a colleague's girlfriend who said she sees dozens of resumes at her job and would happily give me some good advice. Did she ever! She ripped apart my resume in a way that makes me question the attention span of the various friends that have reviewed it for me...she found a couple of small but nonetheless existent grammatical errors and seemed not to be terribly enthusiastic about my writing style. WELL!

I'd like to say her words didn't affect me at all, but of course, I am a moody artist at heart and frankly I feel pretty crappy. My fear is doing all the talking right now, stuff like, you can't write you loser and nice try going for an editorial job with that resume.

But then I started to think about it and I the truth is, I don't really care what she said. I appreciate the criticism but also realize that she is coming from a pretty conservative business sense. I want the fluffy and zany gigs, the assignments that make you groan and laugh at the same time. The rest be damned.

I want work that doesn't feel like work, which is precisely why I have lasted at the restaurant so long. I maybe working but I am not at a desk with pens and such being counted and tallied.

Oh shit, now I am late for a meeting...I get to go discuss bar issues such as which liquor is my cutomers' favorite...yay me.

ugh.