through the stuff. I barely got started skating in the buffalo herd when my front wheels snagged a marvel of a pile! I avoided being trampled to death by several large and stinky buffalo by singing very loudly. I went home immediately and called my mother to thank her for always telling me not to put beans in my ears.
3. Managing Your Fortune from Your Workdesk
I am probably one of the most inept financial planners in the country. My check book is balanced maybe once every year. In the past, I have bounced checks three times in one month. All the banks are begging for me, because I'm the queen of fee paying.
I do however have an intense sense of responsibility, even if my math can't back me up. This means that I guesstimate my financial balance rather than figuring up my actual bottom line. So, I pay out like a coward for the things I have to, and then hunker down into non-spending "play dead" mode until the evil cloud of bank statement has passed over and I find I am still in the black. This is, roughly my saving plan - fear. It's worked thus far, and somehow or other, people think I know what I'm doing. I've had friends and family tell me how impressed they are by my financial prowess (doesn't say much for them, does it?), my earning capabilities, my saving strategies. Little do they know how wrong they are. But I keep it to myself.
There is one thing that I do actually take pride in, and that is my fifty dollar savings account. I never touch it, it never changes, either up or down. No fees, no transactions, no interest. Just fifty bucks lying low and waiting for the second coming. Someday as a keepsake I'm hoping that that account will be worth a lot of money.
4. Dizzy vs. Drunk
An artist needs a vice. A substance they can abuse. An escape they can take. A means of self-destruction and pathos to really free up their inhibitions. I'm not sure when I formulated this theory, but it seems to hold up with few notable exceptions. I have no vice. I am an artist. Therefore, something might be terribly, terribly wrong with me. After I considered this for a long time, I decided to try and find a vice that would suite my personality, my talents, my energy level, and - most importantly - my budget. Those of you with a vice will sympathize with how expensive a well-groomed habit can be. There is all the hassle of experimenting, choosing, finding, buying, and taking the chosen substance. Not to mention the hours of guilt and self-loathing to follow that inevitably eat up valuable creative time. So, I came up with alcohol. Expensive, yes, but not so much if you drink alone, which is preferable for depressed artists anyways. I bought a bottle of (cheap) wine, drank it and waited for the inevitable torrent of halucinagenic inspiration that would follow. Watch out, Poe, here I come!
Unfortunately, it never came. I was tipsy for a while, I had a surge of hormonal imbalance which proved neither inspiring nor fruitful. I tried to write, but the page kept tilting. About one hour later, the buzz died down and I was left with nothing to show for it, but bad breath and a slight headache. To make matters worse, I couldn't fall asleep. Alcohol, for me, is apparently a stimulant. That's when I realized I was not cut out for the vice side of life. And then two months ago I discovered, almost as if by magic, a vice that was cheap, quick and practical: spinning. If I spin for approximately one minute, I maintain a lightheadedness much like an alcohol induced buzz. It fades quickly and leaves no side affects allowing me freedom to continue working. So, now, I grab a hit in the bathroom or on the elevator or just before bed. Anytime, anywhere. No dealers, no interventions, no repercussions. Just the odd bruise or two.
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