so its been awhile since i had any kind of work. almost 3 weeks (since christmas, to be vaguely exact).
and there comes a point when you start to get desperate.
"My God if i don't get some work soon i'll starve!"
so you grab anything and everything that comes along.
and it rips your soul right out of your body.
you cringe at the very thought of the impunity of what you're doing.
"this is exactly the reason why i decided to freelance, dammit! so i don't have to do shit work that i don't enjoy! so that i can feel good about myself and what i've done at the end of the day."
but the stomach growls and the future looms. the prying eyes probe at the idleness of a wasted life.
"are you going to do this forever? i mean, you've done it for almost two years now and it doesn't seem like you're going anywhere with this." says the successful property sales executive who works 60 hours a week raking in the big bucks.
in a country that doesn't respect it, passion can only take you so far. passion won't put food on the table. it won't buy your clothes or put a roof over your head.
i don't assume to have it. because Sales Executive is right. if i were as passionate about what i do as i always claim to be, wouldn't i have "done something" by now? shouldn't i be succuessful enough so that subsistence is merely an aside?
where is the drive that comes with passion?
where did i put mine?
