Hopes and Dreams

I haven't had a lot of success as a freelance writer; every job I apply for is apparently just to the left or right of my skill set and experience, and while I've been with a placement agency for nearly a year, they have not yet been able to match me with a gig. If it weren't free, I would be a terribly bitter man. And as bills come due, my jazz bass is poised stoically in its stand, ready to do its time as a hostage in the hostile Republic of Pawnistan.

Obviously, it's been a little rough, so you can probably imagine my elation when I applied for and landed a gig proofreading a 95-page book. To the tune of ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS. I know. It sounded like baloney to me, too. I mean, that's probably too much money to fix a lot of things (except the A/C in a van), let alone spelling and punctuation. Did I mention I found it on Craigslist? Well, I did. No fooling. And while every bit of this got fishier and fishier (the guy initially provided some credentials), I still took the job, because I need the money. And what to do with a thousand bucks!* A couple months paid on my car note, new brakes, maybe a plane ticket for Christmas--who knows?

Well, now I know. Long story short, my better judgment finally got its say when the address to which I was supposed to send a moneygram (less my fee, of course) turned out to be a Holiday Inn in Atlanta. I called my bank. According to the lilting accent on the other end of the help line, I just need to wait to see if the check clears, and then I'll know if it's fraudulent or not. I know, right? Totally comforting.

A scam is a scam and a scam is indiscriminate about who its mark is, but man, that's a cruel trick to play on freelancers. It's not exactly stealing from a homeless guy (well, not yet, anyway), but I hope there's a special place in hell for people who rip other people off.

Speaking of that, my car got broken into last night. But they couldn't just smash a window with a rock. Oh no. They had to throw it. Except from the looks of it, they had to throw it twice, because the first shot looks like it banged off the door frame, because now there's a nice big dent there. The pitcher got it together, though, since I had to drive home sitting on a pile of newspapers over broken glass. Among the items taken:

• My iTrip radio transmitter, paired with a cracking iPod cable
• A Fender pedal tuner which I have been trying to return to its owner for about a month
• My Blublockers
• The radio gate thingie for my apartment complex that cost $50 if you lose it
• The cassette tape from last Sunday's Vorvon jam.

You read that right. They stole a fucking cassette tape. Like the kind you used to record "November Rain" off the radio when you were a kid. Where do you even sell something like that?

And then later today, I had to suck it up and kill a wasp in my apartment. If you know me well enough, you will no doubt understand how a wasp fight would be the icing on a pretty crummy cake.

Not the best Wednesday I've ever had, that's for sure.

*You know The Pearl? Yeah, well I guess I need to read it again.