How I Started Freelancing, Or: This Economy Sucks!

I was unemployed for almost a year. During that time, I got really depressed, dropped out of school, and starting lounging around the house in my pajamas, getting more and more morose, and keeping a roof over my head by the grace of my very tolerant boyfriend and room mate, as well as money my parents had very generously given me after I had to admit that my lofty plans and goals were falling through, and I wasn't going to be able to keep up my end of the "graduate college and get a job" deal on the agreed time schedule.

I suspect that for my boyfriend and room mate, at least, my pathetic-ness was much helped by my pathetic cat. No one quite had the heart to throw both of us out, even after I ran out of gifted money.

I had a couple of crappy jobs during this time - as a bartender for a very shady strip club that never put me on the payroll and paid me by personal checks (also electrocuted me repeatedly and fired me for complaining), as a manufacturer of river rafting gear (yes, that job should probably be done by a robot), and as a receptionist (still have that job for a little longer actually), but nothing that made minimum wage and/or provided living hours.

I also became an expert at camping Craigslist and going to interviews with 8 million more qualified, older other people. It was the first time I considered taking my nose ring out, after my facial jewelry barred me from a job that I KNEW I was going to hate, KNEW was too far away and too early in the morning and I KNEW would slowly crush my soul every day. I just wanted to have a job - it was coming down to having my soul or having my self respect, and I was losing hope of attaining either.

Then, one day, justifiably concerned by my third straight day hanging out in bed, my boyfriend said to me, "Why don't you try freelancing? You did pretty well in the English AP exams, right?"
"...Yeah... but... so?"
"So someone might need an editor, or even a writer."
"I don't think so."
"You haven't even tried."
"Don't wanna try."
"Well, you can't sit around eating ice cream forever."
"Watch me. Besides, I clean house sometimes."
"Just try it, ok?"
"...Fine, whatever."

1 week and an ELance account later...

"I have 6 jobs!"
"How are you keeping track of all of those jobs? You can't even keep track of your keys."
"I'm an adult now. Also I have a spreadsheet."

(So I actually wrote this post before this comic. But I love it.)

And now: a blog. About being really ill suited for... pretty much any kind of job, finding my niche and making it work anyway. Hopefully someone will come across this in the depths of depression and it'll help.

Or else it'll just be funny. I think it's funny. Happy reading!