Hello Again Holly! I responded on Kate's board too, but am also posting here
by Mary Anne
Wow, Holly - there is so much to say about what you offer this week, yet too personal to post on a message board. Maybe we'll talk about some of this stuff on the phone sometimes. But, I'll comment on the poem.
As a lot of people here know, I'm a freelancer in the publishing field (as of now, I am editing books before they are published). I only have to go to work a couple days a week, but work at home the rest of the time.
I can relate to Andy's poem - BIG TIME - because during my commute, I see so many business people, with their cell phones, scurrying about like rats - always in a hurry, pushing, shoving with distant looks on their faces. Both sexes old before their time - and nobody happy. Never smiling. The only time these people are happy or smiling is if it is Friday, or they are talking on their cells phones about their vacation. It is so sad to see these "monkeys in the cages".
Now, me, on the other hand - practically a starving artist (not really, but by New York standards, yes) - I take my time going to work. Even though my job is cool - I consider it my "Taxi" gig. Because like Andy's Taxi gig, this editorial position pays my rent - but my creative writing gigs are what keep me going - my will to live. And even though Andy hated Taxi, it was still an acting job, and Andy was an artist. - And even though I sometimes hate to commute or have too much work to do at home, it's still a publishing job, and I am a writer. What is life if you can't get up in the morning and be happy about what you do?
I may not have a Jacuzzi in my home or drive a Saab (at this moment, anyway, heh!) but I sincerely believe that I am a million times happier than all the people I see every day in their "cages". I've had very decadent moments in my life, and even at the age of 37 - I wouldn't trade my life for anyone elses.
And on the flip side of the coin, today I was having lunch at a fancy Vietnamese restaurant, thinking to myself how spoiled I am. Rarely do I dine at a table without fresh flowers, because life is too short. To me, hearing a date say the words, "Let's take a cab" is sexier than the words, "I love you." It is if I am living a Moet Chandon dream, on an Asti Spumonte salary. And did Andy not also over-extend his budget as well? And don't we all - if not with money, but with love and life itself? Why isn't it enough to get my work published in a major magazine, but I also must get paid and attend the release party as well?
Should I be applauded for living my life to the fullest? Or am I just a monkey too?