I finally came around to reviving this blog today, after months of stopgapping my whole writing/work/life/happiness/very existence routine. Nothing worked but more writing, no surprise!

In any case, having actually made some real strides in my writing/working life of late, the inspiration flowed me right back into this blog. I wiped everything from its predecessor and started anew. Everything new. New design. New name. New work. New life.

Except there was one blog post stowed away in my drafts. This blog post, hanging on from a particularly inspired evening sometime last year when I first (officially) announced to myself my intention to quit my full-time bartending job and commence freelancing writing again… full-time.  The “full-time” is key here. It meant I would live on it, survive on it, rely on it. Make it work. All by itself.

I actually did this, but not until nearly a whole year, to the day, later. I made this seemingly life-changing discovery, and then proceeded to quit that job and take not one, but two subsequent bartending gigs, convincing myself somehow that each one would be the right one; that magic job that would solve all my problems and bolster my real career.

This post was written on June 24, 2014, and my last day managing a huge upscale Midtown restaurant bar was June 18, 2015. After declaring the whole job ordeal as over, I continued to knowingly dig myself deeper and deeper into the my-art-suffers-for-my-work hole for an entire year. This just goes to show you how hard lessons are learned: at a pace that would shame a fucking snail.

But that’s beside the point. It’s just all a part of the havoc that is the writing life, or at that this is my writing life. And that’s being addressed, dammit! #writehavoc