In which Carrie writes a letter.

But which letter to choose? L? P? Would a number be better?

Dear Internet,

Well, I admit that I have not exactly been a Portrait of the Artist as a Young Struggling Writer, what with having a job and regular meals and all that. But as of 3:41 this afternoon, I am officially unemployed.

Again.

On the bright side, I really think people will actually start to recognize me as a writer now. Somehow, the unmistakable stench of unwashed hair mixed with sad desperation and whiskey will be like a foghorn bellowing my plight to the world.

"HEY, YOU GUYS," the passers-by will say, "THAT SMELLY WOMAN IS A WRITER, I THINK."

"THE ONE WITH THE UNKEMPT HAIR WHO'S ONLY WEARING ONE SHOE?" other people will ask.

Then I will shush them irritably because some of us are trying to write, thank you, as I return to the growing pile of scribbled-on paper napkins stacked on the table next to me.

But really, I think this new unemployment situation will be a good thing. Plus, I won't have any more priests yelling at me or auto repair guys calling me "sweetie." At least, not over the phone, for $9 an hour.

My only regret is that I couldn't yank my phone out of the wall and hurl it across the room before storming out of that menial telemarketing job, shouting about the undignified conditions stifling my artistic sensibilities. Instead, I just got a call from my temp agency informing me that unfortunately, this has been my last day. I even said thank you before I hung up. Like some sort of sap.

Fond regards,
Carrie



Image via Stephanie Abbot.