Ten years ago, I dreamed of working as a voiceover artist (performer? actor? person?). It started when I went with a friend, who was really good at doing voices, to a little class on doing voiceovers, a little $25 class. The big pitch of course was to work with him, practice and get an audition tape together. That was more like $2500. My friend didn’t do it, but I did. So when I decided to move to New York not long after, I thought it would be a great way to earn extra money, maybe even make a living.

I talked about it ad nauseum to friends, but being the SHA that I am, I never sent my tape out, never looked for an agent. I didn’t think it would be good enough, didn’t believe anyone would want to hire me, so why send it out. I did nothing but regret the money I spent for something I never used.

Fast forward 10 years. I do voiceover work at my current job. I’m The Voice of our main product, anyone who comes to the site hears my voice. It’s kind of ironic. No I take that back. It’s extremely ironic. And it makes me think, what else can I do, that I want to do, that I haven’t done.

Here’s the thing. I want everything to be easy. Effort is exhausting. I just don’t have any energy left after working, taking care of myself in the most basic manner and dwelling on my fears and inadequacies. So things, the things I really want to do, things I want to accomplish, need to be really easy.

There’s no energy left for effort, or trial and error or dissappointment; there’s no joy in the making only the end, and only if the end is what I wanted it to be when I started. I have no husband, no children, no responsibilities than to be my own person, and at the end of the day I do not have the energy to do that.

So if I could just fall into something easy yet highly satisfying, and I wouldn’t mind profitable, that would be great.

I’ll live. Yay!

There’s nothing wrong with my colon. Nothing. After the immediate relief, the relief of being able to eat, phoning friends and family to tell them that I was fine, and sleeping some of the drugs off, the question “Now what?” came back to me.

Now what? My Dieing Plan is now obsolete. What’s my Living Plan?  I’ve been thinking I could just live out my DP. Only one problem: My DP doesn’t really include a means of support. I go home and live with my mother for a few months, maybe working for spending money but basically mooching off of her. That is not acceptable as a long term plan. I have to take care of myself.

But that’s the hard part living, isn’t it? Taking care of yourself. I’m taking care of myself now – better than I admit -, but this is not the life that makes me smile, this is not the way I want to live if I only had a few months left.

I can’t write at work. Employers are happy to hear this I’m sure. But for me this causes a problem. Work is where I have the most free-time. Honestly. I spend whole days at work doing, for the most part, nothing.  That’s 8 hours of time, doing – nothing.  I visit friends, I make coffee, I make tea, I make my lunch even when I’m going out for ‘lunch’, I randomly walk through the halls, and chat with co-workers. I pace the office like a caged animal waiting for the slightest relief from the boredom.

What would self help books say about this? A SHB could

1) tell me to be thankful for what I have and be content;

2) tell me to ask for my boss for more challenging work (and more money);

3) tell me to get a new job.

I’m going with a combo of 1 & 3. I’m trying (most of the time) to be grateful for my job and the money that allows me to have an apartment AND look for another way to make a living/earn money. Notice I didn’t say ‘get a new job’.  I don’t want a new job. I want something else, something more. I want a life of adventure I want a life I can be proud of on my deathbed (deathhammock?)