A Room of One’s Own

November 10, 2009 at 10:22 pm Leave a comment

It took me a looooong time to go 100% freelance. As far back as 1997, I was doing freelance work off the side of my desk.

When I left Vancouver Opera to go work for the Cultch, I did it because the gig at the Cultch was part-time, and I used the extra time to build up my client list. Of course, I loved it there, and I would like to think that they loved me, and they became one of my big, sustaining clients for a number of years.

For my first year as a freelancer, I worked in the basement. The cold, dark, creepy basement. In a year that set records for rain and lack of light. In a neighbourhood that only recently got a coffee shop. By spring, Mr. Dame was convinced I’d gone mental. The dank, plus the fact that I could hear the business line ringing at all times, really did send me ’round the twist.

So I moved. I moved to my office, which I love. In a sweet little heritage flatiron building on the corner of Kingsway and Broadway, above an excellent coffee shop (plus 13 others within a 5 block radius–isn’t that nuts?), with a community acupuncture clinic on the ground floor, reasonable rent, many splendid lunch and cocktail options nearby, and an absolutely awesome landlord.

What is the point of this, you may ask? A couple of spaces in the building came up, and I told a friend (who is in business with her partner in life, as well as business) to have a look at them. These two are bleeding money every month on a downtown space; money they don’t have. But little Mr. decided the space was too ghetto. And I am offended. (Not seriously, but it gave me pause. Do I go to work each day in some kind of rat-hole?)

So, when you are suffering from self-doubt, where can you turn? That’s right. The internet. So, everyone. Tell me. Does my space look ghetto? Be honest. I can take it.

There’s a window through to the next room on the other side of those fabric panels. Wacky! Also, the walls are magnetic. Which is handy!

Okay, there’s a neon luggage store sign on the other side of that bookshelf. Ghetto, yes, but invisible to me.

Windows on three sides. It’s plant paradise! Also, loud.

When last I looked, fax machines were not a huge part of ghetto life. Or any life for that matter. Damn hand-writing actors. If not for them, I’d recycle it.

It might be ghetto, but it’s MINE damn it. And I worked really hard to get here. And I’m not leaving.

Advertisements

Entry filed under: Angst, NaBloPoMo.

I Celebrate My Lameness Handmade Holiday

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Trackback this post  |  Subscribe to the comments via RSS Feed


Subscribe to my words of wit

Email me

The Dame loves mail. Nigerian banking? Penis enlargement? I'm always up for that. Send it all to dameemma2 AT yahoo DOT com

Follow me on Twitter

I’m a Joiner


%d bloggers like this: