I’m a writer. And not in the in-my-spare-time, when-I-need-to-use-profanity-privately kind of way. I am a writer in a totally legitimate, business meeting on the fifth floor, “what are your rates?” kind of way.
A few weeks ago I landed my very first freelance writing gig. I am still trying to wrap my head around the fact that someone has offered to pay for my writing. This idea lodged in the recesses of my brain growing up, an abandoned dream when I got to college, a goal I set a year and a half ago that completely altered the course of my life– it’s actually here, in my hands, right now. And in a couple of weeks it will be replaced with a paycheck!
It’s been more than a little hectic trying to juggle my day job, my classes, and the writing project, but I can’t even think of complaining. A few nights in the past two weeks, I actually got home later than Clayton, which is unheard of since he started his residency job. I dont’ think he knew how to handle the role reversal; his confusion was cute.
To counteract the craziness, I had to start running again. And, though I had a very intense love affair with my Asics, a new obsession has entered my life. I like to call them the cure for my self-diagnosed Seasonal Affective Disorder, or “the mopies,” as well as the answer to all the aches and pains that come with running on super high arches. Feast your eyes on these puppies:
Mine have red accents instead of blue. And they make me and my outrageously high arches very, very happy. I actually went to a running store and consulted a “professional” before deciding on these shoes. Who knew that your feet swell when you run and you may need to go up a size? After coming to terms with the fact that I needed a 9 1/2 and waiting for Clayton’s mocking laughter to subside, I pulled the trigger and paid more than I ever have for a pair of shoes. After three weeks of off-road and pavement running, my conclusion: MONEY WELL SPENT.