[Worth Revisiting] Trusting Hope Over Experience: The Shedding of the Old
“Everything I had built in the past 15 years just went up in smoke. It’s gone. I mean, what the fuck do I do now?”
My friend had gone through one of those tribulations that involved losing status within the community of artists he was a part of, losing his job on top of that, and flailing his now beaten down limbs in search of what he was supposed to do, who he was supposed to be, after the dust had settled.
I understood the feeling.
Trusting Hope Over Experience: The Shedding of the Old
“Everything I had built in the past 15 years just went up in smoke. It’s gone. I mean, what the fuck do I do now?”
My friend had gone through one of those tribulations that involved losing status within the community of artists he was a part of, losing his job on top of that, and flailing his now beaten down limbs in search of what he was supposed to do, who he was supposed to be, after the dust had settled.
I understood the feeling.
Being an escort for me was like being a scrapbooker on Etsy for most other single moms trying to pick up some extra money. The only difference was that I could make a few thousand bucks for one hour of potential discomfort versus making a few hundred for several hours of suffering through handmade clip art. I’m a pretty open-minded person, but I cannot for one second believe that there is any joy in being hunched over a desk, cutting and pasting other people’s memories together. It seems so lonely and juvenile.