More Money, Less Problems
It might sound nuts, but I’m generally a fan of paying bills. Dropping the rent check into apartment manager’s box every month fills me with great joy. While I’d obviously rather spend the money on something else, paying my bills is an act of independence, maturity and adulthood for me, the inverse of eating cookies for breakfast.
I take bill paying to be a small sign of success. Any time that I feel low I can look around my apartment with the firm knowledge that everything here is mine. I’m making it on my own and in a field that many people aspire to, but very few succeed at. Not every piece I write is “living the dream” by any means; But I’m doing what I love to do and getting paid (quite handsomely, I might add) for it. I’ve established a reputation as a guy who can produce quality writing on time and with a minimum of complaint. Best of all, I’ve done it through sheer hard work and gumption, not because I went to a great school or because my dad works in publishing.
One bar I use to measure my life is what 15-year-old me would have thought about what I’m doing now. Living in an apartment with a dog in Los Angeles, having a smoking hot British lady friend and writing for my rent aren’t bad measures by any means. Double down on all that when I get an assignment that really moves me, something that I’m extra proud of. Paying bills is just a little reminder that I’ve made it in my own small way, a little nod to the hard work I’ve done. It’s the little things that really count.
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