Just Give Me the Wine

I’m sad.

I just calculated the money needed to attend a very awesome, very important-sounding writing conference that I’ve been planning to attend for a few months. I had a rough figure in my head (I must’ve been extremely delusional), but hadn’t gotten the details because I knew it’d be expensive. And I didn’t want to be discouraged. But there was hope: I spent November and December KILLING myself with forced overtime that was super terrible and depressing and I kept myself going by thinking “this will go to the conference. Do it for the conference!” and then, being the RESPONSIBLE adult that I am, I shoved more than half my tax return into the ol’ savings account (other half went to Capital One for fronting money on my root canal. A pinch to myself for clothes and odd items from Ross since that’s where I like spending money when I actually have some.) All the extra savings was supposed to go to this conference, a conference I still really want to attend.

But, shit.

I just checked the numbers. I can’t afford it even if I go by myself, which I don’t want to since I’ll get lost (in NY and the hotel. I have an incredible power to confuse myself and misunderstand directions. It’s a wonder I survived my six week study-abroad program in Amsterdam. And that I actually made it back. Like, with all limbs and consciousness of the entire trip. I think.)

Now I feel like downing a bottle of wine, which is super possible since I have about ten at home. I’m not a lush, just a Wino. And my friends and family gift accordingly. But come on… can I just throw a goat at the situation and call it a day? Why is bartering still not a thing? A commonly accepted thing. Who wouldn’t want my random pieces of crap from Ross? They’re fun – they’ve entertained me. And important conference people, I know you’d benefit from them too!

Trade ya a giant gold key for an economy class ticket to NYC. Oh you like my multi-patterned- fabric giraffe? It’s yours for a two-night stay at the Roosevelt. And I just KNOW this Abby Road Sign would look *fantastic* in your music room, so throw me a registration pass and we’ll be set.

See? I can barter.

Or I can take all that money and buy the dog I’ve always wanted. Appa, I’m coming for you. But a boxer/corgi/shepherd isn’t going to help me network. And meet important folks who know about writing, who like to talk about writing and help me with my writing and, most importantly, marketing.

Which is what I desperately need.

Ah, it’s time to drink. A lot. And think. The two usually don’t go well together, although Hemingway might disagree. But there was normally a typewriter involved. And I have a Microsoft computer from 2008. It’s missing the “S” button due to a severe case of writer’s block and immaturity. But it’ll do.

Come on, let’s bring bartering back. Take my crap and give me an opportunity. It’ll be like donating to charity and getting something awesome in return. Like, in addition to good vibes and tax write-offs. You know you want to.

I'm totally worth a two night stay at the Roosevelt.

I’m totally worth a two night stay at the Roosevelt.

Ah, what the hell. Just give me the wine.