I spent the past week beading, baking and blogging – not neccessarily in that order. These three bitches kept me up late into the night – threading, squinting, icing, labelling, worrying, applying for accreditation, doling out money for supplies and stalls.
The trifector makes up ros from scratch – and it is supposed to be my ticket to financial freedom, mental stimulation, enhanced social standing and my new career. But the whole lot tumbled like a Great Dane’s dog poo on the lagoon’s edge … then it washed down the stream.
Paid good money to have 2 stalls this weekend; made a f-load of cupcakes. Christmas tree bling and vintage jewels. Sweated my arse off setting everything up at the first stall. And I think that once I had deducted the cost of the stall and supper for me and C, I made 29 bucks. No – really. Sold no jewellery and ended up packing cupcakes in and out of boxes.
Then, for today’s outdoor stall, I actually had to go and get accredited by two retired aunties (this between icing all the freaking cupcakes). And there is a list of rules as long as my arm. Felt like I was in the principal’s office. Had to hand over more bucks and sign the rest of 2012 away. And then, today, it rained. And the wind blew. And it was cold. So no market. Although after last night’s epic fail …I seriously have doubts about showing my face in this town again. The fact that I actually made it out of bed, is in itself a feat of astounding proportions.
I am seriously going to step up my job search in the formal sector. Am thinking that I would rather have a fixed income and be paid my worth, than have to haggle and convince people to pay R7.50 for a cupcake that cost me R8 in ingredients and time to make. It is also the last time I shall be baking my fares in the hope that someone may take pity on me and buy. Orders only. Screw that.
It is hard for me to put on my smiley face and be fabulously funny today. I so wish to make a living doing something that I love and thought that I was reasonably good at. Or so people have told me. And if these people have being lying to me – be afraid… I know where you stay … and it gets dark every evening.
I am questioning all my hopes, efforts and hard work over the past few months. If I can’t do this right, where will I eventually find my little place of happiness? I need some justification for being on this earth – and yes, I am materialistic – show me some money. I am tired of hobbling along.
I take this all too personally – I need to feel needed and valued to be happy. And now I don’t.
(You will notice that due to lack of enthusiasm, there are no exclamation marks in this post.)