I’ll Adapt

Pete and I got home last night about the back of midnight, and as we curled up in bed I brought up the money he owes me. I should be getting paid on Wednesday, but I’m so broke and I can’t continue to carry him. So, I asked if he could pop to a cash machine in the morning and give me the money.

This is when he dropped the bomb on me.

‘Oh. Yeah. About that. I’m really down to my last, but I’m going to start looking for a job this week.’

Holy fuck! I didn’t think I heard him right. He didn’t have the money to pay me back, and he planned on being here long enough to get a job? This was all news to me.

Yes, I do understand that time is different in gap year world. That stopping off in a new city can sometimes last for a couple of months. But we never talked about how long he’d be here. I thought, it was a transient sort of thing. Not that I mind I guess, as I guess this answers the whole relationship question. If he plans on being here long enough to get a job, then I guess this relationship is long term as well. So, I’m kind of glad, I just wish I knew.

And, even more so, I wish he’d told me he’s broke. I can’t afford to support him. I mean, who does he think I am? PoshPhD living off Daddy’s money? My job does not pay a lot, and I’m trying to make a go of it with rent and utilities and council tax. If he was broke, why did he agree for us to go out for dinner, and tripping all over Scotland at my expense? Okay he plans on getting a job, but how long will it take for him to get paid? I’m broke now. Rent is due now. My credit card will be due soon. I am so annoyed.

So last night I asked Pete when he planned on telling me he was broke? He said he didn’t think it was a big deal, because he was going to get a job, and he’d just pay me back then. Plus he said he’d contribute to rent once he got a job, so I’d be better off. I asked him how he was going to get a job not being British and all, and he said that he can work here because he’s Commonwealth. I’m not really sure if this is true, but whatever.

I went to bed fuming, and I was still right angry when I got up this morning.

But…here’s the lovely part…work soothed the savage beast within me.

We were on the conference call (Which, by the way, went well, but I still feel quite a bit out of place. Everyone is doing all these dynamic things and I’m still running to catch-up. But oh well, I guess it will just take time) when I saw Lady Bohemia come out into the garden and set up her easel.

The weather this morning was a bit grey and wet, but very warm. It was another day to leave the coat at home. She spent the hour we were on the phone painting. Her painting is so lovely, it’s full of green with bursts of colour, the crocuses blooming and the snowdrops, and even the unopened daffodils in the background. Once we were done on the call, she waved for us to come outside. Loraine made us all a cuppa, and we joined Lady Bohemia in the garden.

I brought up the topic of discussion from NFTI (without, of course, telling her about NFTI) about self publishing, and LadyBohemiamade an interesting take on the situation.

She said that to be an artist who sells a gallery had to show your work. It was the only way to legitimately get your work out there. Plus, they had the business acumen and the manpower to get buyers attention – something artists rarely had. And, usually, the galleries took such a large commission, the artist felt that nothing was left. But since the advent of the internet, artists can now sell their own work online. There seems to be no need for the gallery. However, the artist is still an artist, a person hopefully more involved in their work than in their business. And just because they have a website that sells their paintings, sculptures or whatever, it doesn’t mean people are going to see that artwork. And it certainly doesn’t carry the kudos of having your work in a gallery. So even though some people sell their work online, galleries still represent artists too.

She concluded with, ‘I wouldn’t worry about all this self-publishing business. Things are changing everywhere, not just with literature. I’m sure you’ll adapt. You have to.’

Wise, wise woman.

It was a nice chat, and it’s made my day. I’m feeling a little better about Pete, and as I’m sitting in my favourite café, I feel like I can deal with things. I don’t know how I’m going to deal with Pete, but I’ll sort it out. Like Lady Bohemia said, I’ll adapt, because I have to.


2 responses to “I’ll Adapt

  1. Must i remind you my darling of last summer when someone paid for your plane ticket from LA to NO? And let you sleap on the sofa for a couple of months while you attempted to work illegally? Feeding you and boozing you up the entire time? Dont be so harsh on your boy. You went through the same thing, now its your turn to pay it forward.

    • Rich, I seriously hate you. Why do you always have to point out when I’m being hypocritical. You seriously suck. (PS-Let’s plan a time to Skype. Want to hear all about this potential new job of yours.)

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