Living on sponge cake...

OK. It’s about two weeks into my current reality show: the life of Hans as he re-invents himself for the (how many times is it now?) in his life.

That’s one of the realities about being a chronic “learner:” I’m just never satisfied with the pre-packaged versions of how life should be lived. As one friend put it recently, listening to how I did grad school as a “Special Arrangements” MA in Applied Sciences (with a focus on History, Literature, and Sociology/Communications between two major universities), “You’ve lived your life by ‘special arrangements.’” Indeed.

I have to remember this as the cat whines about the little pile of food in the dish, and the collaborators I’ve previously hired go away empty-handed: the ups and downs of the creative, “learning” life are about proverbial “salad days,” and days when there is only salad -- or sponge cake as Mr. Buffet (not Warren) once lamented -- on the plate.

Today was a good example. I’ve decided that I have to go for coffee, buy a burger, or otherwise spend some face-time with almost anyone from the past few “salad” years to generate some creative juice. Because I’m a chronic learner, I’m in it not just for the conversation and the possibility of collaboration that’ll lead to lucre, I’m also listening with my “third ear” for the lessons to be learned.

So I met with my very beautifully-preggers friend who has always inspired me with her glowing attitude and sharp mind. Yes, she owed me a couple of bucks from a little job I did for her a while back. But mostly I was hungry to learn. This woman has a keen nose for opportunity. And she’s quick with ideas. By the end of our luncheon I had a game plan for a project I’ve been sitting on for a while (too busy during the salad years to do much more than sit on it), she’d offered to make a key intro, money had crossed our palms and our debt/credit balance was almost square (I owe her some fotos for some work she’d done for me -- it’s a scratch your back world in my life), and to top it all off, she paid for lunch. Seems she thinks I bought her lunch last time (that’s what I do during the salad days: treat people as well as I possibly can, not because I expect it returned some day, but because I think we all deserve to be féted at any and all opportunities).

Anyway, it’s back to living on spongecake. No money for booze (or a blender). But I’ve got a plan. And I learned a thing or two. And the cats are still whining... time to shake a little kibbles their way.

Hasta entonces..... h.

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