Battle Ready? Battle Worn?

Each day feels like a game show where the prizes are confusion and a side of panic. Freelancing as a solo act in an expensive city is like being the only one who forgot to bring snacks to a potluck – you’re left to figure out how to feed yourself while everyone else is feasting.

In the first few months, it’s all about reminding yourself that the universe has a plan, even if that plan appears to be throwing glitter bombs of chaos into your daily routine. You check your finances like you’re waiting for the results of a medical test: Will I make it to rent day, or will I have to resort to living under a park bench and befriending raccoons? Spoiler alert: somehow, rent always gets paid.

My car remains magically insured, despite the fact that it’s only been driven to the grocery store and back – which is the equivalent of taking a sports car for a joyride around the block. Meanwhile, my cats are always well-fed, even if my diet consists of whatever expired items I can find in the bottom of my pantry. I might not be enjoying gourmet meals, but at least I can report that peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are still on the menu. Who says you can't have fine dining in a budget-friendly way?

So, here’s to freelancing survival and making it work with humor and a dash of absurdity. One day, I’ll look back at these days and think: Did I really eat ramen noodles for three weeks straight? At least I can say I did it with style.

Last week, I had all the makings of a master plan for my suburb-hopping client acquisition campaign. I was supposed to launch it today—key word here: "supposed." Turns out I misplaced my routes somewhere between "Let’s make some money" and "Where did I put my coffee?" So, instead of charming potential clients with my photography prowess, I’ll be huddled over a map like an over-caffeinated GPS.

And just when I thought I could catch up on my retainer account shoot from last week, I realized I'd been avoiding work like a diet avoids cake. Oops! So, tomorrow it is for the campaign, unless my pizza cravings win out.

You see, today marks the last day of my favorite pizza slice shop off South Street. This is the kind of code red I wasn't prepared for. I am a man of habits, and let me tell you, nothing beats that moment when I take the EL into Center City, saunter down Market Street, and just as my belly starts growling louder than my camera shutter, I find myself at Little Italy.

There’s something magical about balancing that cheesy slice on my left hand while juggling my camera bag. People might think I’m a walking Instagram post, and honestly, they wouldn’t be far off! I stroll to my shoot, a slice in one hand and a soda in the other, with a happy belly and a brain buzzing with pizza-induced creativity. Why this specific slice from this random shop brings me joy is a mystery, but who needs to analyze happiness when it’s just a pizza slice away?

Things like this is how I know everything is going to be okay. I mean, have you seen some of the photographers out there? It’s like watching a soap opera unfold on social media. You’ve got the “silent types,” lurking in the shadows, clutching their cameras like they’re holding the last cookie at a family gathering. Meanwhile, the others are practically screaming into the void, painting their struggles in bold letters as if they’re trying to win a Pulitzer for social media angst.

“Oh, woe is me!” they cry, “I deserve more likes than that guy who has a pet iguana as a sidekick.” It’s a real showdown—like a high-stakes game of who can shout the loudest about fairness, all while forgetting that the most important shot is often the one taken when you’re not the center of attention.

And let’s not overlook those who’ve declared themselves the reigning champions of photography without actually offering a kind word to their peers. You know the ones. They hover around their own little soliloquy of superiority, convinced that their choice of lens automatically grants them a black belt in photography. To them, support means a passive like on a post, as if clicking “like” is the modern equivalent of handing out gold stars.

But hey, as I watch the drama unfold, I find comfort in the chaos—they’re all part of the same comedic sketch. It reminds me that, in the grand scheme, everything is going to be okay. A slight shift in focus, a click of the shutter, and there’s beauty somewhere amidst the noise. So, let them bicker and boast; we’ll keep creating, one picture at a time.

I have my days too, I can be either of those people. Perks of Bipolar Disorder…. Lately though, since stepping away from social media as an everyday thing. I see myself focusing less on them and what they’re doing and more on what I can do for myself, my crew and what this years plans can really become.

But for now, I’m happy to sit right here at this desk and eat my fun little meals and watch my fun little shows while I work.