daddymagazine_tamara

I FUCKING LOVE MY PERFECT LIFE

 

Hello, my name is Tamara Yajia and I’m a 32 year old comedy writer from Los Angeles California, land of show-business, opportunity and sunny skies {insert extremely tan duck emoji}. I fucking love my perfect life.

 

Right now, you can find me writing this article on my ipad as I cruise down the 101 freeway in my vintage, 2017 Hybrid vehicle while eating two downward dogs. As I type, I’m literally driving to Paramount Studios in Hollywood where my writing partner Ashberto is waiting for me with a really tall stack of Venti Starbucks soy free Mochatachosatos so we can finish writing the TV show we’re currently working on. I CANNOT FOR THE LIFE OF ME TELL YOU A SINGLE THING ABOUT THIS TV SHOW BECAUSE I’M UNDER A STRICT CONTRACT, OK? Ugh, fine, I’ll tell you. Basically, it’s a F.R.I.E.N.D.S reunion! Yes! F.R.I.E.N.D.S. The original F.R.E.D.S: Phoebles, Ross, Josey, Minoca, Jennifer Aniston and Ross.

 

What’s so cool about what my writing partner and I are cooking up for this reunion is that it’s taking place in the year 1976, during the Argentinian Military Coup. I know! Right? Super political and edgy. In a nutsack shell, Ross has turned into a fascist military general who’s trying to get the rest of the F.R.O.I.E.N.D.S murdered and thrown in a river inside of trash bags for reading Harry Potter And The Prisoner Of Azkaban in an underground coffee shop. I’m so smart. I’m so comedy. I fucking love my perfect life.

 

Ok I got really carried away with that one. I meant to start this piece by writing a kind of cliché day-in- the-life of a comedy writer in L.A, but then I realized that I had no idea what a real life “comedy writer’s” day was like so I was like “fuck it I’m going to take a dump on the page at this point.”

 

 

The truth in all of this is as follows: My name is Tamara Yajia, I am a 32 year old woman who immigrated to California illegally with my family from Argentina when I was 12 years old (I am now legal so don’t waste your time reporting me to immigration). For money, I work as a Spanish translator at a hospital. I work with injured workers who are paid a lot less than minimum wage for jobs that destroy their bodies in just weeks. From 7 am to 6 pm I work with men and women who have had their limbs chopped off by machines and their backs broken by lifting 100 lbs boxes all day long. This is what I do for a “living.”

 

But I am also a writer and a comedian, even though I have an extremely hard time ever referring to myself as either of those descriptors because I make close to zero dollars a year with those professions. We live in a society where we’re laughed at when we say we do a job that doesn’t make us money. Unfortunately, success is measured by money, and it is the creative jobs that are the hardest to ever “make” it in. Creative jobs (musician, artist, writer, comedian, actor) are jobs that take a lot of time and hard work to be successful at, and the craziest thing about it is that you are never going to be guaranteed that you will succeed with this type of job. Yet every day that goes by is a day that I have to remind myself that referring to myself as a writer or a comedian when I introduce myself to someone is ok.

 

So the truth is: as I write this, I’m sitting at my parent’s house. My father has just fallen asleep in the bathtub and my mother’s dog has farted with a stench that could annihilate a civilization. I am going to go to sleep now so I can wake up at 6 am to go work at the hospital, and when I get off work I am going to sit at my desk and write. I will repeat that as many days as I have to until, one day, I will be able to make a living doing what I love.

 

 

Written by: Tamara Yajia 

Image by: Coco

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