A starving artist in NYC: Visualizing abundance won’t stop your stomach from growling.

During the midst of my misguided poor-artist spell I went to Whole Foods to do what many vagabond people rave about: grazing for a meal.

I had resisted trying the scheme for a long time because it was a cliche concept. And, well, I knew that I would probably end up feeling a chump.

But, finally my curiosity and low budget led me to test the idea. In order to keep self respect I pretended I was a social scientist and this was my experiment. I was testing a hypothesis. My research question: Is it possible to actual feed myself by picking at samples in the world’s largest organic food chain?

Results:
I was able to rustle up a few spoonfuls of goat’s milk ice cream, dallops of two kinds of almond butter, a one inch piece of teriaki chicken, a morsel of spiced beef and an ounce of a ginger beer. For a treat I splurged and bought a $1.55 store-made granola bar.

Observations:
 After the feast I was full in the way that one has just had an appetizer and is expecting the main course. However, there was not much other choice for the night. The fact remained that I had five dollars in my pocket and seven hours before sleep, when I wouldn’t be conscious enough to feel hunger.

But, the positive/affirmation-writing/self-help-book-reading voice comes surging forth like Glinda the Good Witch: You choose this lifestyle, my dearest. Be grateful for what you have and wealth will become you.

In other words, I choose a lifestyle that required me to remain free for last minute auditions. Which forced me to push aside all plans to run to a measly casting for a hundred-to-one chance to book a job I’m embarrassed to tell my friends about. A situation that kept me marginally employed. I guess I should be grateful. Humph.

Glinda: Visualize abundance, feel happy to be given the opportunity to at least try.

But, fuck that witch, I had to go to a friend’s house later and he was expecting that I bring something in the way of liquor. Oh, crap, and then there was Aunt Theresa’s BBQ the next day! I tried to pull a Jesus and multiply the five dollars in my pocket, but money doesn’t behave like loaves.

I twisted my hands thinking about how lame it was going to be to have to go home after dinner, saying, “No, its OK, haha, I’m just so bloody tired from all those auditions. Go on out without me!” My ego would deflate like Macy’s balloons on a lamppost the moment those words were out of my mouth. It was going to be horrible. Maybe I should just stay home?

Glinda: Just follow your heart, there will be a way.

Grumph.

Oh wait! I could pull an “old school” night and cart over a forty-ounce! Cheap, effective and smart! Chris will shed a tear as we reminisce about old times while sipping malt liquor. He’ll thank me for my thoughtfulness and give me a big hug before I skip home with a slight buzz.

And tomorrow I’ll make a salad with all the crap I have left over in the fridge. I’ll say I learned it from Giada De Laurentiis. It will be a hit at the BBQ and everyone will praise me for my ingenuity.

Phew. I can do this.

Money. Prosperity. Wealth.

Positive. Positive. Positive.

Glinda: You don’t need to be helped any longer. You’ve always had the power to go back to Kansas.

Blogger Bio: Lauren LoGiudice is an actor, model, performance artist, writer, host, producer, improv comedian and amateur chef. A native New Yorker—born in Queens, now living out in Brooklyn—who likes to shake the dust of the outer boroughs off to travel the world, living and working in places that range from India to Mexico to Italy. Part of the slim minority who does not like bacon, potato chips or milk chocolate. Often seen in farmer’s markets trolling for and the latest weird vegetable. Eats her greens. (laurenlogiudice.com).