© 2012 Timmy Tamisiea. All rights reserved. Did I mention the Oyster is really Ed-209?

179/365 – Taxes!

It’s my first full day back in sweet ol’ Chicago.  I could do anything I want!  I could go to the Art Institute for the first time.  I could finish Assassin’s Creed: Brotherhood on the old XBox!  I could go for a run!  Man, the world is my oyster — a sweet, sweet oyster . . . And the oyster is clamped shut and guarding my front door with guilt trips.

Did I mention the Oyster is really Ed-209?

Yep, I’m doing my taxes and have been since 8:30 this morning.  What time is it now?  6pm.  Because I have so many 1099s and file as a self employed artist, I have to organize all my receipts related to my job expenses.  So there’s a plastic tub in front of me and I’m slowly piling through all this bull cocky just to get READY to file.  The actual online tax forms is a snap.  That takes like 45 minutes to an hour.  This organization is what kills me.  I wish I could just be more organized all year.  But, to give myself a break, just keeping the receipts is a feat in and of itself.

 

I just need to stop asking for the receipts for the elderly. I don’t need big print!

See, while most professionals write off their gold games with the boss, corporate jets and their subscription to Business Men Bootie Call (cause it relates to their job), as an artists, and specifically as a filmmaker and writer, I can write off things like, say, cable television.  Because it is in direct correlation with my job.  I need it for research and to keep up on the entertainment trends.  When I was trying to be a professionally actor, I would write off my hair cuts, because I needed my apperance to match my headshots so casting wouldn’t get weirded out if I showed up looking different.

It took a very special hairstylist to get me to look like my headshot every month. Then Tilda Swinton stole my look.

The big difference this year is that Megan and I are filing jointly.  Cool, right?  I think so.  It’s like we’re not married until the government officially takes money form us as a unit.  That’s love!  True, true love.

But a full day of organization just sucks.  Megan just got home and all she wants to do is take me out for dinner; a celebration of my return.  And I’m game . . . except my mind is with the tax man.  And the tax man has a vice grip on my concentration.  Money sucks right now, so I’m trying to figure out how to get a refund and that takes finesse.

So, I’m going to cut this blog entry short.  My lady wants to eat.  So I’m gonna give her some vittles.  PEACE!

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