Debbie Does Drivel

I'll get bitter again in a minute. But right now, I'm a little headachey.

As an update: I spent yesterday making notes about my new life plan. The notes filled 6 pages.
Also, went to library to research my new life plan(s).

I broke the plan into 1s, 2s, and 3s, as well as As, Bs, and Cs.
1a was a home-based web design business. Mainly simple sites for small, crackerjack businesses. I'll also throw some wedding websites in the mix.

2a was a home-based writing/editing business. I've done it for the Man for 11 years, perhaps I can do it on my own.

3a was to finish the first draft of my young adult supernatural thriller. And do some freelance writing. And sell it. And make it big in the city.

3b was to look for another job, where surely my soul will continue to seep, unless it's one of those fun ad agencyey places where they paint the walls different colors and everyone is young and hip but I already worked in a place like that and everyone was sexing up everyone else, even the married people, and it felt like I'd not only Hoovered out my soul but then also sold it to the devil.

After this fun life-mapping exercise, I turned the notebook page and titled the blank sheet,"What I'd Do if Money Weren't An Issue: Passion not Paycheck." One word came after: writing.

After my mind had caught up with my body here on Earth, I decided that I'd have to focus soon and really suss out how I'm going to make ends meet now.

Then, I did the next logical thing: imbibed four margaritas in quick succession. Of course, I did so downtown where a laid-off person might spend, say $100, on drinks and stuffed calamari. I'dve been able to write this off as networking, since I surely came in contact with many potential employers, but I guess they don't speak Slur in JobLand.