When will I get a new job so I can stop selling assets like I am fucking Michael Jackson or even Ari Gold, who made that statement on Entourage and I thought it was funny until it applied to me.
A month later and I am still out of a job. With all the temp jobs and everything else in Atlanta, I have still been unable to get any fish nibbles. Last week a little bit but this week, not even a peep, no one wants to know who I am. And so I have sold quite a bit to raise money. I sold my dining set, my spa gift card, and now I am thinking of selling some of my black and white prints. All that to raise money. I have disconnected my cable and internet, currently using free month dial-up, yes it's that bad. I walk into my house and my TV is off, and I have watched all the DVD's at least twice.
So I ask once again, who is gonna take a shot and hire me, so I can stop selling my freaking assets.
I promise myself I wouldn't cry but I gave into it twice, three times if you count the tear that welled up in my eyes, while I sat at the bookstore today. It is sad, when your enemies triumph over you, when your deepest fears turn out not to be your paranoia, but true, it is sad, daunting like you should have trusted your sixth sense in the first place. It is devastating and infuriating.
I feel like this is the worst year of my freaking life. Something about your thirties that never gets easier, it just gets worse. Every freaking year it's been bad. You would think I would have a career by now, but instead I am unemployed and depressed and contemplating the razor, except I hate sharp objects and I did watch Constantine so I know the consequences of that.
I have nothing else to say.
