Annual Life Crisis

Next year, I will start calling this my Annual Midlife Crisis.

So I had a birthday. I'm 39. I'm in reasonably good health for a fat woman with MS.

I am in a financial panic, again, because my job just isn't coming close to paying the bills and it's going to be MONTHS before all that shit works itself out. Unless... I get my shit together, figure out how to get a small business loan (or Kickstarter my dream job and hope it works out), and just try to hustle more work in ways that I can't as just a person.

I've got a great deal of spare time (because I'm not working enough) and today was the first day where I actually sat and wrote. I worked on my business plan, I wrote a blog post for my real life website, I wrote a little bit about why I don't write (yeah, really), and I wrote about my day.

I think I can make more time to write.

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The big mystery I am trying to solve in my 40th year:

WHY is it that everything I love to do, no one will pay me to do?

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I'm not very good at making friends here. Or rather, the people I have been meeting aren't really the kind of people I want to be friends with.

If I have coffee with one more group of women who are carrying Coach bags, wearing D&G rhinestone watches, and Lucky Brand jeans, I will stab myself in the eye with a Starbucks stir stick.

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I'd also like to meet one childfree woman who isn't out to "land a man before its too late".

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I'd also like to meet women who know what a smartphone is. And know basic internet terms. Maybe uses the internet a little bit more than just Facebook.

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I'm trying to start writing again to meet a goal I started about a year ago. I'm *really* behind on that goal, but I think I can make it up if I really put my "taking action" principles to it.

This blog may just become a report of what happened today, or what I'm thinking about but I am going to try to write 750 words a day that aren't for my website and aren't for my business plan. All of those 750 words might not end up on the blog, but a lot of them could.

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I'll try to keep from boring you.

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I had another year of waking up crying on the morning of my birthday. Full of fear and dread for the future, and sobbing because I'm now fairly certain that unless there is a polar shift in my life, I will amount to nothing.

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SO. I. WRITE.