Case of the SADS

I think now that the weather has actually started to feel like "real" winter weather, as opposed to the unseasonably warm temperatures we had earlier in the month, I have developed a case of Seasonal Affective Disorder.  I wake up in the morning and the sun is shining, but then it always seems to fade into grey skies by the afternoon.  It's too cold for me to go out for a walk (I really regret giving my down coat to the stray cats I had in my yard a year ago), and so I am cooped up in my apartment struggling to stay away from the cookies I foolishly decided to make (out of lack of anything better to do than bake).  Not only am I fighting the urge to binge eat carbs all day, but my night job as a server has completely thrown off my sleeping schedule.  I get home around midnight, and I'm so wired from the loud music and running around that I don't feel tired until around 2 or 3am.  Naturally, I'm dog-tired when my alarm goes off at 8:30am (which would be the ideal time to wake up, had I gone to bed at a more reasonable hour), so I hit 'snooze' about 10 times.  The next thing I know, it's 9:45am, and I'm forcing myself out of bed because I hate wasting the day, even though I could still sleep another hour.  Sigh.  Once I have another job, I'm really going to have to retrain myself to wake up like a normal person, at a normal hour.  On top of that, my coffee maker shit the bed.  My skin has really seemed to be healthier since my coffee intake went down to zero cups per day, however, mentally, I'm really struggling.  Coffee is my favorite, non-alcoholic beverage.  I know that caffeine is terrible for a person's skin, and the amount of cream and sugar I dump into my coffee is also pretty bad for my health (sugar is terrible for my skin), however, I crave that coffee in the morning.  Usually, coffee is my one incentive to get out of bed, so now that I don't have that... well, getting out of bed seems pointless (other than my list of 1,000 things to do each day).  My dad bought me a new coffee maker, but it is currently upstate, and I have no idea when I will be upstate again.

I never really liked Spring as a season, but I have been craving a taste of Spring this past week.  My favorite season is definitely fall.  However, I have been craving warmer weather in the midst of this brutal cold.  If it snowed, I wouldn't mind the cold as much... it's the combination of ugly, grey, shitty city buildings and brown hues on top of the bitter cold that make this month so depressing.  I am very sad I wasn't upstate long enough over Christmas for the massive snowfall we had.  I think a blanket of white over tree tops and sidewalks really makes the world a little bit more beautiful in the bleakness of January.  Today I have been dreaming of warmer days though, and sunshine, and lilac trees.

I have had a multitude of interviews this week, one of which was in Greenwich, CT.  It's the first time I have ever been to Greenwich, and I must say, it's a lovely little town.  I wouldn't mind working there at all, especially since the store has ideal hours and no late-nights would be involved, however, it's one hell of a commute.  From Williamsburg to Grand Central was a 25 min. subway commute, and then the train out of Grand to Greenwich was another 50 or so minutes.  I don't know if I am up for an hour and a half commute two times a day.  That tacks on an extra three hours to my work day... but we will see.  I called the hair-care company I interviewed with yesterday, since I hadn't heard back from them.  They said they still had a couple more interviews and I should be hearing back from them within the next week (it's about fucking time... my interview was January 7th!).  I wouldn't mind working for them though; I applied for a purchasing position so I would have a nice, Mon-Fri., 9-5 job... like a 'normal' person :D  lol.  Can you tell I'm desperate for some stability in my work life? Furthermore, the office space was super cozy and cute, and it's only a 12 minute subway ride away... perfect. I have another interview on Thursday at a vintage clothing store in Carroll Gardens, and I just got a call from an architectural interiors store as I typed this last paragraph.  Let's hope I get some actual offers.  ha.

In addition to my quest for a 'real' job, I am starting a short internship with one of my sister's friends who runs her own theatre company... I'm super stoked.  I think in addition to doing clerical/office type tasks, she wants me to help out planning the gala they are throwing in March, so you can imagine how excited I am to be a part of that.  I love parties and decorating!!!!!! :D :D :D (that's how I feel inside).  I don't care if I don't get paid at all... I get to do something that I love and meet people... that's enough for me. lol.  I am also currently doing Pinterest boards for Renegade Chicks, in addition to writing a weekly article, so be sure to check that out, if you love me ;).   Here are some links:

http://renegadechicks.com/  (my pen name is Lily White... obviously)

http://pinterest.com/renegadechicks/  

Despite my work-life looking up, my personal life has gone to shit recently.  I just thought I'd throw that out there for any of you reading this and wondering what happened to my usually caustic voice.  I don't want to seem like I am gloating or bragging, because I'm not- I'm just happy things are looking up as far as my prospective career goes.  Don't people always say there are three pillars of happiness?  Social/family life, relationship, and career, and it's hard to have all three where you want them?  Well, for the longest time, my career pillar was in the gutter, and now that that seems to finally have taken a turn for the better, my relationship has really nose-dived.  So any of you who need reassurance that I'm still my usual, caustic self, take reassurance in the fact that I am... just in a different way.  I am currently working on an article about 'Co-dependence,'- I always joked about being codependent with my friends and stuff.  You know when you're in college and you NEED your friend to go to the auto body repair shop with you, because you don't want to sit alone while your oil gets changed, or you HAVE to drag your friend to the grocery store with you, because you hate going there alone?  I always thought that that's what codependence was.  Or like, the girlfriend you have that thinks it's acceptable to drag her boyfriend to girl's night, because even though they see each other daily, she can't be without him for a few hours?... I always thought that was codependence.  However, upon doing some reading, turns out it's a hell of a lot more serious, and a real mental health condition.

I'll leave you with a picture of myself, because (you know the drill....) I CAN! WTF is wrong with me?  Maybe I suffer from co-dependency, I think I have the narcissistic aspect of it down pat... JK.  

Before the experiment.... 

After the experiment...

Inspired by one of the uber-blond opening acts (some Russian pop star named 'Kerli'), we had when the Saturdays played at Highline a week ago, I wanted to know what I would look like with platinum hairs.  Naturally I would never dye my reddish-locks for fear of ruining them forever, so to achieve this look, I used "White-out" temporary hair dye that I had from my Costume Makeup class, and then went over it with John Frieda temporary blonde root coverage shit.  I don't make a good blonde, but I envy people that can pull off that baby-blonde hair.  And yes, this is how I spent my saturday night.. I need a life. Or a job that can finance a 'life'... 

 

The Po' Bitch's Guide to Living

I cannot take credit for that awesome title ^.   My best friend invented the idea somewhere in 2009 when she confessed she was craving chocolate covered strawberries late, one night, and having no access to a grocery store, was so desperate for some, that she considered taking strawberry Pop-tarts and pouring Hershey's syrup over them.  LMAO... thusly, the idea for the 'Po' Bitch's Guide to Life' was contrived.  Seeing as how my hard-earned savings has dwindled and I am now relying on my income to pay upcoming bills, I've been living a bit more conservatively as of late.  It really made me think about the summer of 2009, when my friend told me the chocolate-covered-strawberry story, and all of the ghetto shit that I have done in my life due to lack of funds.  I am now going to write the entirety of 'The Po' Bitch's Guide to Living,' for your reading pleasure:



Every woman finds herself near the edge of destitution at some point in her life; for most, the age is during your college years or early twenties.  You are either living off of your student loans and struggling to budget yourself (remember how rich you felt when that $2,500 check arrived in September/January?), or you are paying off your student loans, working at an entry-level job, and thusly broke as hell.  Now, if you were like the majority, you failed to consider unexpected expenses into your student loan budget- like the cost of 'real' food (no, Carlo Rossi doesn't count), oil changes, random school supplies, etc.  Instead, you probably thought to yourself, "Let's see; I have enough to pay for books, the cost of rent for the next four months, oh... and this leaves me with $400 to spend on clothes and booze!".  WRONG.  How many times did you find yourself three months deep into the semester, and calling home because you needed some money to make rent that month?  I bet you wished you'd never gone on that $300, Forever 21 shopping spree two months prior to that moment of desperation.... Or, you may have found yourself rolling change; it might be your own change, or maybe change from your brother's change jar:  Enter the 'Po' Bitch's Strategies for Making Rent.'

I can't tell you how many times I panicked when I realized I'd spent my last $60 buying two cases of beer and a couple bottles of wine for a party.  Especially on a part-time, Claire's salary, when you knew your next check was a week away, and rent is due tomorrow.  Enter panic mode.  First, you decide that it's perfectly OK if your dietary staple for the next week is the bag of carrots in your fridge (hey, you wanted to lose a few pounds anyway, now you have no choice foo'!).  Next, you think of all the places you can allocate funding from.  In my case, I would drive home and do chores for my grandma.  It was great because I never actually had to humiliate myself by asking for money, per se, she would just hand over a $50 because I vacuumed under her bed and made her some cookies.  A bit shameful yes- but you can't think of it as taking money from the elderly; she wanted to give that money to you; she loves you... and besides, she had no intention of spending it on anything of importance or necessity anyhow.  Thank God for grandmas.  Next, you count all of your change- change you find in your car, change from under the couch, all of the loose change in your purse, change from your dad's dresser, wherever you can scrounge the change, you count it.  If you have the luxury of doing other odd jobs for people, you put all of those meager earning towards rent as well (in my case, I used to clean the church every other week for like, $60).  If all else fails, call home crying.  I always had enough shame that I didn't need to force this cry; I was usually tired, emotionally fragile, and desperate when I made that call, so the tears flowed naturally.  My mom and dad were always reluctant (I don't blame them... I shouldn't have spent so much fucking money on gourmet cheeses when I was in college), but always came through.  Thank God for parents!

Now, we know what usually made you so broke to begin with; spending money in places that were completely unnecessary.  For me, that was parties.  I threw many, many a theme party in college... and being the overly nice bitch that I was, I would always provide booze (hey, that's part of the reason my parties were so awesome and well-attended... no one is going to have a good time if it's BYOB).  I would usually end up spending around $80-$90 on alcohol, which is technically way more than I every should have.  In college, peeps aren't too picky about the booze they're throwing down their gullet; so to save money, I would buy cases of budlight, a couple bottles of Barton's vodka (can you say, 'hangover'?) for the jungle juice, and a couple jugs of Carlo Rossi for some homemade sangria.  Needless to say, everyone had an awesome time, and a killer hangover the next day.  Party decorations can be made to save money as well.  For a floozy-themed party, my friend and I made our very own stripper pole (real ones go for upwards of $300).  We purchased and cut-down to size a 11 ft. PVC tube, and spray painted it silver, and managed to wedge it between the floor and ceiling.  The thing was so popular, it became a permanent installment in the livingroom.  BAM! Po' Bitch's guide to throwing a party. 

Moving onto the 'Po' Bitch's Quick Fix for Minor Issues.'  I cannot even begin to describe the number of times I have fixed something or done something myself, without ever needing the services of a professional contractor, or even the "necessary" equipment.  When I moved into my very first college apartment, I was painting the walls with a friend, before any furnishings or clothing had been moved in.  As we sat there painting and drinking Red Cat (yes, we were very classy in those days), we realized how hungry we were.  We bought a pizza and had no cookie sheet on which to bake it; so we baked it right on the over rack.  When we took it out, we put it in a clean, paint-tray.  Voila! Problem solved.  Other times, I would find myself rigging a ceiling light and in need of some nails or tools I did not possess.  We had a tiled ceiling in that apartment, and so I hung this awesome, pendant light I owned with garbage ties... I kid you not.  I couldn't put nails in the ceiling tiles, could I?!  That thing fell down if a strong wind came along (or a drunk, gargantuan), but those garbage ties did the job.  I also remember a few years ago, when my favorite pair of espadrilles developed a flapping toe- you know, when the sole separates from the rest of the shoe?  I took some super-glue and fixed that shit right up.  I didn't have the funds for a new pair of $60 shoes to wear to that upcoming party, so I took matters into my own hands.  And when you are too lazy to go to the laundromat, or don't have access to a washer and dryer, there is a quick fix for keeping those clothes fresh:  febreeze, a lint-roller/or shipping tape (in a pinch) and a spritz of perfume....as fresh as if they had just come from the dryer!

'Po Bitch's Guide to Dining on a Budget.'  As I mentioned before, I would often spend my money in very foolish ways... what 21 year old college student drops $40 on goat cheese, organic tomatoes, proscuitto, and a bottle of wine?  Or makes shrimp scampi for her date? This one did.  When I wanted to impress some one by making dinner for them, I would usually pull out all the stops.  However, this usually landed me in a state of starvation by the end of the month, and I would have to find innovative and clever ways to use whatever ingredients could be scrounged up in my bare-bones cupboards.  I can't tell you how many times I made a frozen pizza last me 4 days.  One comes up with some pretty creative dishes when all they have are some flour tortillas, a half-empty jar of marinara, and some string cheese (in this case, I would make a Po' Bitch Pizza, btw).  Whether it's living off that container of yogurt all week, or using the remainder of that box of pasta to toss with some garlic salt and butter, one does what they must to prevent actual starvation.  Surprisingly, I was not as thin as I am now in college... probably because half my diet consisted of booze, and all too often, the only thing left in my cupboard was a jar of peanut butter, so I would live on that for a week.


For all of the financial struggle I have faced in the past, and for any financial struggle I may face down the road, there is always a means to making ends meet if one thinks like a Po' bitch would in the given situation.  As another friend told me earlier when I was joking that I might be poor soon, "There is no shame in being poor, it's just a goddamn inconvenience."  True that... except for the time when I had to go home and my gas tank was empty, and my bank account was at $5, and I had to run into the gas station with $2 to put half a gallon of gas in my tank... that might have been shameful.  Or asking my parents for money... that was always shameful too.  Hmm... perhaps there is less truth to that statement than I thought. ;)  I have a job interview tomorrow and one on Tuesday, so let's hope I don't end up resorting to my po'bitch tactics come March.

Streeesssssssssseeed

I was thinking about eschewing my acne meds for the time being, since my face is now 100% blemish free (knocks furiously on wooden desk).  However, given my increased stress level over these past few days, I suppose I better call that prescription in and fucking double dose that shit.  Not only have I consumed an entire jar of Trader Joe's cookie butter (that shit is so good it should be illegal), but to top off the sugar aspect of it all, my stress level has also increased due to two terrible nights at work.  It's such a vicious cycle, isn't it?  I come home late and pissed off, so I binge eat cookie butter, and then the sugar makes me break out in coincidence with the stress, and then I'm more stressed out because I've gained weight and gotten blemishes, so I eat more cookie butter... fml.

I mean, technically my first truly awful night at work was about a week after I had started, when I worked at an A$AP concert (hip hop artist) and two different tables walked on their checks and some other tables didn't even tip.  I was so furious I came home crying that night because I wanted to slap the shit out of those customers.  Who does that?! However, back to this week... awful tips.  AWFUL.  Last nights show was sponsored by MTV, so there was an open bar upstairs in the VIP balcony section.  I was feeling pretty honored that I got to serve in VIP, however, no one was eating (everyone was an anorexic hipster) and everyone was ordering a free drink... hence, no tips.  You would think that if a person wasn't paying for the drink, they would tip the server who brought it out for them, and weaved through the crowd of intoxicated customers balancing champagne glasses and screaming 'Excuse me' at the top of her lungs to no avail, an EXTRA generous tip... wrong.  The highlight of my night was the fact that some dude told me I had 'beautiful, big blue eyes' and I later found out it was Zedd.  Oh, and I served Jack White a Stella Artois.... that was pretty awesome.  I wasn't too terribly angry coming out of last night tip-less because the show/music was amazing.  However, whenever we have an EDM artist, I always get so jealous of everyone around me boozing and dancing.  When I hear that music I start craving cocktails and/or E. It's like a terrible tease.  Then I come home all wired and can't sleep until 3am, so I am a lazy ass who can't wake up before 10am and am worthless until noon.  Sigh.

Tonight was pretty infuriating.  I was again in the VIP section, and no one was eating... not a single person at the tables I was in charge of.  Additionally, they all swarmed in and weren't sitting at all... they wandered around the balcony so it made it extremely difficult to determine which server was in charge of taking care of which people, and keeping tabs.  Furthermore, they all hung out at the bar and ordered there instead of through me... so again, my tips fucking blew. And unlike last night's awesome DJ, tonight we had some British pop, girl-band "the Saturdays" playing.  There was a meet and greet in the VIP section after the show, so it was jam-packed with bodies and I was unable to move around and clean up tables... so I had to wait around milling about doing nothing but trying to look busy for an hour before I could finally mop the tables and leave.  I try to be a nice person, and I try not to judge or criticize people based on their bodies or looks, but I find that whenever I am feeling feisty or angry or pissed, I start to take jabs at the way a person looks in my mind as a method of coping with my frustration.  For instance, as I stood waiting for people to hurry up and take their damn photos so I could walk behind them to mop the table, all I could think was, why did this girl pay for cheek implants, when she should have paid for a personal trainer to work out the dumpy ass she is now galavanting on stage in latex shorts?  I don't like when I get like this.  I really need to learn how to deal with my anger and not start picking people apart based on physical appearance.  Then, some guy told me I was "definitely the hottest bitch working there."  This should have been a compliment, and was intended as one, but um, excuse me... who are you calling a bitch?  I throw around the term 'bitch' loosely.  I am a woman, so I can.  Kind of like black people using the 'N' word. you know?  If a guy refers to girls or women as 'bitches' and he isn't a flaming homosexual and joking with his girlfriends, it is just not ok in my book.  Then he proceeded to ask my age.  Haven't men learned you never ask a woman her age or her weight? So offensive.  ugh.

And then, to top it all off, I had the subway ride from hell, where my vicious thought train on picking apart people's physical appearance continued.  There were three, absolutely trashed, italian girls being loud and obnoxious as fuck.  Some hipster dude who clearly wanted to be Russell Brand was sitting next to them trying to flirt with them.  A side note on him:  he had terribly thin, fine hair that he had all ruffled up, a la Russell Brand, except I could see his bald scalp through the patchy hairs... and he had on guyliner and terrible tattoos of Octopi on his hands... so gross.  These girls though, omg, the whole subway car was pissed off listening to them scream and shout at everyone in their broken english.  One was sitting spread-eagle in a pair of sheer tights... little did she know I saw some perv standing in front of her staring at her crotch the entire time.  And then two of them started pointing at some guy standing in the middle of the car, laughing and continuing to gesture at him as they spoke in their native tongue.. so fucking rude.  Goddamn.  On another note, since this is a verbal tirade on humanity I am not quite ready to end, I fucking hate hipsters.  If I see one more pair of 'celestial print' leggings, I will fucking die.  Stop trying so hard to be cool and different... because you all look the fucking same to me, and you all look like vagabonds with poor taste at that.

Typical hipster chick (in summer mode); note the skeletal frame, floral head-piece, short-ass high-waisted shorts, and thick, untamed brows paired with red lips.  Please also note the coffee; probably from Toby's Coffee house, or Blue Bottle coffee.  

On a lighter note; as you may or may not have heard, I have a new foster cat named "Bon Bon," and no, I didn't name him... some old, Spanish dude did.  At first, I wondered why a male, short-haired cat would have the name 'Bon Bon'... I was expecting a fluffy, prissy cat to arrive when he was dropped off.  Alas, I think he is gay; so maybe the name works after all.  His meow is very soft and high pitched... though not as cute as Bijou's, and he loves watching me do my makeup and get dressed... definitely gay.   He has a mild form of cat ADD and suffers from anxiety since he was used to crossing highly-trafficked, four-lane highways at his own accord (apparently his last 'owner' didn't give a shit about him and he would often be seen by residents of the gated community meowing outside of the gates to get back into the building).  He now as a lavender-scented anxiety collar and gets special anxiety treats.  I can finally sleep at night; the first week I had him, he would wake me up by crying at the terrace door all night.  It was pretty awful.  Bon bon now likes to chill on the couch with me and he loves sitting under my chair when I'm at the computer.

I know I give off the impression that I love cats, because I love Bijou and now I foster them... but I swear to God, I will never in my life own more than one cat at a time.  Fostering indoor cats has changed my entire perspective about how fun cats are.  Bijou is great because he does all of his business outdoors, but now I find myself scooping the world's smelliest shit out of a litter box multiple times a day. Oh, and I failed to mention that when Bon Bon came to live with me, he had literally JUST been neutered, so he still had male hormones in his system, and his piss smelled up the entire apartment.  I almost fainted the first time I left Bon Bon here for a few hours and returned to my apartment... there is nothing more foul than the smell of cat pee.  The other issue of the litter box, is that I now have litter tracked all over my apartment, and being the neat freak that I am, I find myself constantly cleaning.  I guess I should just be thankful that this cat doesn't hide under my bed all day.  

Catching Up

I haven't written in a while (yet again...), so I figured I would do some catching up (for anyone who even reads this half-ass blog of loathing and narcissism).  I have been busy with my relatively new job as a server, as well as a new foster cat (more on Bon Bon in a minute), and I now have an awesome gig as a contributing editor with Renegadechicks.com!!!!! More on that in a minute as well.

I had a nice, but short-lived Christmas with my family upstate.  I was only home for two nights, and spent the majority of my Christmas Eve wrapping a billion gifts that I had sent upstate.  Sadly, I had to return to the city for work, and came back the day after Christmas in the midst of a pretty bad snow-storm.  As you may or may not already know, I have THE worst luck with public transportation of any person I know (mainly with buses).  I have had so many buses break down while I have been on them, that it was not even a surprise to me on my way upstate when the bus pulled off for a second pit stop.  I knew right away what was coming... buses usually make only one stop between Port Authority and Binghamton, not two.  Sure enough the driver came on over the intercom and announced that there was an issue with the temperature gauge that he needed to investigate.  Naturally I called everyone I knew and started fuming quietly over the phone.  As if riding a smelly, uncomfortable bus wasn't awful enough- why do the buses I ride almost ALWAYS encounter problems like break-downs and delays?  I thanked my lucky stars when the driver climbed back on after five minutes and said the bus was good to go again.  However, leaving Binghamton to come back to the city on the 26th negated whatever luck I had experienced on the 24th.  I wanted to stay home until the 27th, and travel back that day, but my parents argued the fact that there was going to be a snow storm, and so they encouraged me to leave the day after Christmas, before the snow had started.  I had to wait in a queue of about 60 people at the bus station, because apparently all of the buses were already delayed and some had cancelled trips in preparation for the on-coming storm.  I kid you not, I waited outside in 25 degree weather for an hour and 15 minutes.  I was shaking from cold and delirious with frustration by the time the bus pulled up.  I know many of you probably think this is a joke, but for the first time in my life I was glad I had gained some weight over the holidays, because had I not, I don't think my body would have been able to tolerate the temperature for such an extended period.  I finally climbed on the bus, all of my Christmas gifts in tow, and commenced.  Only a half-hour into the journey back to the city, snow started falling.  It grew worse and worse, and after only an hour on the bus, we were literally crawling down the highway at a snail's pace.  Needless to say, what should have taken 3 hours start-to-finish ended up taking about 6.5 hours (the hour of waiting at the station included).  I couldn't complain, because obviously the driver couldn't control the whether, and I was scared we wouldn't make it back that night at all, but JC- I swear to God I am NEVER RIDING ANOTHER GREYHOUND/COACH BUS SO LONG AS I LIVE!

Starting the new year off on a positive note, I have a new foster cat now too.  Breezy (the first foster) went to live with a couple that already has another cat; it was decided that it would bring her out of her shell more if she had some feline companions.  I just received an update about her today actually, and apparently she sleeps in bed with her new foster parents and loves being pet.  Funny- she hid under my bed for the entire month she lived with me, and I tried literally EVERYTHING to coax her out/make her feel at home.  WTF?!   Oh well, I now have a male cat named 'Bon Bon.' He is pretty sweet and actually enjoys cuddling, however he was recently neutered so he still has hormones producing the most foul-smelling piss I have ever smelled.  On top of that, he cried at my terrace door for like 4 days non-stop to go outside.  I used to love cats, but now I am reconsidering how much I actually like them living with me... at least I never have to worry about being a cat lady.  My heart belongs to Bijou... he is the only cat for me.  But enough about my on-going saga with cats....

I am currently getting around 20 hours a week at Highline Ballroom as a server.  It is less intimidating now that I know what to expect and how the system works, however, I hate not knowing how much I will make each night, never knowing how many hours a week I can count on getting, and never knowing what my paycheck will thusly look like.  I never thought of myself as the type of person who needs consistency and stability, I'm not one for planning in advance or making written budgets, or any of that nonsense, however, it is worrisome and gives me anxiety not knowing what my monthly income will amount to.  I had a couple of interviews last week, one of which I am really (fingers crossed) hoping I get hired for.  I applied and interviewed with Amika Hair care products (they are sold through Sephora and HSN), for a purchasing position.  I low-balled them when they asked me what kind of salary I was expecting to make, so hopefully that will be a selling point for me.  I REALLY REALLY REALLY want it.  I just want a regular 9-5 job with steady income and decent benefits, because now that I am slightly older, I realize you can still do what you really want to do on the side and not have to depend on your hobbies to make a living (unless things really start working in your favor).  On that note, I heard back from Renegadechicks.com (it's a more tamed down/friendlier version of jezebel.com) and I am going to be a contributing writer!!!!! You can look forward to more work from me there (I'm sure I will post links on Facebook, etc.).  I might have to tone down some of what I write (less swearing, etc.), but that shouldn't be too hard for me.  My primary topic of writing with renegadechicks is going to be women's issues... I'm stoked/honored that I get to do this!  Furthermore, I know I have shunned pinterest in the past, but I have been put in charge of maintaining renegadechicks pinterest boards, so keep your eyes open for that as well (I promise not to post lame love quotes and pictures of tea pots).

Life is certainly far from where I thought it would be at this point in life, however, it is looking up.  If I get that purchasing job, I think I will be much closer to where I want to be as a person and career-wise. Sigh.