I need a reason to live.
I mean that in the least dramatic way possible too.
It's just that I'm such a goal oriented person that I'm completely directionless without a working project, progress, structured advancement. It's kinda why I HATE working in the service industry.
*scratches his head*
And I have trouble starting my own projects.
I mean, shit
I REALLY need to put together a better resume, I need to put together a portfolio, and I need to send another volley of poetry submissions out.
I guess my goals are still a great career, and a book or 12.
I have no idea where what how why when either of those will be.
I gotta stay focused, but right now, I don't have a story I particularly wanna tell.
Too much goin on I guess.
Also, sick, gonna die.
*peace sign*
I do kinda want a family, but fuck's sake, I sure am in a sea of uninterested women, uninteresting women, and unavailable ones.
Hey, at least I said uninterested first.
I gotta find a girl I can put up with for the rest of my life before I can have a critter.
I dunno, I'm just... dry and apathetic on that whole department right now.
I don't feel it getting fixed any time soon.
So where was I?
Right now, I need a job.
I want a career in a city where I can be actively part of the artistic community
I want to tell stories
I want a family...?
Guess it all comes down to execution huh?
Maybe I should go see a shrink. Get this all sorted out. Or... just set my arm on fire every day I dont' get something done towards these goals.
You decide.
Wait...no
I decide.
I just need a bit of refreshment for my parched soul.
I need a muse.
I need to pay my bills.
I want to cook.
That's really about all I wanna do these days. It's something I'm good at, and something I enjoy. Whereas there's about 100 other hobbies of mine that I enjoy, but I'm not good at, or vice versa.
I got a good fried chicken dredge in my head RIGHT now, been there all week. But no milk. Got the flower, got the spice, got the gigantic chicken legs... and I can buy wine again. Shank stew again? Yes please. Steak au poivre? Sure. My chicken stew needs shallots. We'll deal with that first.
No eats like peasant eats.
Which is weird. Some of the richest, tastiest, frenchiest (which means expensievest at a pretentious restaurant, yes I just invented a word) foods out there are easy and cost about a dime to make if you get your own damned ingredients and have an hour or so.
Don't judge me! I'm feverbaked and hopped up on aspirin.
