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The ATM slip says $39. I have $16 in my pocket.
I've made do longer on less, it will be fine. Payday is the 30th.
Figure milk and bread. Not even bread, really, I know how to make
my own. Gas, mmm, $5 increments in the tank. It will work.
I need work. I quit Dulac, for personal reasons.
They still have my utmost respect and support. So, anyway, now I
need a job.
The hard part is, I have no diploma or degree in
what I do. Two AAs grace my records, one in Arabic and one in General
Studies. Not that impressive for a web designer. I am entirely
self-taught and pretty darn proficient, but no paper to back it up.
I'd be competing with people who have Bachelors in CIS.
There is so much I want to tell, bits and pieces
are bubbling up in my mind, and I am trying to figure how to structure
it, how to phrase it, what nice nicknames to use. The good friend
I'd wanted as a lover bitched me out today, but in a way that made me feel
good, because he is looking out for me. He says it doesn't matter
whether I like it or not, if something is due me, go ahead and ask for
it, be persistent, let it be known how badly I need it. And things
are slowly improving with the harlequin, carefully, gently. It is
looking positive. My husband is sending me emails and chatting to
me over this applet thing I have elsewhere in this site, making it abundantly
clear how much he loves me and misses me and how horny he is, etc etc.
And I want to crawl into a hole and not come out. The insincerety
coming from me is so shameful, the deceit so vile, but what can I do?
His attitude permeates his very being, the meanness, the disrespect, how
can I possibly want to have sex. And if it were cheap sex it would
be a bit easier, but he'll want to make love. You have to have love
to make love. And then there is the web business. And then
there are other ideas that have come up recently for the making of revenue,
none without their hitches. And to think I wanted to do an entry
today about parasites and symbiants, what the difference is and why it's
relevant to me. Oh and the big dog went to the vet who said he prolly
doesn't have rabies, don't sweat it.
What a big paragraph with so much crap in it.
Ah well, it's late, I am tired, so fuckit. Tomorrow I clean house.
Literally.
And thank you, Brooklynguy. For 99 things
and then some.
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