#38 or "FLEE!"

Oh, hello world.
No, I'm not getting all Runaways on you, though that would be rad.
I realize I've neglected my blog like I've neglected my happiness.
Turns out you can only gain so much joy from drugs and alcohol.
And here I thought it was endless.

So after a great deal of rejection, I'm giving up on actually getting into a grad school for writing.
I'm applying to literary magazines to get published.
Due to my vanity and discerning taste, I truly believe my stuff is better than 98% of the fiendish maggot-infested bastardization of the English language that is other people's writing.
Oh yes, I'm humble too.

So this whole "Plan B" bullshit is starting up again.
I either:
A) take a couple of required classes to apply for psych grad school
B) take the LSAT and apply to law school
C) attempt to be a nurse

In the meantime, a new job is needed.
I do detest that a journalism degree doesn't get you a job anywhere, not even in journalism.
And especially not a good job.
The state of my life is that of deterioration.
I'm not a fan.
And I'm not about to take myself or life seriously.

"Every now and then when your life gets complicated and the weasels start closing in, the only cure is to load up on heinous chemicals and then drive like a bastard from Hollywood to Las Vegas ... with the music at top volume and at least a pint of ether." - HST

I suppose East Texas will do.

#38 - Drink way more than you should every single time. People be damned.