Coming back from the dead to update you: finally got myself a fucking kick-ass job at a comic store. I love it. Everyday. The discount is a mere bonus (holy shit did I just say that?). I’m right now a month and a half into my three month probation and I’m hoping then next month goes by quickly because probation time is scary.
If you must know, I was often by my phone like this waiting for the call:
I’m also writing a novel. A piss poor excuse for a novel, but a novel non the less. Thanks NaNoWriMo for you are awesome. Your posts everyday inspire me. Though I no longer have time right now.
And now I’m working on my newspaper’s biggest issue of the year once again - meaning more money for more things I want from work.
I’m terrified that this is all a dream right now. Don’t pinch me yet!
The end of NaNoWriMo 2012 is fast approaching. We all began the month of November in the same place, facing the same blank page, but December 1 looms, and with it, at least four or five different ends to the journey we started together. Each ending comes with a conversation, some of which I’ve imagined below.
At the age of 27, you’d think my parents would take a step back and stop trying to dictate how I dress. Not so much. Apparently the majority of my clothes (which are from West 49) are “stupid” and my hair (which reaches to the top of my shoulder blades) is far too long.
Instead of getting angry I breathed in and walked away.
After all that’s happened, pretty sure I heard my brain snap and before I knew it I was cutting my own hair. Didn’t do much damage though… my hair is so thick that it’s hiding all that I did to it. Going to have to get it done properly I suppose… should I ever get a second job to pay for it.