​​Life's hard, amazing, rough and all around a massive waste of time and then the ultimate reward is a dirt hole in the ground. Now that we have started off this entry with a bucket of sunshine, let's get down to the nitty gritty. For the first time in my life, I have been itchin' to write, fiending even--like a crack addict locked in a wood box three days after her last snort (can you snort crack? oh well, I very obviously don't do crack). However, life grabbed me by the balls and yanked me all around doing mundane things I could not care less about even if my very mortality depended on it. As mentioned above, I know that every writer looks for an excuse to not write and that alone is frustrating because you aren't getting stuff done because you're just too lazy, but the frustration of wanting to be productive and just get shit done already but being unable to because you have to dabble in classes or because you put off doing your Redneck Couture updates for a negligent amount of time or because you've slept about six hours since last Thursday and by the time you got home from getting skullfucked by the coverage you stacked up and you just need a fucking nap. Moral of the story: I got it all done. All of the mundane things I don't care about, the papers, the web content, fixing my aunt's TV, I got it all done and now I can spend the weekend I get to dip into projects I have had brewing to dump into development purgatory. 

So, I'm spending most of the day with my book Things That Go Bump, dabbling with the Overlooked--as I patiently wait for the notes on the first draft of my senior project. Things That Go Bump is the project that is almost endless fun and it's something I can do that always just makes me feel better and calm me down. I mean, while I revise it kind of makes me cringe at first like, "OH MY GOD, WHY, WHY DID YOU WRITE THAT? HOW DID YOU THINK THAT WAS EVEN KIND OF A GOOD IDEA?" but once I build a very sturdy bridge and get over that, I keep on through and it gets me to write. It puts me in a writing mood and then I want to get more and more done. If you find yourself stuck on writing something, write something else. 

As a writer, you have to pick and choose your battles at the end of the day. Sometimes, no matter how wonderful you think something is, it's probably absolute garbage to someone else. Step back and come back to whatever it is after a good three days of self denial and loathing and you'll figure out the good notes from the bad. 

​​Oh boy, what a week. Now, you're probably thinking that I mean that in a way of, "Oh boy, what a week of being productive, writing and working on all of my new and old projects, oh and of course there was that whole receiving the Nobel Peace prize thing!" But alas, it is not. "Oh boy, what a week" as in, "Oh boy, I have been crushed and defeated and beaten senseless by a meat tenderizer as I limp through the finish line of fall term." Now, here's the thing. It drives me absolutely bonkers when students complain about their colleges or universities. Drexel is amazing. I am so incredibly lucky and fortunate to have been a part of this program, and I wish I was getting paid to say that because holy fuck is Drexel expensive. You know what? Drexel is a lot like hanging out with a prostitute for four years--paying an awful lot of money to get screwed and spanked. However, I wouldn't change it for the world. Most of my frustrations with the school can be categorized by two things: bureaucratic bullshit that happens at every college or university but ultimately at the end of the day the actual program I am in and the professors I have are great; and the second is my own damn fault, I bit off more than I could chew, I procrastinated, or I simply rushed things too quickly. If you're a student that finds his/herself blaming everyone and their mother around you on your own damn problems, step back for a minute and assume some damn responsibility. I'll admit it. Fall term was ROUGH. I took on a twenty credit course load that was incredibly writing intensive with four, three hour classes and over 100 pages of reading a week, on top of being a full time reader. I felt like I was in a constant state of playing catch up. You know what though? When things got "bad" I could always trace it back to a choice I made. You know what that does? It allows me to learn from my mistakes, or figure out how to correct such an issue in the future. As of right now, a big issue I'm struggling with is the fact that I'm "plugged up." I don't have writer's block. That's not a thing. If you say it's a thing you are a dirty rotten liar and you should be ashamed of yourself. "But Lexx, that's not a nice judgement to pass. Sometimes writers can't think of ideas and don't know what to write!" BULLSHIT. 100% Grade A, kink.com, BULLSHIT. A writer can write about anything, any time, anywhere, as long as that writer has something to write with. There's really no excuse for not writing other than coma or death--and even in some of those situations people can't get a pass. My damage for getting little done this week has to do with mistress laziness and that old fucker called "responsibilities." Life happens. Don't feel bad for not writing, but don't make excuses for it either. My mind is constantly buzzing with ideas, characters, fun conversations and terrible flashbacks to Middle School. I can write all the time, but I don't. It's not because I can't, it's just because I'm doing something else. After realizing some fatal flaws in what I conceived to be an awesome movie last week, I went through and changed many much things. However, in doing so, I managed to split the idea into two separate movies because a lot of the backstory that I wanted to put in wouldn't have made it into the movie--but it would definitely be fun on its own. I spent an entire hour working on this completely separate concept than the one I started last week and ended up reprimanding myself for almost that long because I HAVE OTHER THINGS I SHOULD HAVE BEEN WORKING ON. But I wasn't working on those other things not because I'm stuck, have writer's block or don't want to write--but because I was writing something else. Sometimes ideas just don't work out--and that's okay.

​​Now, I know people say that change is good and that you should experience new things, but at the end of the day, if it ain't broke...don't destroy it just because an authority figure or the internet says so. I love talking about my ideas, I very much enjoy telling people stories--which, ya know, I hope explains the whole pursuing the life of being a writer thing. However, here's where I might be setting myself up for failure...I hate when people read my stuff. When someone offers (or is forced to) read anything that I have written, my blood turns to cement and I realize just how much of a little grasp I have on this whole story telling thing/the English language. I immediately hate my own creation. I feel like a parent in the grocery store helplessly watching as my misbehaving, bratty, ugly, fat brat child throws a temper tantrum and smear feces all over the cereal aisle. I didn't make that thing. That's not mine. I promise he was not this much of a monster when we were in the car. I don't know what to do. I have completed the first draft of my senior project after about what feels like thirty other first drafts of the same project, before I finally got the son of a bitch into a readable place. I have sent it off to the great and powerful Oz for a grade and some notes. I don't think I have ever been more mortified in my life--and I have quite literally come back from the dead. Immediately after I sent it, I sent the draft over to my fiancé (as of October 20th, 2016--SQUEE), a writer that is significantly more talented than I am and knows what he's doing, to take a gander at it. Now, here's the thing. If you look anyone in the eyes and that person says that his first draft is "good," do him a favor and just straight up deck him. You might be able to knock the stupid out of him. First drafts are bad--they're supposed to be. They are a testament to the fact that you could get the words down on the page. Now that you have done that, now that you have done the first round of a hundred pages, now you get to go back and fix stuff in order to make it less nauseating, and then hopefully before you are on your death bed, it might even be decent. Connor (fiancé and better writer than me) offered notes and suddenly I was like, "F*CK, THIS IS AWFUL. WHY DID I THINK THAT THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? IS MCDONALD'S  HIRING? I'LL JUST GO DO THAT FOR FOREVER." But he made something clear to me, "Lexx. This is the first time you're writing this stuff down. It's not supposed to be perfect," followed by that massive speech as mentioned previously. But that's my damage. I want it to be perfect. I don't have confidence in much. I don't have confidence in really anything. However, when it comes to my writing, I am so confident in my characters and how I feel about the writing that when it doesn't supersede expectations in the first round, I feel like I have disappointed not only myself (which I am pretty apathetic to because I do that on like, an hourly basis) but also the reader, the whole audience, people I've pitched the idea to, and ultimately, my characters--the people that I spent time, effort, care and love breathing life into and creating. My characters are so important to me. I don't mean to sound like a pretentious piece of garbage or anything, but my characters are like, real people. I love them, adore them. They make me laugh, they make me feel. I empathize with them and I care what happens to them and I want to share them with the world. I want them to improve the lives of others. I want my readers/audience to see my characters and want to hang out with them, want them dead, or however those characters are supposed to make them feel. So, when my first attempt isn't perfect, I feel like I have let them down. Peer editing doesn't help me. It actually hurts me.

​​An individual posed the very rational question, "Have you considered that you have taken on too many projects and are stretching yourself thin?" The answer is of course, oh absolutely I bit off more than I could chew, have you seen the size of my mouth? I did used to be 275lbs after all. No, but in all seriousness, I love having projects to work on. There's never a time for me to be bored because I know I have things to work on. The frustration comes into play when 87% of those tasks that I have to do are for things that I struggle to care for or I find to be superfluous. For example, I completely understand that sociology (although a totally fake science, I would have rather learned alchemy or something) and art history are part of the human condition and therefore can only improve my writing and my understanding of storytelling--I, along with nearly all of my classmates taking those classes as requirements, did not retain a single bit of information from those classes. Go ahead. Tell me something that you remember from your required humanities classes from college. "But Lexx! What if you are writing something for someone that requires knowledge of sociology or art history. Now you'll be at a loss!" No. I have the entire internet at my disposal. If I honestly wanted to understand why in the world a textbook I had to pay money to buy says "SEX is a social construct", I'll look it up on the internet and marvel at the sheer amount of stupidity there. Education is super important. Please, do not think for a second I don't take my education seriously or with immense amounts of pride. I'm a nerd. I love learning, I love completing projects.

Unrelated, find out what makes you write. If setting deadlines and expectations in public will force you to get things done, then do it. Even if I come up with a shit 10-15 pages, I did it. I wrote them. Rewriting is MUCH easier. Find someone to keep you accountable for your writing. You probably disappoint yourself all of the time, it's nothing new--but disappointing another person is a whole new ball game, and you have no idea how motivating that can be. Writing is "hard" because of that. So, if you're going to be a bank teller when you're all grown up, there's a fairly good possibility that you don't do that recreationally, in your spare time or in order to express yourself. And if you do, I'm not judging, I'm just simply suggesting that you get checked out. Writing on the other hand, writing is a really big way that people can express themselves, explore worlds and possibilities they are unable to explore and it's a recreational thing--which makes it a DIFFICULT JOB. Why? If you like it, if it's fun, then why in the world would it be difficult to do? Because there's little to no responsibility to writing recreationally. One afternoon you just decide, "Hey, I'm gonna write that novel about the dog." You can go off and do that, get an outline down and then maybe pump out fifteen pages over the next six months and there's no one you're really disappointing other than yourself and that's okay because we disappoint ourselves professionally. However, when you want it to be a job, it's difficult to get out of the mindset of, "It's writing, I can get around to it whenever I want because I like writing." Well, spoiler alert, no one actually LIKES writing. I enjoy the act of writing, I like the clicking on my keyboard and if I'm exciting enough about a concept, you bet your sweet bottom booty that I'm going to do my absolute diddly darndest to write it down, but it's hard coming up with words to put the ideas in my head down. SO...moral of this story is, now I finally have the opportunity to drag my ideas out of development purgatory and put them down onto paper. Hold onto your butts, ladies, gents and germs. Here we go. 

Ever wonder if you were really just a character in someone's story? Like, who would you be? Would you be the antagonist? Or perhaps one of those characters that just pops up in the background ever now and again that the audience always recognizes, but can't tell from where--are you this story's Jane Lynch? I worked on a project way back in the dark days of high school about a high school senior that found out that he was a fictional character--not in a Stranger Than Fiction kind of way, but in the way that he only existed as long as the author was writing. He regained this sentience, while the characters around him stopped entirely if she stopped typing. He had no control over his own words or actions, but was completely aware of this fact--even though he could do nothing to actually express himself. This is an excellent segue into what this week's topic is actually about: garbage ideas. Look, everyone has shit ideas--this is a fact, and if you're that dick bag that firmly believes all of your ideas are golden ones, you in fact were probably a mistake. That's harsh, I'm sorry--only kind of, but still sorry. It's okay to have bad ideas--especially because it means you can understand the difference between a good idea and a bad idea. The first four of whatever it is you are passionate about (stories, scripts, films, paintings, photos, etc.) are probably going to be some flavor of crap. That's why you should be working on stuff as much as possible and all of the time--get those garbage ideas out of the way early, and that way you can learn and grow, and get a jump on the things that actually matter. Sometimes you have to dish out your crappy ideas, and flesh them out to actually face the reality that they don't work. However, there are those that can't recognize an ugly kid when it stares them right in the face. Go and create--but not everything you create is going to be good, or even passable for that matter--AND THAT IS OKAY. Don't revel in mediocrity, improve. Keep doing the thing. 

​There are some really terrible things in this world. Wanna know what number 22 is? Wet peanut butter. Yes, there are much worse things in life, but I would rather be shot point blank than to ever touch, or smell wet peanut butter ever again. I don't like doing dishes. I know that's such a pretentious, millennial thing for me to say, but it is very much true. I can cook, and clean, and pontificate like there is absolutely no tomorrow. I don't mind scrubbing toilets, doing laundry, or even cleaning the floors--but the damn dishes, I just have such a struggle with. When I was an intern, I didn't mind doing the dishes in the community sink. I don't mind loading a dishwasher. However, what I do mind, is when people leave practically their entire meal on their plates, and then dump it into the sink. I'm not sure who it was in my household that ate a third of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and then put the rest of it in the sink, then proceeded to run the sink, successfully drowning the bread, jelly and aforementioned peanut butter until it was nothing but a horrendous, goopy, half liquid half solid abomination rotting in the sink for me to take care of later. I hope this person swallows a spider in his or her sleep and suffocates to death.

​Not really, but still.

I may have mentioned that one of the worst things in the world is wet peanut butter, and even though that is still very much an absolute fact, I have something worse to complain about. Time. There's never really enough of it, while simultaneously there is too much of it. There's never enough time to do the things you want to do, but the second that you are stuck with something that you would rather die than complete, then there's all the time in the damn world. Over the last few weeks I have chomped off more than I could chew--my jaw practically unhinged like a snake's. I never had any time to do anything--fun or awful--it seemed. However, in the last two days I have managed to finish all of my work, and now I have free time and I have absolutely no idea what to do with it, or how long it will last. I could work on wedding planning, or a new TV series I started writing, or perhaps I can try and salvage this feature I have been slogging through. No matter what though, no matter which I choose or whatever combination of the above, I still won't have enough time.

It is incredibly difficult to care. I know how weird that sounds, especially because writers/creators are so passionate about their works, but caring is HARD. You dump so much time, effort, imagination, and heart into something, and at the end of the day there's a high possibility that the something is complete and utter garbage. It's hard to care about something that is deeply flawed after so much effort. It's hard to care about something that you know is a lost cause. It's hard to care about something that you know is terrible, but you have to keep interacting with it, and awkwardly putting it in front of others out of obligation. I'm not a confident person. In fact, practically the only thing I am confident in is how little confidence I have in myself. You want the best damn assistant you could ever ask for? I'm your girl. However, I have been taught time and time again that the minute I ever get too confident in anything that I do, someone is there to remind me of how much of an idiot I am for attempting to try that. Now, this isn't a pity party or a boo-hoo tell me I'm pretty kind of deal. This is a very real thing that a lot of people feel. A lot of people have their confidence shaken by trivial things. Want to know what rocked my world totally ass up sideways today? A very talented person, doing the job that I pay him to do, trying to help me in his own round about way. He's not wrong about the things he had to say about my project. Criticism and collaboration are two major parts of this process and industry. BUT, it'll never be helpful to me in the moment. In the moment, it will make me hate my words and curl up into a little ball of hot self loathing. This happens to people. People have their moments of, "Why did I ever think I could do this?" And you know what? That's completely okay. You know why? Because I have had a million and eight of these moments--just in the last six months alone, and you know what? I'm still writing. I'm still working on scripts, and stories, and projects. I'm still collaborating, participating, and thinking. I still love writing, and coming up with really fun dialogue, and action sequences randomly at four o'clock in the morning. It doesn't matter to me that I have no confidence in myself. I never have. Confidence works for some, and not for others. I know what I am good at, and I know what I love. The whole point of this blog post I guess is to reach out to those who can't take the notes, or don't know where to go next, or are considering giving up on a passion based on a whim of being down in the dumps. Hitting rock bottom ain't so bad, because once you're down there, and alone in the dark--you take solace in your own stories to keep you company.

​You know what's super frustrating? Lines. I'm talking about like the ones at the grocery store--or my favorite kind of train wreck, Walmart. It's not for the reason you think so either. I don't personally mind waiting. Waiting is easy. My personal philosophy is that if you have to rush, you didn't give yourself enough time. No one should ever have to rush to do anything ever except maybe an ambulance driver. My issue with lines is that they are packed full of people--which is being incredibly kind to the absolute wastes of life I have seen taking up space. I once had half a mind to tell the woman three people in front of me that refused to accept the fact that her two year expired coupon wasn't going to work, to find the tree making the oxygen for her and apologize to it. It baffles me sideways about how some of these people in line treat cashiers, customer service reps, and their children...don't even get me started on the children. "Oh look how cute little Timmy is!" Ma'am, no, Timmy just ran straight into the Coinstar machine head first and is now making the shrills of a thousand banshees in the night. He's not cute. Natural selection is gunning for you and your family. Anyway, back to why lines bother me. You don't need a degree in sociology to figure out who the world is doing. You just need to wait in line and watch evolution work backwards. People don't know how to handle waiting. They have no patience during the waiting, and then when it's their turn to speed up the process, they forget what was annoying them and proceed to take 34 years at the register. Again, I never put myself in a position where if I'm in line, I'm getting antsy. I once waiting in line at an Acme for 27 minutes. This was no one's fault. Suddenly, all of the computers/cash registers shut off simultaneously. I thought we were about to find ourselves in the middle of a heist movie, but four minutes passed and everything was back up and running again. The moral of this story isn't to get you ready to stab the morons in front of you in line at the local Dollar Tree. The moral is, waiting is the perfect opportunity for you to get things done. You may not think it, but waiting in line allows you to do a whole hell of a lot of thinking if you're not too busy being entertained. When you find yourself stuck with nothing but you and your thoughts, use that time to actually do some thinking. You have no idea how many writing problems you can solve and realize while you're standing there with a bag of pretzels and a tube of mini M&Ms in your hand in the 10 items or less line while the chick in front of you shovels out twenty things of lunch meat and enough yogurts to feed a small colony.

I get these terrible headaches. It feels like someone has shoved broken glass and Lego pieces within the wrinkles of my brain, and every time I have a thought, my brain pulses and digs the sharp edges in further and further into the squishy tissue. It's very unpleasant. Speaking of headaches, I had to explain to a coworker recently that caramel isn't naturally occurring.  

I have very little wisdom to share with people. I'm not that old. I'm pretty sheltered and fortunate. However, I do have a little handful of tidbits that I can share with anyone that could be seen as some good advice.

1. Don't be an asshole. It's honestly one of the simplest, and easiest things you can do--NOT doing something. Not really sure why this is lost on people. Just, don't be an asshole. It's so easy.

2. Talk to people. You'd be surprised where a kind conversation can take you.

3. Always have something to work on.

Have a nice day.  

The last few weeks I have been asked the same question an awful lot: How do you come up with all of these ideas? There's absolutely zero way to answer that question without sounding like a pretentious douche. To be perfectly honest though, coming up with the ideas isn't the profound part--it's sorting through all of the garbage ideas until I find one that is actually worth working at. Ideas are great, even bad ideas have their appeal. However, it's all about what you do with those ideas that give them any real substance. All of the ideas and stories are already stored up and packed away in your imagination, you just have to shake it loose until you find one that you love. What is it that you want to watch? Who would you want to hang out with? What's the person like that you would fall in love with over and over? What's the dick wagon you could kill and not care about like? It's all up there waiting for you to think about it a little more. So do it.

I think everyone struggles with hopelessness, and I think it gets a bad rep. You see, negativity is always seen in this awful light. You're never allowed to feel bad. You're never allowed to feel ugly, like a loser, like nothing is worth it, that you made the wrong choice in life, like you're worthless, like you're fat, like you're unlovable, that you're awful, etc. I don't agree with this practice. If someone feels bad about him or herself, there's a reason. Simply telling that person "you're not hopeless!" "you're not untalented!" "you're not ugly!" or even worse "stop saying that, you're not blah blah blah" or "Every body is beautiful!" or "You're being moody" or "Stop being negative." It's all unhelpful. You know what? Sometimes people are right about those negative things. Sometimes you feel ugly because you are. Sometimes you feel worthless because you have no worth. Sometimes you feel like everything is falling apart and not worth it...because it is falling apart and it's absolutely not worth it. To suppress and to deny those dark thoughts is a toxic form of denial. You know why junk food tastes so much better than vegetables? Because you've tried vegetables and learned that you don't like some, but they are good for you. Now, don't get me wrong, bad emotions and thoughts are by no means fun to have or overly healthy for you, but they are important. Sometimes you need to feel bad in order to feel the good. I know that seems twisted and cynical, but it's true. If you ever stop to think, wow, this is how TERRIBLE my life is, and you check back in on yourself two weeks or two years from then, and you not only survived, but it got better, then you're coming out on top. Recently, Connor had a conundrum with hopelessness in his writing. He claimed that he didn't care about his writing anymore, and didn't feel that it was worth it. I fought him tooth and nail on that. He's an incredibly talented individual that's stuck. We worked through some of his ideas and his tangles, and he got right back into writing again. Giving up should never be an option, but bottling up and ignoring the bad thoughts isn't good. You're going to have them. Own them and move forward. ELEMENTARY's Joan Watson has a great quote when she's lecturing Sherlock about his sobriety. His friend Allistair had just died of a drug overdose, and Allistair had been sober for 30 years. Sherlock had just made it a little over​ a year, and he felt he was in the clear, and his friend's death threw him into the depths of doubt. She says, "You're an addict Sherlock. You woke up today and you didn't use drugs, just like yesterday. You know what you have to do tomorrow? Wake up and not use drugs." You find that thing that bothers you, the thing that crushes you, the thing that scares you, the thing that just buzzes in the back of your brain pushing you down deeper into a dark, spiraling hole of never ending whatever--and you do whatever it is that you do to keep your head above it, just like yesterday. I lost a ton of weight, but I still hate my body. Some days more than others. I feel hopeless in my career sometimes because what I want to achieve seems so impossible. I'm in a dark headspace 94% of the time--but I wake up every day happier than I have ever been. I have a loving fiance that supports me and encourages me and my crazy schemes. I have a job. I write all of the time. I never give up on looking for opportunities. I enjoy myself--watching my collection of DVD boxsets of my favorite TV shows for hours on end on a Sunday, or enjoying a Let's Play with Connor. Yeah, I let things get to me and they get me down sometimes, but as long as I keep doing what I'm doing, doing my due diligence, writing, supporting the people I care about, I'm doing everything right. No matter how much I hate myself or the world tries to get down on me about that, no one can ever say that I didn't try my best, and did everything that I could. That's the rub. That's when those bad feelings get bad. When you corner yourself with the "ifs." Just do you, no matter what version of you you happen to be today. Just keep going.

​OOOOOH!!! You know what really grinds my gears? Well, lots of things, I think I even already started a blog post off this way, but that's unrelated. So, the Christmas season means A LOT to me. Heck, I called it Lexxmas time. Christmas for me isn't just the last week of December in which we give and get gifts, through decorations up, and pretend to practice a faith that we only really pay attention to at the holidays, weddings, and funerals. Christmas has always been an epic time. There's a tradition in my house where we put up the tree the day after Thanksgiving to Johnny Mathis' Christmas album. I listen to Christmas music all year long. Christmas music, decorations, movies, etc, it all just brings me such joy--no matter when I am experiencing it. I think that's kind of what Christmas actually means (in a non religious context). It's a time of year where people return to the comfort an joy they felt when they were kids. This leads me to something that drives me nuts--people suddenly think that Ron Howard's live action HOW THE GRINCH STOLE CHRISTMAS is the worst thing to ever happen to Christmas. And I say BOO to those critics. If you find one of these party poopers that claim that this film is "the worst", ask that person, "Why do you hate this movie?" That person may counter with the following responses:

      "It just sucks!"

      "Jim Carey is terrible!"​

      "It's not canon."

      "The original cartoon was way better."

      "The cartoon is the only Grinch for me."

Look, everyone is entitled to his/her own wrong opinions, but this movie falls into this weird internet realm of hate that no one actually hates, but they say they do because everyone else does--similarly to NICKELBACK. Ron Howard's GRINCH is actually an amazing movie. It hits every single beat not only a Christmas movie requires, but what a good movie requires. We get a fundamental understanding as to why the Grinch is the way that he is, and heck, a lot of people can identify with him, as well as Cindy Lou. It's got some great music, lovely laughs, and it's something that anyone can sit down to watch and enjoy. Now, the NEW Grinch, coming out in November, THAT is something that I imagine will get the hate that its earned for it doesn't feel like anything but a holiday fan fiction of DESPICABLE ME. It's not bringing anything new to the story like Howard's Grinch did. Moral of the story: it's a good movie. Don't just hate something because everyone on the internet told you to.

I didn't mean to make this post so geographically close to the HOPELESS? post, but here we are. This week I suffered a bit of a major set back. I was let go from my first job. It would be a lot easier to beat myself up over it if I had done something wrong, but all my superior told me was that he wanted a change, and that change is that we no longer would be working together. It was shocking, embarrassing, and terrifying. However, I have learned something: I have an astounding number of people that have my back. You never really know how many people like or need you until you're ripped out of their lives. I'm going to miss going to the office every day and working for all of those fine, splendid individuals, but I am so happy to have met every single one of them--and they are happy to have known me. I have a support system that reminds me that I'm not one to give up easily, and that I have people that have the best in mind for me. I got this network not because I'm someone powerful, but because I'm a good person. I don't think people realize how important that is. I have all of these people watching my back, and helping me look for new jobs not just because I helped them out once, or even because I might be able to do something for them in the future--but because they know I'm a damn good investment of time and resources because I'm kind, have impeccable work ethic, and I'm awesome at what I do. When I'm in an office, I look for any and all tasks I can take on in order to make everyone's lives run as smoothly as possible, and that goes a long way. I treat people how I want  to be treated, with admiration and respect. I was great at my job--and it still came to an abrupt, and shocking end. "Everyone gets fired" is one of the six same sentiments I have heard from basically anyone I have ever spoken to over this last week. I know everyone gets fired. I never thought I would never get fired, but it's WHEN I got fired that's got me all jammed up. I'm at a point in my life where financial stability is so far in the distance that it's in another country code. My fiancé's contract is almost up at his job, so the unemployment might over lap. My car insurance is way too high. I have student loans to pay. In order to get a job I have to network and go out and take people to lunch and spend money in order to land something to make me money. It's scary, and aggravating, and I have no idea what to do with spare time. I'm writing, but it seems empty. It's not fun to write when you have this looming terror ripping at your insides. Everything ends. Everyone gets fired. Everyone finds themselves in shitty situations.  The only thing I can do now is keep going like I always do, and hope that everyone is right about how I'll be okay, and how I'll find something so much better soon, etc. The thing I want to get out of this post in particular, is a major thank you to everyone that has rallied around me and shared so much support. It has meant the world to me. Words mean so much to a lot of people. Don't forget to utilize them.

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