Directive?
So my hours got cut at the amazing new job I landed. Did I mention I work once a week -- twice if John wants me to hang out. Things could be worse, I guess.
It's just that this job was supposed to be the trade off for things falling through with Mr. At-My-Convenience. I called an ex last night to gain some insight into the reality of my problems. He told me to stop feeling sorry for myself. So with that resolve, I'm trudging forward through my current guy problems as well as the evidential transience of all the good luck that found its way to my doorstep within the same time span. It feels good.
Ugh, what am I saying? I'm still holding on to... um... my dignity? I don't know what I'm still holding on to. But I've still got my fingers crossed that everything with pan out the way I've learned life usually does.
In other news: I'm writing a book, now.