Eyes On The Prize
I have so much I need to accomplish over the next two months, and no idea how I'm going to do it.
For one, I need to get my health in order. My body has started to reflect things that will soon be irreversible. Yes, some of it's superficial, but it's quite important to me. I have never gotten to feel attractive in my life, and the time for me to do so is quickly running out. I need to lose weight, gain strength, and stop my skin from breaking out and scarring. My knees hurt, my arms are flabby, and I get winded walking up stairs. I only wear 40% of my wardrobe, because the rest doesn't fit comfortably. I am constantly sick (cold/pneumonia/bronchitis for a month) and tired (see previous). All I want to do is sit, eat, and stare. This is not who I want to be.
Secondly (and coinciding with the health thing because no one will hire a sloth), I need to write a sitcom. NBC is having a contest for new show ideas. I have dreamed of working on one for as long as I can remember. I am in competition with literally millions, and I am tragically unprepared. The submissions are due June 30th. I have several ideas, but nothing spectacular, or even concrete. I was going to take a class on script writing where I work, but it got canceled. The guy running the class charges $400, and I don't even have enough money to pay my bills. Somehow, I've got to work things out so I can create the best piece I have ever made. I am terrified I won't even make the callback list, but I have to try.
Then, I have this whole job thing to figure out. I can't keep working the way I have been. I'm not making money, and I'm not doing what I love. I'm poor as fuck, and only doing something I mostly like. Slowly, it's turning the corner to being something I don't hate... which will continue to something I kind of don't like... and eventually, it will be a job I dread going to, just like every other place I've ever worked. I've hit my ceiling, and no one has interest in helping me around it. I have said a million times how tired I am of being poor. I cannot stress it enough. My life is awful, and I can't waste another second of it suffering through.
Things need to happen in the next 60 days, or I'm in big, big trouble.
For one, I need to get my health in order. My body has started to reflect things that will soon be irreversible. Yes, some of it's superficial, but it's quite important to me. I have never gotten to feel attractive in my life, and the time for me to do so is quickly running out. I need to lose weight, gain strength, and stop my skin from breaking out and scarring. My knees hurt, my arms are flabby, and I get winded walking up stairs. I only wear 40% of my wardrobe, because the rest doesn't fit comfortably. I am constantly sick (cold/pneumonia/bronchitis for a month) and tired (see previous). All I want to do is sit, eat, and stare. This is not who I want to be.
Secondly (and coinciding with the health thing because no one will hire a sloth), I need to write a sitcom. NBC is having a contest for new show ideas. I have dreamed of working on one for as long as I can remember. I am in competition with literally millions, and I am tragically unprepared. The submissions are due June 30th. I have several ideas, but nothing spectacular, or even concrete. I was going to take a class on script writing where I work, but it got canceled. The guy running the class charges $400, and I don't even have enough money to pay my bills. Somehow, I've got to work things out so I can create the best piece I have ever made. I am terrified I won't even make the callback list, but I have to try.
Then, I have this whole job thing to figure out. I can't keep working the way I have been. I'm not making money, and I'm not doing what I love. I'm poor as fuck, and only doing something I mostly like. Slowly, it's turning the corner to being something I don't hate... which will continue to something I kind of don't like... and eventually, it will be a job I dread going to, just like every other place I've ever worked. I've hit my ceiling, and no one has interest in helping me around it. I have said a million times how tired I am of being poor. I cannot stress it enough. My life is awful, and I can't waste another second of it suffering through.
Things need to happen in the next 60 days, or I'm in big, big trouble.