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I Just Don’t Know What To Do 27.1.6>2

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Hello everyone,

It’s been a tough year. Lost a shit*y part-time day job last March, then discovered that my dentist has failed to restore my mouth so spectacularly, I’m now having to sue him. The sales of my books dwindled, so I sold the car in order to pay the bills until I finished my last novel. Started smoking again somewhere along the line. Stopped. Started. Stopped on the All Saints' Day, and by the Grace still smoke-free. Finished the book - two agent rejections thus far. It's a good book, although a bit more commercial than my usual borderline-transgressive YA. And still no sale. Argh.

So now I’ve ran out of money. Been looking for a job, something local, badly paid, not good. I have good education and all that, but I've always wanted to write, that’s it. Plus, things have happened that clear prevented me from having anything like a career - civil war, addiction/recovery, my own bloody-mindedness, that sort of thing. And now I’m suddenly fifty, and all I can do is make coffee (not all that well), and write (which is better than not write).

Worst thing? I seem to have lost the power to just get on with it. I don’t want to just get on with it anymore, f**k IT, I want what’s mine. Terribly inconvenient, you see. A friend asked me to help at her restaurant last Saturday, not only front of house, but in the kitchen, too, and I kind of watched myself standing down there at the sink, and I thought, ‘What happened to you?’ I don’t want to go back there ever again, I’d rather starve. But I have a son in the last year of the college, rent to pay, put food on the table. I’ve been doing this for me and my two children for the last 20 years. Can’t stop now.

Another worst thing: I hate it here. The province. Countryside’s fine, but the province sucks. No opportunities. No jobs. All my friends have moved away. Literally. The only friend that’s left is someone I don’t want in my life any more, due to my pretending that I was fine with stuff when in fact I wasn’t. Never mind, I’m too bust working out what to do with my life to have friends, or a man. Maybe I ought to take up a loan and study something for 3 years, something that comes easily anyway, like photography... and write on the side. And work, of course... But I don’t want to do just anything. Oh dear.

I thought about all of this as I approached Yi this morning. Money? Move? Writing? College? This feeling like I’m kind of done? And the answer came as 27.1.6>2

I get 27.1 alright, I reckon that Yi’s telling me, 'Stop feeling sorry for yourself, girl!' But what about the bigger picture?

Thank you...

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