i r serious golfwidow. this r serious thread
I have no agenda against the Universe. But it sure does like to mess with me.
After seven years of not bitching about my job here, like so many other online writers do with impunity (in fact, I think I've written here more than once about how much I liked my job, and how I was willing to put up with it even when it's frustrating, on the basis that they paid me to take the frustration like a big girl), they still hit me in the face with the ol' "eliminating your position due to budgetary constraints" on Thursday.
What you don't know is that That Man of Mine has been on a fruitless job search for the past several months himself. I didn't talk about it because, while people like you to be honest, most of them don't want you to be that honest. It makes them uncomfortable.
We are well and truly fucked, now. I am ill and I was supporting both of us on my meager salary, and now I don't have that anymore.
I am terrified.
I hate like hell to do this, but I have no marketable skills and all the stuff I own is crap, so I can't sell you anything but myself.
I will write guest blogs for $2 each. I accept Paypal.
That's set at a cap of $2, by the way. I don't want charity — I have to earn that by writing a guest post. So if you keep clicking it, you're going to get a whole lot of guest posts, is what I'm saying.
You can choose the subject, within reason. I'll try to tailor what I write to fit into your blog's everyday format. I'd rather not to have to write or endorse anything I don't believe, but I will try to be fair to your requests, and I will also respect your blog by not writing anything that is in dissent with your opinions and beliefs.
I don't need your password. All I need is your URL (I'll direct what traffic I may to your site) and an email address for me to send the text to. You can copy and paste the text into your blog application's "body" field yourself without compromising your security.
$2. That's how desperate I am.
Oh, and? I got the news a few hours after having gotten the news that my friend E's husband had died suddenly that morning.
People's pets are sick and dying. People's dads are sick and dying. People's husbands? Sick and dying.
All this, after I decided to change my life and reach out to the Universe, to put money back into the financial ecosystem by giving whatever extra I had to charity.
To be positive about everything, all the time, in order to attract positivity to my life.
I can't do that right now. Maybe I can get back to it at some point, but at the moment, it doesn't feel like changing my outward attitude will change what I attract. It feels like pretending I'm happy is making me into a big fat liar.
All those people walking around what used to be my office, whining about their sniffles and the fact that they only had enough money for two pairs of new shoes when they wanted three, they still have jobs.
Me, I smiled all the time. Said "Great!" when people asked how I was. Didn't mention that I haven't bought new shoes in ages because I can't afford them when the bills and the mortgage and the groceries and blah blah expensecakes have to be my first priority.
But I'm the one causing "budgetary constraints."
My former employers, they don't know from budgetary constraints. And at least one of them told one of my former coworkers that they were unaware that That Man was also out of work, which wouldn't make a difference anyway, since the decision was already in place.
Except, he did know.
I had told him a few months ago.
And even if he'd forgotten, I'd mentioned it again, as I was leaving the meeting where they were telling me how truly, truly sorry it had to be this way.
He did know, and he still let it happen, and then he lied about knowing. But I'm the budgetary constraint.
I hope none of them ever sleep a wink again. I hope they lie awake at night, consumed with guilt over the fact that they have destroyed me.
They won't, because I believe they have no souls, but I hope it anyway.
$2.00. Please.
It's less than a gallon of gas.
Certainly less than cigarettes, and by the way, thank gourd I quit five years ago, because if I hadn't, I certainly can't afford to smoke now.
Besides, they're US dollars. They're not worth crap anyway.
(I considered writing to the White House to ask if the President would like me to guest post on his blog, but I didn't want to have to resort to using made-up words like "nucular" and "sublinial" if at all avoidable.)
Please.