I've been having really shitty luck lately and have been letting it get me down. I've been pretty antisocial the past month.
Lost one job, but have others, and this'll let me have more time to write. Haven't been doing much with writing on account of all the paying work, and this I think has really been what's been getting to me. I'm almost done with my first real stab at nonfiction, hopefully I'll find someone to publish it, then work on revising the novel I wrote last summer and getting a book of poems together that I can tour with next year. In the meantime, I can just model more, which is great fun and pays better than silly real estate, though is less steady. i have two out-of-state shoots in the next two weeks, which means I get to see more of New England, so these are all good things.
I had a wonderful Thanksgiving with DW's family, and I get to see my own personal family for almost a whole week at Christmas. Every day I get another rejection letter from some literary journal that doesn't want any of my poems, but like my former holistic shrink would say, every rejection is one letter closer to the eventual acceptance. Or something.
Give me love, lovelies. Your glitterteeth and camerahearts only blind me with all that glare.