Sad Truth.

I’ll keep this simple.

The reason Donald Trump is so popular and seems to be leading the GOP pack is because he is the dream personified of every small-minded racist American: obscenely rich, filterless, married to a younger trophy wife, a veritable emperor of business, and, perhaps most importantly, able to say and do whatever the fuck he wants without fear of reprimand or consequence.
And that’s the sad truth.


Struggling with your career can, at times, feel like you’re drowning.

Like literally, drowning, running out of air and energy. 

I’ve nearly drowned before, so feel free to take my word for it.

The push-and-pull of trying to be financially stable while following your dreams while seeking an opportunity while not getting an interview while sucking up your pride while staying true to yourself is (a mouthful) and detrimental to physical, emotional, and mental health.

We should do a survey, asking people aged 38+ (just a random number) if they are in the job/field of their dreams, or if they had to sacrifice their dreams in order to live a stable adult life.

I think the results would be horrifying.

So yes, here I am complaining again about my career struggles, trying to stay afloat amidst wave after wave of disappointment.

Sometimes I wish someone would read my writing, look me in the eye and say “Wow. And you went to school for this? You’ve been published? God, you’re shit, please stop.” 

Crazy, right? But that way, I can finally surrender and seek out another venue to live my life.

Realizing I have writing talent (however small that talent may be) was both the greatest and worst thing to ever happen to me.

I could really use a life-jacket right now.


This summer seems familiar.

By familiar I mean it has all the familiar symptoms of a summer where you just gotta put your head down and work for what you want. In the name of achieving and knocking your goals out the park.

I know summertime usually means downtime, but I think I’m going to go ahead and say that won’t be the case for me.

This summer will be one where I work so hard that every summer going forward will be a summer of leisure.

(Did I just use summer three times in one sentence? All this work is getting to me.)

Well yeah.

Push forward.