1. If I decide to be a stripper instead, I’ll be allocated to the daytime shift. Since I have small boobs and a C-section scar, I won’t qualify for primetime. I’ll have to work during the lunch buffet, while business men gorge on all-you-can eat roast beef. Not only will I suffer the humiliation of being a stripper, I’ll have to deal with men who patronize strip clubs during the day.
2. Every time I consider quitting, encouraging words come through from an industry professional. It’s a strange phenomenon.
3. I’ve been at this almost six years without turning a profit. Some folks might see this as a reason to stop, but it just makes me want to dig my heels in. I have to be on the verge of a financial break-through, right? Such a massive time investment requires a few more years anyway.
4. I’m fairly certain I lost a Facebook friend over my Taylor Swift blog post. That’s the most amusing thing that’s happened to me in the last six months. It also means my writing affected someone on a visceral level, even if it was a bullshit blog post.
5. I’m too old to become a ballerina. I think. Maybe I’m not. I should really check into that. If I’m not too old, then I’m out of here.