Which brings me to my greater point: what do I do? I make dick costumes for myself on Halloween (See previous post. Or don't. I'm ashamed). I'm in serious need of something to be proud of, folks. Sigh. Don't think that I'm completely wallowing in self-pity. I mean, I am, but a wonderful positive to this whole deflating ordeal was that within ten minutes of leaving the grocery store, I was buying fourteen sets of postage for the seven short stories I'd been meaning to submit to publications across the United States. Seven for the stories, seven for the victory/rejection SASEs. Four more were submitted electronically. I've been putting that off for months, but it took one moment of loser self-actualization to spur immediate action.
I feel better already. I'd rather fail than wonder if I could have succeeded. Know what I mean, Vern?
I'll get back to you.