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It’s not been a good day.

Actually, most of the day wasn’t great, but it wasn’t terrible either. Until BabyDaddy came in, bitching about the fact that he’s officially broke. I bit my tongue, wanting with all my heart to tell him that I’ve been fucking broke for months now. At least his money is steady money coming in, while I’m piss-anting around with gigs from and from a couple of referrals that I’ve gotten. I had to borrow money from my grandmother today just to make sure that Elizabeth’s daycare was paid for this week without (yet another) check bouncing.

I knew that if I had said anything, he would have thrown me quitting the Contract from Hell into my face, but he never really understood exactly how miserable I was there, even when I told him. Not the fact that I carried him for 2 years while he sat on his ass, and then another three months just at the beginning of this year.

Maybe I’ve made a mistake in moving to Atlanta at all. Of course, now, my mother and stepfather are prepping their house for sale down in St. Marys, so it’s not like I’ve really got that option anymore.

I’ve really tried to stay upbeat, at least in talking to others, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep it up.

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Na-Na-Nanowrimo Time

The first day of November has always been a world of extremes for me regarding writing, thanks to National Novel Writing Month, lovingly referred to