Long Shots

I weigh less than I have in ten years. What will God swoop down and reward me with? Not Spikey (below is my graphic from my birthday website and my only heavenly graphic). Nor Leif either. Nor a writing job, I have to apply for those.

It's the easiest of the three to achieve, though. That despite my freelance site changing its rating system so that clients see, rather than my perfect and pretty five star rating, my 79% "success rate". My 21% failure rate is based on absent feedback (clients who didn't bother to leave any, just like I fail to on Ebay). It isn’t negative feedback. I have no negative feedback, besides divorce.

A writing career is obviously a ridiculous survival choice. But my neural pathways are laid out so ass-backwards that long shots are typically my best bet. That's why I've worked as an actress, an artist and writer. I'm not even a good artist.

I am not laid out supernaturally, though. The laws of physics still apply. Those who are gone from me are gone. Why can't my weight loss bring back a Maltese?

Spike in Heaven.