Earl Grey and Incense smoke

More scuffing around the apartment with a cup of tea. Earl Grey. Hot.
I am frustrated. I do not get paid for what I do. I can't, I am on disability for my O.I. anything else I might make would be taken from me by the government.
So the book reviews I do for the free books. The wrestling reviews I do cause I love the company. The movies and general book reviews I do as a hobby.

The articles I do for the online women's magazine I do to try and get noticed by editors or publishers. So far, nothing.
I want a real job. I have been on disability now for 12 years and hate it. I'm stuck. And that is so not what a man wants to hear when he asks you what you do for a living. It's tough enough telling him about the Osteogenesis Imperfecta, so I usually just tell them I am a freelance writer. Which I am. Sort of.

I used to work in television when I was still fresh and in college. But that's long since behind me.
Scuff scuff scuff and I always seem to spill my tea or coffee on myself. I swear everything I own is covered in coffee stains. It's why I wear black most the time. All I can taste is incense smoke. Can't smell it, another side effect of the O.I. loss of smell, but damn it, I can taste the smoke.

It's weird, I have stopped dating. Well, stopped trying to date as I wasn't getting much of anything in the way of offers. Last summer was the busiest I have been date wise in 20 years. And now, nothing. It's the season. Men tend to disappear once we start heading into February.

There are nights like this that I miss Deacon. I shouldn't, as he destroyed my life, but he was the best sex I have ever had. No one before or after has ever measured up. Clear my throat again from the smoke. My shoulders are getting tight from the last few hours of being over this laptop having done another review for the wrestling blog. We've all heard the phrase starving artist, but seriously, how many ways can you make a package of ramen noodles?

Tonight I had mushroom flavoured with chopped onions and broccoli. Frozen broccoli.
I never thought I would be nearly 36 and having to live like I did when I was in college, on soup and ramen noodles.