One of the things that brings me marginal hope in a week that can best be described as absolutely shitty is the fact that a former stripper wrote the screenplay for the movie Juno, which is supposed to be whip-smart and funny.
This gives me hope precisely because it feeds my fantasy that one day, I too, will be a recognized writer, despite my current crap career as a beleaguered, war-weary nurse. (I think strippers probably have slightly better working conditions than most nurses, to tell you the truth. Definitely more respect from the general public.)
My contract was unceremoniously canceled without warning on Wednesday morning (a day which, note, I was supposed to work). Now I'm out of a job for four weeks, and facing another extended period of more-than-usual worry about finances and housing.
It feels weird to be suddenly unemployed, and wondering if dog food is a good source of protein.
On the other hand, probably watching t.v. shows about spouses murdering their other halves is probably not going to cheer me up, either.
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