Not sure what I am thinking, but I just applied for a job on Craig’s List in the not-for-profit sector.

It spoke to me, perhaps the same way an abusive boyfriend convinces you again and again that he does love you and you do belong together.

BUT, and it’s a big but (kind of like mine (cheap, sad joke)), it’s for someone to write proposals and grants, not manage them. And, lord fucking knows I want to write and get paid in some capacity for it. Lord also knows, that I could have written the shit out of some of the grants I helped submit in the past, but it was not my “place” in the genius factories of academia. God, fucking, forbid an M.D. or Ph.D. admit that my skill was greater than her own.

It’s also a part-time position that pays better than most. If I could get a part-time gig that pays comparable per hour to what I had made per hour at my old job, life would be fucking fine. I want enough money to survive, but almost as importantly I want TIME. Time and a room with a view to write, or some such bullshit about which I am badly abusing the memory of Virginia Wolfe.