Death of a Salesman

Or a saleswoman, or what have you.

I will no longer be tempted by the siren call of the MLM. It’s not because I’m better than that. I don’t look down on people who do what they need to do to make ends meet. And a lot of lovely women I know are successful in their respective ventures. I love the idea behind selling something from home, but the reality is expensive and messy.

So I’ve made some good friends in the process and also saw some sides of people that are presently beyond comprehension. And I’ve decided that I need to apply some of the marketing concepts I’ve learned to the areas of my life that I’m passionate about.

I’ve also discovered some lovely, if overpriced, beauty tools. And I’ve learned to come out of my nutshell a little bit, which has been great as far as personal development. But when you’re not cut from the same cloth as others, you end up following a truly unique pattern.

Most girls are a classic pair of jeans and I am a onesie. To each her own.

So I am going to devote all my “spare” time to writing instead of attempting to do something that wasn’t meant for me. Too bad, so sad. MLMs are dead to me now.

So. Goals people. I’ve been crushing them or annihilating them through failure, there is no between. I need to work consistently on my essays or I’ll never get through the book. And I’m afraid short form is the only way I will ever write anything. I see friends writing and publishing books, and I think “holy crap. That could be you if you applied your regular work ethic to something you are passionate about.”

In other news, a cat scratch to the face is not the best way to wake up. It’s almost go time for Violet’s surgery (Friday is the day, people). I’m scared to death. Don’t tell my kid (who, incidentally, doesn’t read this blog). Her dad has school commitments in Utah but I will have other people there to support us emotionally.

So we’re not going to freak out and say, sleep only four hours a night. Because that wouldn’t be like us.

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