Failure's Price Tag

Me and my bloody ideas; there is a certain recalcitrance toward the article which has nothing to do with the editor, nor the publication. I wanted to do a good job and tossed 500 words out like a two penny hack. I did not expect the editor to accept the draft as it was, I just wanted to find my direction, where I was going, and at the moment I have lost my way, quite frankly, and need examples if not more sources. There is a resident here in the building who would be perfect to utilize, but my problem with this is two fold: she flipped on me roughly a year ago for observing her need for a hearing aid, and I do not want to use the other tenants for my work. I may want to vacate this building more than life itself, but do not need the grief of troubling my neighbors. No State of Play with Russell Crowe investigating conspiracy fabrications in the remainder of my life experience. On the basis of a first viewing, this was a very convoluted movie which possibly deflates the liberal paranoia over the power of corporate conspiracy.

Even when I was healthier, and had my job, my social events were a party at Rick's home, the executive director at Matrix, and some six years later, that kitsch picnic Liberty held at their old location, where AccessLife hired me and Linda yanked my chain. Forget about happy. Pleasurable events? The joy of good company? Do I have any reserves left for the joy of any future experience?

And people just want to put labels on me and tell me to get fixed.