You Ain't Been Cookin' If You Ain't Been Burned.

I've never been bad at anything I've tried before in my life. I've never had to try. I've always been at the top without much effort.

But this new job is kicking my ass, and for less money.

I've never had a job I had to work at before. It's a little humiliating, but I think in a good way. I think I've been safe in my box for way too long, at least career-wise. In my personal life, man, I have always been on the edge, in a bad way most of the time. I'm still not sure if I've made a huge mistake in taking on this new thing. I'm trying not to freak out after only a week and a half. I mean, it's too soon to tell which way this thing is going. I have no background for what I'm doing, so panicking at this point would be a bit premature. Let's just take a breath, people, and see where this train is headed.

I was pretty much questioning my entire life Friday night when I finally got home from work about three hours later than I thought I would, and I was thinking that having someone there to be nice to me after a massively long week and an epic blow to my ego would be really nice. My neighbor was making dinner and it was such a nice day that she had her doors and windows open. I told her whatever she was making smelled awesome. Then I went inside and soaked in an Epsom salt and lavender bath and almost drowned myself by falling asleep in the tub. I finally got out like an hour and a half later and was just sitting down to watch Diane Sawyer talk to hookers, which makes me angry and sad and relieved that at least I haven't had to enter that field, when someone knocked on my door.

I suspiciously opened the door and my neighbor was standing there with a plate full of pulled pork in verde sauce. I was so overwhelmed, I barely got "thank you" out. I shut the door and turned around to get a fork. Then I burst into tears. I was so thankful that somehow, some way, the thing I wanted most - for someone to take care of me - found its unusual way to me. The Universe works in ways we least expect.

I told Stef that I either need to get a dog or another foreigner. Then Tara said she has a dog she loves and she still gets jealous of those with boyfriends. Damn. That's not what I want to hear.

What do you do when what you want isn't what you get?

You open the door to your neighbor who brings solace wrapped in a tortilla and you thank them, God, the cosmos, whatever who is making it possible for you to make it to the next moment. You get a good night's sleep, you drink box wine and watch Cheaters with someone who makes you laugh like a motherfuckin' bitch, you do laundry and you have an afternoon beer with someone who's happy in a way you wish you were and you people-watch at your favorite bar while you write notes on how to survive.

And even though you said it before to someone who doesn't deserve your notice, you remind yourself that all the great ones wrote in bars.