I'm literally, locally, famous

LOL. ~laughing~ There were a few people calling me a celeb today. I did get an interview yesterday at the festival, but I wasn't expecting front page. I also laughed to myself at some belittlement: "Yes, aren't I Little Miss Popular?" I am officially center of attention: real name, real picture. I have to admit, there is a new pressure there with how I am in the spotlight. Too bad this festival had to end early because of the rain, but there were only a couple of hours left by the time it rained.
I'm definitely planning on working some overtime with my crafts for another festival in a couple of weeks. I wish I would have spent more time in getting ready for more winter accessories, but these past couple of weeks have been so exhausting for me.

Burmuda/Australia fame? Nothing really exciting or new. I think people have connected me to Gaga before, and this recent sexual exploit today is a yawn and an unfair and desperate exploit. How dare I be naked in my own bedroom? How dare I? Goodness to heavens, where will I ever be able to get dressed? How dare I ever be naked?

I'm not really clicking on a lot of news. There are some periods of time where I just don't care to know or want to know some things. When I view the media and make my own personal observations of gossip that is either about myself or someone else, I do it at my leisure. Lately, I'm just exhausted and thinking of other things.

Some good news is that I had one interview and another lined up. There is no guarantee, but chances are looking good that I may just get a job. I really can't stand another bubble of hope burst over unemployment anymore. I just can't take it.
I could talk all day about the pains of being poor. My mom has been such a pain lately over the issue. As angry and frustrated as I get myself, I refuse to be a sexual harasser like other people. (And for so many that have their mind in the gutter, just frustrated. Not sexually frustrated. I still want to vomit over how many sick perverts exist in this world).

Nonetheless, I am a supermodel


(I know it is blurry and dark, but as a poor model, I can't afford a professional photographer).
I simply bitch at the way she is. She gets to take a complete week's vacation. I havn't been on vacation in the last couple of years. She has a fit every single time I ask for money even if it is as little as 10 or 15 bucks. She bitches all the time about me getting a job, forgetting how active I've been in trying to find one. She acts as if I purposefully want to be her bumb and as if I don't even want to have a job. Just because I won't tolerate some people doesn't mean that I don't want a job. I won't even tolerate my family with some things they do or say. They'll probably test anyway and B.S. and ignorantly talk about me to their own satisfaction. I am painfully poor. Painfully poor. I'm not asking for family counseling either. I'm just wanting a job and enough of an income to get out of here.