There are so many options right now, and I don't have the time or willpower to process them all. But, the facts remain: I'm broke, in debt (though much less than others I know), and worn out from my commute.
1) Continue living at my parents house and just deal with my commute (oh, did I mention I hydroplaned on the interstate last week during a particularly rainy morning?? And almost hit the car next to me?? As well as a near miss with the cement road divider??)
2) Rent and have absolutely no available $$$ for anything beside a roof over my head and gas. The real estate equivalent of driving down I-40 and tossing hundred dollar bills out of the driver's seat window.
3) Somehow beg my way into purchasing a condominium or teeny-tiny old house downtown so I can walk or take the trolley to work, hence saving money. (But how to get that pesky down payment and closing costs? And how to pass the credit check when my savings account is on a starvation diet? And how to convince the loan officer I AM over 18, and thereby able to sign a legal document??)
4) Forget the whole life-supporting job thing and jump into the business head first. Convince a SBA person to loan me enough to rent a commercial space with an apartment overhead so I can "open up shop" and collect printing supplies to work with while living in the same place. Zero commute. But living in danger of repossesion!
5) Shelve my beloved Ruby Red for a few more years, keep doing research and preparations while focusing on becoming a better and more recognized professional in the design field, and continue to write, in hopes of earning enough from an advance and royalties to get my business started. (Did I mention I have a dozen or so children's and young adult projects in the works? Betcha didn't know that! In fact, for a change of pace, I think I'll write my next post about THAT part of my life).
6) Bury my head in the sand. Or move to Venezuala and hide in the rainforest. Or take a vow of poverty. Or run into a handsome billionaire on the corner, "twist" my ankle and be carried to the nearest hospital, where, of course, we will fall in love, marry in the chapel, and immediately relocate to Bermuda, where he will buy me an entire letterpress print-shop with cases and cases of type and dingbats, gallons of brilliant inks, and truck loads of fine papers! When I am not smudging ink on my nose, he will find me snorkling among a school of bright blue fish.
Personally? I like the billionaire angle. Positively polictically incorrect, but a girl can dream!
I'm begging for advice here, fair readers. If you were me, which would you choose????