Dallas seems like so long ago now. I’m blogging on an early Tuesday morning from the snug confines of my home in Panama City Beach. Isolated. Such fun.
I still haven’t found meaningful employment, which is taking its toll on my male bravado. I’m trying to stay active in the local political scene, but the powers that be are doing their very best to freeze me out.
David, my dear confidant, continues to preach the Gospels to me in an effort to snap my grip on depression. But even he is losing patience.
I figured, at the very least, I would get one job offer out of my run for State Representative. But so far nothing, notta, zippo. I continue to attend government meetings and my Twitter followers are rising, but still no paycheck.
Back in Dallas, where the economy is strong, I encountered many professional gay men my age who were enjoying life and their surroundings. They were empowered and had strong support groups.
I truly feel Panama City takes delight in my misfortune and struggles. If this is living out loud then so Be it.
I guess I’ll go down to the Soup Kitchen and Volunteer.
Slice of Good Ol Boy Life 
Ouch! I’ve been there, and it’s no fun. Wish I had more to offer, but most of the stuff people tell you at times like this is pretty much a pile of cliches and platitudes. Usually, it just makes you feel worse, if anything. The funny thing is, after it’s over, you find yourself thinking “I wish I’d done such-and-such while I had the time.” But while you’re in the midst of it, you don’t think about things like that.