READ ME ... yeah, right. Right?

I'm sick of everyone else having on-line diaries. I want one too.

What is this all about? Maybe you should read the READ ME READ ME.

january 19, 1997:
Post Brand New Year's
Make Your Own Daily Fortune
As . You . Live

<rebeca> I sometimes feel like this generation is so artless.
<scooter> somewhere on earth something is happening. maybe not in california.

One year ago, I started this experiment in interactive autobiography.
What was I thinking?

cryna: If you want to make a statement, write it out.
Tank Girl: But what if all I have is this gun?

1 9 9 6 I N R E V I E W

The Good:

Finally quit being a lawyer, in pursuit of lifetime dream of freelance writing.

Got fucked over and learned from the experience.

Grew thicker skin and increased ability to deal with really bad people saying really bad things.

Some really fun writing assignments!


Took risks previously unthinkable.

Created and introduced to each other Brooke and Gwen.

Fucking slaved for my career. Damn that hurts so good.

The Bad:

Former dream becomes present nightmare.

Because of big mouth and unpopular opinions, pissed off and alienated people who might otherwise hire me or pay me.

Book proposal and children's book grow moldy on my hard drive, never sent.

Realized that working as a freelance writer is pretty much the same as working as a lawyer, task-wise.

Started to miss dearly the money I used to make.

Web Reviews.

Way New Depression!

The Ugly:

Learned that freelance writing is not a career.
It is a huge festering sore of infection, mucous, obsession and self-destruction with a few dazzling moments and much more despair, self-hate, insecurity and false hopes.

Work is a big party that I am not invited to.

Weekendless, summertime-less, timeless, exchangable days and nights sacrificed to the fucking tease of a muse.

Social life? Is that a new band?

Dirty laundry in every connotation of the term.

Scored much, won little.

Resolutions I will never keep:

Give up Bailey's. Never smoke again.

No more self indulgence. I mean it!

Stop fucking with people's minds, even though done so unintentionally.

Stop complaining.

Take to heart that pulling out my notebook and scribbling notes is not going to increase my likeability in social encounters.

"Tired" means I should sleep, not work more.


Enjoy more of this beautiful city I live in.

Stop comparing myself to other people.

Clean the apartment.

Leave the apartment.

Take better care of my health.

Smile more, talk less.

Present to myself.

Send out god forsaken book proposal already.

Focus on the positive.

Score less, win more.

Catch the ball when passed my way.

Stop working so obsessively on my home page.

. . . which is why it has been so long since an update.
I am going to decide on a new schedule, and maybe even a new format.
But as Scarlett O'Hara said best, ...
Omigoodness, I can't think about this now. I'll go crazy. I'll think about this tomorrow.

After all, tomorrow is another day.

Pssst! ... I have written a bit about my Big Sis, what I did on New Years', and where things are.

Go check it out.

Lucky Penny, Dude.

Drop OUT (MLK Day)
roolz still hot
wish upon a star





or, if you must, back to Rebecca's Revenge

Copyright 1996, 1997 Rebecca L. Eisenberg All rights Reserved.