I am scared shitless right now. I'm on the verge of doing things no woman in my family has ever done. I'm in the process of developing a little consulting firm for myself. Alot of work, but no wage slavery, no office politics, no pecking orders to try to jam myself into, no gossipy co-workers to worry about, no boss's ego to assuage...I'm also on the verge of completing an article that just may get published. In a real magazine. On glossy paper. Not a 'zine or a lit mag or the 'net. Real. with, possibly, money.

These are things I've always wanted. And there are immense amounts of butterflies in my stomach and a bulldozer full of fear over my head, waiting to pour down and crush me.

I am doing everything I can to sabotage myself, including *not* make the telephone calls I need to, *not* speak to the people I need to, *not* email the links I said I was going to....and yet I want to do everything I can to beat those odds that say a fancy eductaion for a working-class girl is a waste of time...that say a middle-aged woman coming out of nowhere with nothing isn't going to get all that far and should just go back to the job she used to be.

I think I seek permission from some class-conscious status quo that says I've gained enough to merit the success, and that I don't need more school or the perfect relationship or to be 125 lbs. to be considered a success.

Inside is this eternal struggle--the fight between the Forces of Darkness (certain failure) and the Champions of Light (possible success).

There is comfort in failure. I can sit back and say "yeah, I screwed up again. Couldn't get the damned thing done on time. Good intentions, but poor follow thru. You know me. Affable loser."

Progress Reports from school always said "Has ability but shows poor application and effort."

What was the point to succeeding if your only appreciable measure of worth, the only one understood by your family, was whether or not you had a grandchild?

It's not just beating the social class odds. It's beating the family Devil.