Sorry that I haven't written in a while.

I'm still basking in the glow of receiving an e-mail from a 2005 PULITZER PRIZE WINNER!!!!

Yeah, Connie Schultz and I, we've become thisclose.

WHADOYOUMEAN has she replied to my e-mail yet? Let's not get bogged down by such technicalities, okay? I'm sure we, this blog and I, have been dominating her mind ever since last Saturday.

Besides, I'm sure she's busy.

Walking her dog.

Or giving a speech.

Or writing a column.

Or spending the $10,000 Pulitzer Prize money.

Or out of town.

Or... something.

I'm sure many of you would advise me to stop waiting by the computer, my knuckles white from grasping onto the mouse and clicking on 'Refresh' every five seconds to see if I have a new e-mail. From her.

Some of you might even suggest that I should concentrate on my own writing instead, so that I can maybe win my own Pulitzer Prize one day. Only problem with that suggestion is that, in order to win... or even be ELIGIBLE for a Pulitzer Prize, one actually has to have some talent, you see. And a paying job as a reporter. Or one has to be a published author. Which will require one to be an American citizen. Or at least be a holder of a precious Green Card. And well, we all know that I sadly lack possession of any and all of the above.

You know, all of this has made me think (remarkable that!) about my job prospects and about what to do with my life.

Should I worry that I'm already 30 and don't have it together yet? (Don't bother replying unless your answer is going to be a resounding and reassuring "No, of COURSE you don't have to worry, Red.") I mean, I love the Grandma Moses success story as much as anyone, and although I am quite patient, I really don't want to have to wait quite THAT long to find my destiny.

I can't sell myself. So even if I had wanted to be one (and just so we're clear, I don't), that means even the world's oldest profession is out of the question. I also don't have stamina.

I've always fancied myself to be a bit of a slasher. You know, a slasher? Like so many rich Hollywood types who describe themselves as actors SLASH directors SLASH writers... (But many of them have the wealth and Academy Awards to back up their slasher claims.)

Although, sadly, my type of slashing is probably more similar to those street hustlers you meet who, if you'd ask them what they do for a living (merely to make conversation and NOT to insinuate anything while you fumble for the small change they've just begged from you) would tell you something like: "I guess you can say I'm a musician SLASH beat poet SLASH dancer."

Not to bash those latter types of slashers, but they're just the types that your mom has always warned you about.

And I don't want to be that person your mom has always warned you about.

So, dear readers, what do YOU think I should do for a living?

P.S. And, once you've told me what I should do for a living, I'll use her brilliant cover letter to apply for whatever job it is.