There's nothing like having your heart broken to sink you deep into the sort of unfathomable depression from which one only emerges after doing some serious life reevaluation.
You get to thinking about what it's going to take to meet and then keep a girl of the caliber of the one who just sent you packing. You start to ask yourself, What do I have to offer? And at this point, your lowest of lows, the answer is always, "Not fuckin' much."
Thus I'm giving myself 6 months to get my life into the shape I want. I will lose 40 pounds; I will learn to dance (well), and learn to cook (well); and I will pursue literary agents in an effort to sell my book (still in progress) like there's no tomorrow. If, in six months, these things haven't been accomplished (or are not well underway), I'm jumping off the Queensborough bridge.
This blog is going to stand as a record of my efforts.