I can’t take any more rejection. I’ve become weak over the past three years; my skin has thinned. I received word today that a job I really wanted was filled, and it wasn’t filled by me. I was contacted last week about a part-time job near my home that would have been really great, but I haven’t heard back from the guy since he said he would be in touch for an interview. I didn’t get selected to be in a music video that’s scheduled to be recorded in the area. Granted, I didn’t seriously expect to get selected, but because of all the other recent rejections, this isn’t helping matters. (And I only tried to get selected because of the band involved, not because I have any interest to be in music videos.) (And the band was looking for “average people,” so I thought I would give it a shot). I haven’t heard back from a non-profit organization regarding a job that I would be perfect for. Granted, I just sent in my application last night at 9pm, but they had all day today to look at it, and I was sure once they did, they would call me up and offer me the position. My husband calls me delusional, but he says it with love. I was at work in the office when I received the email about the job I applied for being filled, and it kicked me in the gut. I left a little early. I needed to come home, eat pizza, and lament my loser status to DS.

What’s more, my laugh lines are visible even when I’m not laughing. I don’t know if I’m more perplexed by their existence, or by my concern with their existence. I never thought such things would bother me, and I don’t know that I’m really “bothered” by them, but I do find myself sucking my lips inwards–pulling the skin around my mouth taut–in hopes of somehow ironing out a life time of smiling. Recently, I read a profile on Michelle Obama in the New Yorker. The reporter observed Michelle Obama did not smile easily…she did not “smile as a way to break the ice.” That’s what I do! I thought to myself. I smile to break ice. I smile for just about any reason under the sun, and I’m sure I come across like a smiling fool to a lot of people (I can’t help but think of the Pink Floyd line “fearlessly the idiot faced the crowd, smiling.”).  And now my skin shows the signs of too much smiling.  Ah, well.

On an up note: I’m really (really) digging the Anthony Burgess book. And I don’t have to commute to Boca for a while, which should have me singing from the rafters. I guess I’ll keep plugging away at the job applications. Something is bound to turn up sooner or later, right?

Soy un perdedor