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Nov 3, 2005

In case you haven't heard, I screwed up my internship application by waiting too long for a courtesy confirmation from one of my references. So of course the essay and the test and the high hopes have all gone swirling down the john and I'm feeling desolate. Bereaved, even. Being good at what you do isn't good enough anymore. Having unique skills is worse than useless if you don't abide by the strict rules of the ladder-climbers, because you find yourself perpetually at their mercy even though they have no idea what alchemy results in your job being done.

So now I'm mostly moping and wondering when I'm going to collapse into uncontrolled sobbing. I'm running up a writing deficit of godzillan proportions which has focused into a tight spiral of muscle pain just between my spine and my left shoulder blade. My self-image is running on empty, which has paradoxically made me ridiculously vain, and lack of sleep is making my glasses feel like they're ten sizes too small.

Why are you still reading this? I'm only writing it for therapeutic purposes. What's your excuse?

Miserymiserymiseryme. I'm turning into a depressing, greasy emo kid and I hate that. Have I really got nothing better to do?



Here. Here's something. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay is to be a movie. Some (very lonely) person in Hollywood has exceptional taste.
Nick ::: 12:41 PM ::: 0 comments

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