Today I received a
formal rejection and was more upset about the actual feeling of rejection,
versus the loss of opportunity, and was planning on potentially rescinding the offer. However,
while on the phone, I found myself surprised when I wanted to scream back
"You can't dump me, I was gonna dump YOU!" I went through cycles of emotions of relief to
frustration to discouragement to sadness to just wanting candy.
versus the loss of opportunity, and was planning on potentially rescinding the offer. However,
while on the phone, I found myself surprised when I wanted to scream back
"You can't dump me, I was gonna dump YOU!" I went through cycles of emotions of relief to
frustration to discouragement to sadness to just wanting candy.
Fast forward to the end
of the day whenI decided to the only way to wash away my
sadness was a box of raisinets, because,
guys, chocolate covered raisins will never
reject you.
Also, I have fond memories of reading the
California raisins book as a child and once
I checked out "California Raisins-a-
haunting we will go" because it was a
Venn-diagram of all the things I love: raisins
and ghost stories. I "lost" the book, but I still
swear that Jon-Eric/JonEric (however you
spell a name with two first names) stole it, and
I had to pay so many late fees I ended up
having to buy it! And I had the shame of being
the only kid who couldn't keep her shit together
long enough to return a book in a week,
thanks JON-ERIC/JONERIC!
Anyways, I decided my
sadness couldn't wait until I got home and since I have no pride left, I opened
up my
box on the corner (it was shrink wrapped, so let that image sink on in) and I just began shoveling candy in
my face hole. I walked rather quickly to the train station, either re-charged by sugar or embarrassed that I
can't wait until I get home to pour food into my mouth, waited for the train, ascended said train, and found
there were no seats.
So here I am, awkwardly looping my arm around one pole while pouring chocolate raisins into my hand
over a stranger's head. After a few short, quick jolts, I realize how dangerous this is. At least if I'm at
home in my sweatpants, I have a net to catch any fallen raisins and I'm over here just footloose and
rasin-free about to drop one on some strangers lap. Then what do I say? "Sorry I dropped candy on
your kindle. It's been a rough day." Even at this sad, sad point in the day, I have too much pride for that.
box on the corner (it was shrink wrapped, so let that image sink on in) and I just began shoveling candy in
my face hole. I walked rather quickly to the train station, either re-charged by sugar or embarrassed that I
can't wait until I get home to pour food into my mouth, waited for the train, ascended said train, and found
there were no seats.
So here I am, awkwardly looping my arm around one pole while pouring chocolate raisins into my hand
over a stranger's head. After a few short, quick jolts, I realize how dangerous this is. At least if I'm at
home in my sweatpants, I have a net to catch any fallen raisins and I'm over here just footloose and
rasin-free about to drop one on some strangers lap. Then what do I say? "Sorry I dropped candy on
your kindle. It's been a rough day." Even at this sad, sad point in the day, I have too much pride for that.
I arrive at my stop, and
that's when it hits me. I trudge home, thinking of what a loser I am and
then
before I know it, I'm BLUBBERING, like can't catch-my-breath, Rachel-McAdams-choosing-between-
James-Marsden-and-Ryan-Gosling, Jewel-stopped-carrying-sausage-pizza-rolls- crying. I feel like most
of this comes from the fact that I only cry about four times a year and twice is when I cut onions, the other
times are situations like this. So naturally I start playing a mental montage of the saddest things that have
happened since my last cry so I can cry harder: you worked out 5 days last week and you gained weight,
you owe more on your student loans than you did when you graduated because of interest, Herschel's
death… you get the picture. The saddest part is the next day when I realize what an emotionless
bot I am the other 361 days of the year because my face is sore! From crying! Is that normal? I'll Google it...
before I know it, I'm BLUBBERING, like can't catch-my-breath, Rachel-McAdams-choosing-between-
James-Marsden-and-Ryan-Gosling, Jewel-stopped-carrying-sausage-pizza-rolls- crying. I feel like most
of this comes from the fact that I only cry about four times a year and twice is when I cut onions, the other
times are situations like this. So naturally I start playing a mental montage of the saddest things that have
happened since my last cry so I can cry harder: you worked out 5 days last week and you gained weight,
you owe more on your student loans than you did when you graduated because of interest, Herschel's
death… you get the picture. The saddest part is the next day when I realize what an emotionless
bot I am the other 361 days of the year because my face is sore! From crying! Is that normal? I'll Google it...
Some of my favorite things
Then I had wine and
then a snack
pack so the moral of the story is
guys:
1. Raisinets are delicious
2. Don't eat them on a train
3. If you're going to cry so hard,
you pop a blood vessel, do it in public.
pack so the moral of the story is
guys:
1. Raisinets are delicious
2. Don't eat them on a train
3. If you're going to cry so hard,
you pop a blood vessel, do it in public.
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