2007-02-20
New and improved.
It feels a bit weird to do this here, but I feel like it needs to be done:
Has anybody heard from Argolam lately?
I know he doesn't update much, but usually there's an email or note from him every few weeks. The last I heard from him was missed phone call two months ago, and now I'm worried. Has anyone had contact with him?
Anyway, on to other things...
Valentine's Day was awful. Not because I didn't get the flowers or the singing telegrams or the creepy stuffed animals that dance and sing - that would actually make the day better - but because my grandmother died. She was very old, frail, and had wanted to die for years, but I loved her and she's gone.
Ironically, five years ago my grandfather (from the other side of my family) died on Valentine's Day. I guess my family hates that holiday so much, we would rather die than celebrate it.
Oh my, I'll be going to a special type of hell for that.
At work, a reporter position opened up and, on a whim, I applied for it. My intention was to show The Powers That Be that I'm interested in moving up, that I have motivation, but I assumed since I had no newspaper writing experience that my application would be passed over immediately.
Then the editors scheduled an interview.
Ok, I thought, I'll meet with them, give them my little song and dance, they'll realize I have potential but no experience whatsoever, and I'll get the polite email the next day.
Then they had me write up a local City Council meeting as a test of my writing abilites.
Now, at this point I really began to want the position. And I hate wanting anything because behind every desire is the shadow of disappointment. By the time I finally got to the point of writing the damn article I was so riddled with anxiety and doubt that, well, let's just say it was not good. It was very, very bad. Picture the Hindenberg going down in flames. Now picture someone taking a crap on it.
It's so depressing to get so close to the brass ring and realize that you over-reached. I know I shouldn't be, but I'm completely disappointed in myself. I'd throw myself off the roof of my apartment building, but I fear that my suicide letter would end up reading : "Words bad. Make brains hurt."
Oh, and I met this guy. I would normally go into detail, but he's a sneaky pants who has already found this blog, and I don't want to give him the satisfaction, because I'm just a pain like that.
corin82 at 9:40 p.m.