Eternal Mind of a Spotless Sunshine

I just received word that I have been rejected for a job. A job that would pay me a boatload of money, however, would not be worth the 3000 billable hours that would be required. A job that a friend of mine quit without having another one in the hopper (an anomaly in my field). A job that the company has not been able to keep filled for more than six months in five years. And this made me wonder if it feels worse to get rejected from something you really want, or something you wouldn't take even if offered to you.

For example, if a job that you really would love to have rejects you, then there is something understandable. After all, there are many qualified candidates in the world, some of whom are simply more talented or qualifed. If, however, the job is dog-shit-taster or something equally distasteful, and you're rejected from that, isn't that more demeaning?

Perhaps stated differently. You approach a woman in a bar. She is attractive, slightly buzzed, and dressed to the 8s (not to the 10s, but damn close). You approach her with your best anti-Mystery game and she shoots you down. "Good. Smart woman. I wouldn't take me home either, if I were her." But...if she is the city drunk slut, looks like she accepted the job as dog-shit-taster and hasn't rinsed her mouth out since work ended and SHE won't take you home, don't you feel all the worse?

This is the earliest I have ever written. It is still dark outside, and the only reason I am writing right now is to allow the cobwebs to fall away from my brain. That is because I have to go to work and have a "kick ass day." A "kick ass day" is either you kick ass, or you get your ass kicked. Since I am a professional writer, I figured a quick blog would assist to get the juices flowing. After all, if a singer practices scales, a baseball player hits fungos, and an actor does some method shit, then why don't more writers practice writing before jumping into the day? For that matter, why don't doctors play a quick game of "Operation" before they slice open a patient? If the fucker's red nose goes off, Dr. Slicem'n'dicem knows to stay out of the operating room on any given Wednesday and get his ass on the golf course. I guarantee the number of malpractice lawsuits would go down exponentially.

I wonder if the gossip industry warms up for the day by emailing friends about the prior night's dalliances of mutual acquaintances to other friends. In order for Gawker to publish its celebrity stalkings, does the editor email her girl Stacey (because I am sure they all have girls named Stacey) to tell her, "Guess who I saw, Rob, and he had a major cold sore!" before publishing, "Guess who I saw, Lindsay, and she had a major...."

I have decided to try this one more time. While my professional writing career is languishing in the mental reject pile at the back of my head, I've decided to give the Christian Slater of "Free Radio" spirit another shot. I just hope not to end up naked in the forest tied to the star quarterback. Oh wait, that was "Heathers."