And Bark at the Moon


I did not get the job.  I needed, wanted, and exerted myself to get it and I did not get it, Tarot notwithstanding.  The Star is not a card of immediacy.  The present becomes the future at variable rates, it seems, when it comes to satisfaction.

I also, in that very instant of the sucker punch of a drily written form letter that made it appear as if none of their applicants were good enough, received a notice from the part-time job as to the viability of the check I just deposited.  A note followed that said not to worry, it was being taken care of.  A note I have seen countless times before.  I have not, as of right now, responded.  Mostly as I was so shockingly dejected after not getting this job that would have freed me from this fight just to be paid and be able to use my off-time to clean or doodle or write rather than strategize and work a second job.

It’s true that no matter how long you court a pain and coo after it and brace for impact and release and surrender your heartbreak – when it comes, it finds your heart afresh.  I said it was fine if I didn’t have it.  I was wrong about that.

It sucks.  It sucks that when I hear this, immediately the knives, sharpened for weeks on the whetstone of frustration, turn inward.  I fucked something up, some little remark I thought was clever they found cloying, some statement did not reflect on me with strength but was pitiable, they in some way found me lacking.  And I should have known.  It sucks that I pop my head up to breathe and hope and everything pushes me back underwater.

I found out at lunch and then had a few hours to sit by myself at the shop and think about not crying and not panicking.  I thought about how I’d been just in that spot when I heard the news about my mom, news a thousand times worse, and I’d just had to swallow it.  It didn’t help this feel any better.  Honestly, the sudden Void I saw and felt, the agonies of this entire year collapsing like a star in front of me, it was terrible.  Just a coursing wrongness running through me and around me.  That the things I want are terminally out of reach.

I came home, sat on the couch, and cried while the kitten, in her knowing kitten way, came and sat on my lap and leaned on me – completely curious as to what such things as tears are.

And then, I watched a Neil Breen movie.  Then, I said I didn’t get the job to a few people.  Then I ate some dinner and thought about how it was possible that Neil Breen not only made one movie – he made at least four. And I laughed with my marvelous friends and as much as I wanted to cling to this, to my upset, it slipped away from me.

Just as easy as that.  It slipped away from me.

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