Dejected rejection

I'm not qualified for anything.

In the last year or so, I've sent out hundreds of applications for various writing/editing/media/PR positions across Massachusetts (and in some instances, in New Hampshire and Connecticut, too!) and all I ever get by way of response is a rejection... and that's if I'm lucky enough to get a response at all.

Am I missing something, here?

I've spent the better part of the last decade of my life writing. Between college essays, the school newspaper, my internship and now my full-time job, I have spent the bulk of my day - every day - with my fingers rapidly clicking keys on my keyboard. Even here, when I'm not writing for work I'm (sporadically) writing...just to write. (Needless to say, I have a pretty impressive WPM rate, but that's beside the point.) So why is it so hard for me to find something to do for a living where I can be adequately compensated for my efforts and actually enjoy what I do?

Out of the countless applications I've mailed in the last year or so, I've had one interview...ONE! During that interview, the woman I spoke to told me she'd call me in a day or so to let me know if I'd gotten the job and I never heard from her again. I can accept that perhaps I wasn't qualified for that position, but I can't accept that she couldn't bother to tell me to my face. Hell, I'd have accepted a form letter indicating I wasn't the right candidate for the job, blah blah blah, but instead I got nothing.

Since then, I've been more bold in my applications. If I'm going to be rejected for the positions I know for a fact that I actually possess the qualifications for, I might as well apply for the jobs I'd love to have, despite the fact that I lack the necessary skills for them. Case in point: I applied to Harvard a few months ago. No, not as a student; as an editor for Harvard University Press. Come to think of it, I never did get an acknowledgment from them either way (Yay? Nay?) but I don't care because I didn't much believe I'd get the position anyway. I just wanted to be able to say "Why yes, I've applied to Harvard." Haha. At least my sense of humor is still intact.

These rejections and the last year of my life are made all the more frustrating when you consider that this (apparently) is one of the reasons why Doc and I broke up. He believed I wasn't motivated enough to find a new career path. I believed that if I was rejected one more time, I'd have no choice but to throw myself off a cliff. Clearly I'm a lot stronger than I gave myself credit for because the demise of my relationship was, in fact, yet another rejection, but here I am... sure I'm still dangling precariously close to the edge, but I'm here nonetheless.

I'm trying to remain optimistic about my future but these days I find pessimism is my initial knee-jerk reaction to everything. What's the sense in trying when it feels like I'm only setting myself up to fail?

Will someone please pull me away from the edge or do us all a favor and push me over it?

Tornado woes

My heart is broken.

Today, a tornado struck my town. Picturesque Monson, Mass., the sort of quaint, small town that reminds you of a Norman Rockwell painting, was pummeled by a storm this afternoon that all but leveled the downtown area. Luckily my house -- located on the outskirts of town on the border of Palmer -- was spared, but Main Street, just a few miles away, was destroyed. First Church of Monson, located at the intersection of Main and High streets as you head into downtown, was hit. Tomorrow would have been the seven-month anniversary of the fire at the church in November. Back then, we'd considered ourselves lucky that the church had been spared thanks to the local fire department. Now look at it.

Walking along the streets today, though, I found it hard to stay composed. The steeple that housed the stately clock that I was forever checking to see if I was late, was strewn across the front lawn, a gaping hole in the side of the building where it used to be.

In the parking lot of the library was a silver SUV larger than mine that had every single window blown out. Across the street, a maroon Toyota sedan was on its side, pressed up against a tree. Beyond that car, in the direction of State Street and Bethany Road, all you could see was destruction. A semblance of what once was. I wasn't able to make my way down Main Street -- there were electrical wires down and what looked like small fires in addition to the trees that were toppled over -- but from my vantage point in front of the library looking down, it didn't look like there was much to salvage.

Since arriving back home and watching reports of the tornado on the news, I've come to accept that we're now "that town;" the one that everyone looks on with sympathy and thoughts of "thank God that isn't me." My house may not have been affected but this is my town; this is me.

All I can think of right now is that I want to go to bed. I want to fall asleep and forget this happened, even if only for a few hours. Tomorrow, we'll begin the process of cleaning up and starting over. But for right now, I want to be blissfully ignorant; to live in a world where Mother Nature didn't just unleash her fury on us.

Perhaps all that talk about the world ending wasn't so far-fetched after all?

Looking to the stars

I try not to put too much stock in horoscopes. I'm not sure if I buy into the belief that "that the sun's apparent position relative to arbitrarily defined constellations at the time of your birth somehow affects your personality," as is so eloquently stated in the Big Bang Theory pilot episode. However, sometimes I am flabbergasted that, when reading my daily horoscope or the personality description of those whose births fall under my astrological sign, I find it is absolutely, 100 percent accurate. And then I wonder....

According to my astrological sign, Cancer, I am an emotional person: overly sensitive and moody. Well that right there sums me up in what, four words? Let's take it a step further and elaborate a little bit more, shall we? Because I'm bored at work and rather curious about Zodiac signs these days, I Googled the Cancer sign to see what came up. Included with the ridiculously long-winded description (that I'm too lazy at this point to hash out) were these key words, which supposedly describe my sign: gentle, conservative, feeling, nurturing, defensive, contemplative. I do possess those characteristics, and that right there makes me wonder if I shouldn't take with a grain of salt what I read as my horoscope each day.

Last week, I downloaded a horoscope App for my phone not because I wanted to refer to it incessantly and live my life based on what was proposed as a horoscope for me, but because I was bored and thought it might be interesting to check out. This week, I've looked it almost immediately after getting out of bed in the morning. Every. Single. Day. There are a few key phrases and sentences that I've seen used in the last week that (believe it or not!) actually do pertain to my life and what has been going on lately.

Yesterday, for example, my horoscope read (in part): Someone in your world is telling you a story you want to believe. This person may or may not be misleading you intentionally, but yet you are being misled..." It reminded me a little bit about the doubts I've had raised in my head (not to mention my heart) about Doc in the last month.

So this morning, I eagerly checked what was in store for me for today:

Since you are reading this horoscope, the world did not end on May 21. Did you believe that the end was near? Did you fear that a devastating earthquake would shake the earth to its core? If so, you must be pretty relieved. If not, then you may be wondering what all the fuss was about. The answer, dear crab, is that human beings need drama. We need to believe that there is a purpose for being here - and for some it translates to a beginning and an end, and a judgment. But if you live in the present, you have everything. Don't miss a special moment because of regrets from the past or fears of the future.

I am particularly stuck on the last few sentences, mostly because I find it difficult to do that, however much I might want to. Lately, though, I have been trying to take life one day at a time. I have a very zen, "it is what it is" philosophy about life these days and have been going through my life operating under the assumption that something good is destined for me and that I should enjoy each day as it comes until I finally get to where I need to be. Try as I might, though, I can't help but relapse into my old ways: stressing about what tomorrow will bring, worrying about things that I did or said yesterday and wondering how it will affect my life tomorrow.

Much of this, I know, is a sign of insecurity. I can't explain why I often feel the way I do -- like why do I feel massive panic attacks over things that are far beyond my control? -- when I know with absolute certainty that I shouldn't.

Maybe I'll get lucky and tomorrow's horoscope will tell me?

It is what it is...

These last few weeks have brought with them a number of changes in my life. Some good, some bad, but all for the best... I hope.

There are a handful of people who know what has happened, and a handful more who are astute enough to have gleaned the truth from my always super-cryptic Facebook postings, but I haven't really felt like I need to announce it to the world just yet. I don't need to beat others over the head with my personal struggles.  I've taken the "it is what it is" approach to handling my emotions lately and I feel much better for it. I don't have control over everything that happens in my life and I have to have faith that God has a plan for me and if I enjoy my life and what I have, ultimately, I'll find the path that will lead me to where I'm supposed to be. That doesn't mean I'm 100 percent OK, though. Whenever people ask me how I'm doing, I say "fine," because I am, but I do have my moments. Last night was one of them. Sitting along in my super-small (read: cozy) living room with a book (because my TV is on the fritz again!!!), I couldn't help but feel a bit of sadness over the events of the last few weeks. I feel I'm entitled to these moments since, after all, I am getting out of bed every morning. I am well aware that I can't just erase the last year of my life, but learning to adjust to life on my own is a bit more daunting than I had expected. I like my personal space and I like knowing I can be independent, but I still want someone to share my experiences with, and I think that's what I'm struggling with the most.

Despite these changes and my previous rants about my resistance to change, I still find myself on a search for... something more. I have this unwavering faith that if I just believe, good things will come my way. I wake up each morning with a renewed sense of purpose, convinced I am on the road to greatness. What greatness that is, I'm still not sure yet, but I like to be positive. I keep hoping that my tenacity will pay off; that my words will speak for themselves; and that someone, somewhere, will notice that I'm wasting my time here and scoop me up to better use my skills elsewhere.

Someday.

Lucky dog

I've been reading a lot lately about dogs in crisis, from Patrick — the "miracle" pit bull who was starved and tossed in the trash like garbage but survived — to Wonder, one of the many fortunate dogs featured on Lucky Dog Rescue Blog. With each story and photo I see, I become more and more determined to aid in the prevention of animal cruelty.

Last year, after a tumultuous breakup with my boyfriend at the time, I was forced to give up my beautiful chocolate Labrador, Guinness, because I couldn't afford a place to live with him. At the time, it was the hardest decision I ever made and I still feel its repercussions today. Every day. But given I know he's now living in a happy, loving home, I am okay with my decision to give him away. Still, I can't help but feel that despite our end, Guinness was brought into my life for a reason. He gave me a purpose that I still feel even today, without him. He showed me what it means to love a dog.

Although I may not be able to take on a dog of my own, or even foster one looking for his or her forever home, I can still help them in some way. Last year, I started volunteering at a local animal shelter and I've written newspaper columns about my adventures with different animals to spread the word about animal welfare and well-being. It's small, but I'd like to think it helps bring awareness to the cause.

At my office, I have no fewer than 10 photos of my pets adorning the walls and my desk. Nine of those are of Guinness and my boyfriend's French bulldog, Frenchy, the other is of my first cat, Sylvester. Each photo tells its own story. I picked each one because of the emotions they evoked, from myself and my friends. I want to smile and cry at the same time just looking at them, by sheer virtue of the fact that they're so cute.

How can anyone not love animals...or at the very least tolerate them enough not to torture and abuse them? It astounds me that people hurt animals. Violence against each other isn't acceptable, but we have the capacity to defend ourselves from abuse in some way, whether physically or verbally. We have the option of attempting escape or calling for help. Animals don't have that luxury; they can't even tell us when or where they're hurt. If they're tied up and starved, they're dying a slow, painful death, and they can't cry out for help. 

I tell my boyfriend my sole goal in life is to buy a house with a nice yard so I can adopt a dog (or two, or four!). Then, at least then I can make sure that one lucky dog will have the life he deserves: a life of love and comfort.

I applaud those people who devote their lives to helping animals. It's a noble cause... maybe one day, I can be a part of it.

Questions

I’ve never been the type of person to accept complacency. While I tend to be (more or less) resistant to change, I like to be one step ahead of the game and in charge of my life, my future.

However, these days, I feel I’ve become complacent and I don’t know what to do about that. I came to my job almost five years ago (after one year working for the company as an intern) intent on staying just one year as a full-time reporter, “for the experience.” Today, I’ve worked my way up the proverbial ladder from intern to reporter to assistant editor to (finally!) editor, and yes I enjoy it, but I yearn for more.

I never wanted to come to Western Massachusetts because I always thought of it as too far from home…and it’s less than two hours away. Nevertheless, I’m starting to feel a desire to travel and see the world. To do something with myself.

The other day, I told Doc I wanted to visit San Francisco. He’s lived there. I’ve told him how badly I want to visit London (specifically) or England (in general). He’s lived there too. Once, I brought him to my favorite sushi restaurant with the promise that he’d taste the best sushi ever and he said “I’ve had better.” Where? I asked. “Japan.”

Almost everywhere in the world I wish to see, he’s seen. We’re the same age – he’s just 8 days younger than I – and yet he’s seen so much and done so much more than I have. I’ve settled for the life of a small-town newspaper editor in rural (suburban?) Massachusetts but I can’t say for certain that this is what I want.

I watch as he prepares for his future as a doctor – from the specialty he hopes to pursue to the hospital at which he’ll complete residency – and I wish that I could expand my horizons.

I’ve always dreamed of being a book author, but I still don’t believe I’m good enough to pursue that dream. I’d love to work for a bigger newspaper, but journalism is a dying industry and I’m probably better off where I am. I want to settle down and buy a house, but on my editor’s salary, that’s not likely to happen anytime soon. I want to hop on a plane to California to experience life on the west coast. Doc said out there, traffic is “a way of life” and that I’m not likely to enjoy it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to experience it just once.

How do I shake things up in my life? What should I do with myself? When will I figure out my ultimate goal? Should I even have one? These are the questions I struggle with daily.

I want so badly to have more than I do now, but am I risking all the good things in my current life? How do you know when you’ve had enough?

Running the gamut

My boyfriend likes to point out that men don't think like women. Every time I project my own feelings onto him he is sure to tell me that I can't assume things about his logic, as my way of thinking differs from his. Fair enough; I'll accept his premise. However, (in my defense) I'd like to point out that the opposite is true. Women think differently than men.

It's true, women are more emotional than men. Given our hormonal cycle, it's to be expected, correct? So why, then, do men become upset when women become (as they say) "irrational?" Being emotional and being irrational are two different things. I think of myself as the type of individual who thinks things through. I look at things from every angle and I tend to make decisions only after careful deliberation. Would an irrational person do that? Then again, I also have days where everything makes me cry, for no apparent reason, and usually by the end of those days, I'm a convulsing, hysterical mess. But I'm a woman and "all women are crazy" as my male friends say, so why are they always so surprised when the calm, composed woman falls to the wayside and the emotional, passionate one bursts forth?

If I have to put up with football every Sunday (complete with men yelling, drinking, belching, etc.) and do so graciously, why can't he put up with one or two days of me whimpering like a lost, lonely puppy? He's going to be a doctor, for God's sake... if he can't handle me, perhaps he should choose another profession, pronto!