[disclaimer: don’t know how this will go… no promises on anything being conveyed in an understandable manner.]
Last night sucked.
I found out around 5:30pm [while making a preemptive coffee with friends/employers] that I did not get THE job. The job I could taste. The job… I was perfect for / had been dreaming about / in Portland [PORTLAND] / everyone told me they felt like I would get / where I would be a real, live Graphic Designer / that would make people proud / I deserved.
And last night, I had to move. It was the last day I had in my apartment and without knowing my future [assured i would be moving to oregon, though], I didn’t arrange a new place to inhabit. So, that meant lifting heavy thing and driving to the storage unit, lifting more heavy things, [in the biting cold, p.s.], then cleaning… and cleaning.
It sucked.
I couldn’t stop crying… like, at all. It was just too much. Not knowing what the hell I’m doing… knowing what I’m not doing.
Moving and cleaning finally finished and I decided it was really time to stop crying. My thoughts wouldn’t even be focused on sad things but my cheeks would still be oh, so wet. Stop. It’s time to stop crying. You’re fine.
I sat down with Evan at his apartment, finally ate a little something and we put on a movie. [eternal sunshine: duh.] I could feel the tears coming again… but I wouldn’t let them. I tried so hard to hold them in, keep quiet, be strong.
Evan finally noticed something and asked…
– Are you okay, Ray?
– [breaking] I just can’t stop being sad.
I was very surprised at how contorted my voice sounded… like an insanely awkward young child.
– It’s okay to be sad.
– It’s just not fair! [still like a child.]
– I know.
– I wanted it so bad.
– I know.
– You wanna know what I wear for a hat?
– ….Ummmm, what?
– A lentil.
……And then laughing ensued beyond constraint. Me: A snot-everywhere, funny smile kind of hopeful laugh. Evan: A relieved, surprised laugh.
We’ve been watching this:
Trying not to cry, I sound exactly like Marcel the Shell.
Thank goodness for ridiculousness and laughter and warmth and not taking yourself too seriously… I’m going to be okay.
[everything is going to be okay.]
wull hay. 
OK. I will write you a lengthy email in response to this post. But, first, a comment. THAT SUCKS! But, as one of my favorite writing teachers said, “The road to Parnassus is paved in rejection letters.” You are doing it, Rach. Really! I’ll give you a pep talk about your awesomeness in person (and give you a demoralizing rundown of the multitude of rejections I received from Dream Jobs before landing one that actually is what I want and didn’t know it). xo!
q: how do you make a kleenex dance?
a: put a little boogie in it!
(love you. you’ll be totes fine.)