The thing is...although I didn't have huge expectations, I felt good about it, which from experience, I can tell you, means nothing. Hadn't been down this road in a long, long time...but I've traveled it many times.
I prepared; Lord, how I prepared. But there are always many variables. Just like the years I spent pursuing music and acting. Doesn't get any easier. Especially when you get older and more reluctant to dive into the pool, knowing how it feels to doggy paddle your way to the wall.
And it wasn't just because the day itself was fraught with a strange, unsettling feeling. It wasn't the rain, the God awful restaurant experience that followed, or the self doubt. But something made me come home and pull the covers over my head. Just like I did this morning.
Still, I don't understand. No comprendé. But after such things, you don't get answers. Not the real ones anyway. And truthfully, it was the sweetest rejection letter I'd ever received in many years of such notices. Writers are so much more compassionate than record executives. It was the JLo of "no's" after years of Simon Cowells.
Getting the news first thing on a Sunday morning wouldn't have been my choice. Maybe wait until Monday. Monday sucks anyway. But Sunday? My Sunday was over by 9am.
I don't understand. But it's just one setback. I'll keep on keeping on...listening to my inner voice...listening to my gut.
And I'll be funny next time instead of "poignant" or whatever I thought that was. I "do" funny better.
And I'm gonna stop checking my email first thing in the morning on weekends.
Stream of Consciousness Sunday at Jana's Thinking Place.
The topic this Sunday perfectly encapsulates how I felt first thing
this morning. "I don't understand."