If you work really bloody hard, and ask the Universe for what you truly desire, and be a good person, and have talent, you’ll get what you want. I wish that were true. Also, I would very much like to pat a unicorn. I think their hair would be crazy soft.
If you work hard, be good and not suck at what you do, you give yourself the best fighting chance at getting what you want. And you get to not feel guilt when you fail. But sometimes the fickle finger of fate will fuck you. Its what you do next that separates the men from the boys. Or the women from the girls, but that just doesn’t have the same ring to it.
I worked very hard for a long time to get the broadcasting job I’ve dreamed of forever. I just found out I won’t get it. I’d love to tell you I took it well. I did not. I cried. At work. When I was told and again that day whenever anyone showed me kindness. And I am not a pretty cryer. Within about ten minutes, my eyes swell up so I can barely see, my face gets red and blotchy, a river of snot starts from my nose and I get a thumping headache which prevents me from coherent thought. It’s ugly. And I have very little control over it.
I felt like I’d been broken up with by someone who you instantly know, in the moment that they break it off, that you were never quite cool enough to be there anyway. And the gentleness with which it was done almost made it worse. I can’t hate them for the decision, I entirely get that it wasn’t personal, and there is nothing more or different I can do to change it. It’s like being a mobile phone accidentally put in the wash. No one meant to hurt you. But you’re fucked nonetheless.
Maybe I’m not reading the right blogs or talking to the right people, but I don’t hear much about what folk do in the time between getting knocked over, and getting back up again. It’s unpretty. And most of us hunker down while the storm passes. I get that. I usually do the same thing. Maybe I’ll regret my candour here. Time will tell. Is it a better measure of strength that you don’t ever let yourself get knocked over, that you get back up quickly, or that you’re strong when you get to your feet? I genuinely don’t know the answer.
I have many skills. I’m funny. I can teach. I understand the media, I can consult into large and small corporations, I can facilitate workshops and motivate people. I’m figuring out how to wrap neat bows around all of that, and what pieces of paper I might need. I’m also picking myself back up off the ground. It’s harder than I thought it would be. But it is happening.