Friday, February 06, 2004
I used to be terrible with rejection. Aftershocks always included crying, wailing, and gnashing of teeth followed by extreme amounts of chocolate and ice cream (they call it comfort food for a reason), vodka, and Manilow's "Mandy" on constant repeat. Now, in a time where rejection letters are the first contact I have with many employers, I'd like to think that I have learned to handle defeat in a much more mature, ladylike way. I'd like to announce that after many of months of practice I have practically eliminated the teary-eyed rants. This change was not without serious amounts of personal sacrifice and growth and I may have had to increase the intake of sugar and liquor, liquor injected chocolates and chocolate flavored liquor, but let us not fail to appreciate the steps I have taken towards a more adult, emotionally disabled me.
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