February 23, 2010

Here's McLovin, a 25 year-old Hawaiian organ donor.

Lay down your pitchforks. I'm not moving to Iowa. Effing place rejected me. I knew I hated them for beating Penn State, plus who wants yellow as a school color? Only the worst schools have that.. cough...Michigan.. cough, cough, cough. I go back and forth between knowing I won't get accepted anywhere since it's so competitive and similar to winning the lottery, then feeling like I'm cocky for even applying, followed by a rush of wind and a shatter which is my dreams being crushed. Some days I forget why I applied in the first place, since the thought didn't cross my mind until a year ago, then I read a book and rationalize that I could never write with such attention and dedication, while being clever and fresh. Most days I'm just anxious, clutching my phone and staring at my inbox. If one more person tells me not to worry, I'll get accepted, I'm great enough, I will stab them with a proverbial pen, I swear to G. I should get used to rejection though, since all published people could paper their kitchen with rejection letters. I was just thinking it could be my ticket out of here (here = this career, routine, petty drama). Maybe my goals are too modest, and I should've moved to Europe after graduation to escape all things mediocre and predictable, but I guess in the end, that's a cliche too.

Today I may or may not have seen Mclovin, enjoying a pink cosmo at Heartland Brewery in Union Square. He looked a little older than I think the real Christopher Mintz-Platypus (whatever) is.

Then I bought myself a birthday present, because I was highly anxious after almost crying in a restaurant due to either empathy or anger or utter frustration at life. The glass of wine encouraged me, and the birthday discount from Anthropologie didn't hurt. I would like to work there. Anyway, I have a new mug that looks like a peasant painted it and a headband that cost more than a steak dinner. But you know what? I'm only 25 on the 25th once, and I'm not going to be in Vegas as I always dreamed I would be at midnight in 26 hours. So I don't care. At all. Ugh. I should move to Hawaii. I'm already an organ donor and now I'll be 25 too. Perfect.

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