Oh look! Another blog. "Aren't you an entertaining one?" She asked sarcastically.
Everyone knows the sting of rejection, right? Right. It's not a friendly one. Rejection is no Sour Patch Kid of emotion, kicking you in the shin before hugging you tightly. No. It is more the Warhead of the candy world, making you cry up until that very last moment, after which you are left with a confused, empty feeling in your mouth where something is missing, but you don't know why you miss it.
A person could be rejected for many reasons. They could be rejected because a better candidate is found. This is not a comfortable rejection, but it is a rejection out of your control. Perhaps it is personal preference, perhaps that person worked harder than you. It's hard to tell. A person could be rejected on something as idiotic as their appearance or the color of their skin. This never has any standings (unless, of course, you need a person to fit into a specific dress and the one person who applied cannot possibly fit into the dress. Magic is not a viable solution.) Thirdly, and most uncomfortable of all in my opinion, a person could be rejected because of their personality.
This one is a sticky subject, because it has two faces. A person could be rejected because of their ACTUAL personality, or because of their PERCEIVED personality. (Let the record show that on first attempt I misspelled PERCEIVED. I before E rule.....I hate you.) These situations are both equally frustrating. On the one hand, a person's personality is their personality. Sometimes they can't change it, and other times if they could change it, they won't. A personality is a person's stuff. It's what makes them them, what differentiates them, what identifies them, what defines them. It's part of how you describe someone. "Oh, he's funny." "Oh she's a raging bitch face who hates everyone." "Oh, he is an absolute pussy that never follows through with anything." That's who that person is.
Or is it? Perhaps none of those attributes I gave those people are true. BUT I THINK THEY ARE. How easy would it be to change my mind? How easy would it be for me to change my perception of that person? Not very. That's how. If I think they're a bitch, no matter how much un-bitchy stuff they do, I'm going to think they did it for a bitchy reason. "Oh, she gave me a candy bar! She must want me to get fat." "Oh, she said something nice about me! I know there's a catch."
You know who would never judge you based on some sort of perceived judgment that they may or may not have made upon you? Onion Sam. Onion Sam is a God among men, considerate and kind, offering to fix whatever problems ail the world, or specifically, Miss Kate. Would that I were Miss Kate. But robbed of my Onion Sam, I would've resorted to such a life of crime as she did, ensuring that each and every person who ever discriminated upon my dearest Sam or I (Oh, that means you. You know who you are) paid most dearly and equally. But I digress.
All of this sounds like petty shit that I'm making up because I have some metaphorical bone to pick with he who shall not be named (NOTE: This is not the same person as He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.) Perhaps. But you know that you do it too. I'm not alone, am I?
Quizas soy. I'm being irrational. I'm using woman's logic. I'm exaggerating. Put me into whatever box you would like. But, am I really being irrational? If you've already decided I'm irrational, and I make a rational argument, are you going to concede to me? Or are you just going to blow off my argument as irrational because you KNOW I'm being irrational? Isn't that putting the cart before the horse? Aren't you purchasing that house with that McDonald's Monopoly money you won before you cashed that paycheck which you used to buy that McDouble which you THINK has that ever important Park Place sticky square you so desire?
At this point, I'm nigh inconsolable. Only the sweet nothings whispered in my ear by a romanticized mule-owning onion-growing archetype will repair me.
"I can fix that."
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