Colour Me Blue

I didn't get the job. I'm trying to digest why still. It was a weird call. Not surprising, as each encounter was pretty odd. I got the message on the phone first thing this morning. I must have slept through the ring, and having heard the message, I'm glad I did.

In the same breathe, she said I didn't have the job, despite having a skill set she would kill for, because I don't look "healthy" enough for the front desk of their clinic, considering they're selling healthy lifestyles. Understandable, to a point. Discrimination, damn right it is. I'm not one of those people who thinks discrimination is never right. I'm a photographer, I see the world in black and white and shades of grey, and this is one of those in-between issues that's damnable but understandable.

I don't begrudge her. I'm bitter. I wanted that job. Client care and marketing. That was actually when I most enjoyed the job I'm presently working, when I was doing both. Life got hard and the job got harder, so I was put on "easier" tasks. In hindsight, I wish I hadn't been. I was good at it. There's a lot to be said for working through shit, y'know.

Sigh. I wanted this job. Badly. She had a great vision for where the place was going. I'd be getting in on the ground floor of a new direction for an industry stalwart. It'd have been pretty fucking cool. And I lose it because I don't look healthy enough?

There's a slap in the face I feel I desperately need. It fucking hurts, to tell the truth, but it's probably the right disappointment at the right time.

Every time I begin a new focus on health in my life, I manage to fuck it up shortly thereafter. Life gets difficult, stress happens, I get lazy, whatever. It comes from being raised to associate with food emotionally. Had a bad day? That's okay, sweetheart. Have a cookie. You had a great day? Why, let's celebrate with steak!

There's just not a lot of emotional satisfaction from an apple, okay? A cinnamon bun, though. Ah, well. Slap that Band-aid right on! I've known this for a long time. I'm working on it. It's not something that changes overnight, but it's also not something that seems to be working well enough on a gradual basis.

Though, if you looked at my life with food on a chart or graph, the association with healthier things has definitely been on a steady rise for the last three or four years. It's just gradual, and I've known for a while that the time for drastic action is now. I'm just not finding the end-all motivation. Also, my lapses take longer to happen and my rebounds occur sooner. So, that's something good.

Pride's a good one, though. Dad's diabetic breakdown's a good one, too. Back when that happened, I got the flu shot from my doctor and made an appointment to see a nutritionist. That's around the corner now. Good timing, no doubt.

Sigh. Blah! This woman's made a big mistake. She'll be missing out. I already had good ideas for their marketing and had even designed an ad for the hell of it. But it's not to be. As for me, I'll be taking some motivation from this. What else is there to take, huh?

Whatever, I still have a job for the foreseeable future. It's one I like and enjoy, but I'm not getting any stable offers from them for longterm, which puts me in the awkward position of trying to keep the job while trying to find another. They're understanding enough, which is good.
Not a lot of jobs have ever come my way that would combine all I have to offer, and this one was the first to do that. Hence, bummed. Big way. But now I have something to prove. And, lookie, the time for resolutions is upon us. Funny how that works.

My new year's weekend is going to be lowkey. Friends for dinner tonight, work tomorrow followed by a heady double bill, and then I'm keeping to myself for a creative three-day break. I got some shit to get started on. This fall-through job prospect has wasted a lot of my fucking focus this month. I got to get it back and I feel like I'm about to burst anyhow.

Y'know... as shitty as this whole rejected-again deal is, I gotta say... I got an idea or two from it already, not to mention a little fire under my ass in other areas.

I'm going to go have fun and write a few notes while watching some of "Wonder Boys", a movie I turn to whenever I'm frustrated about writing/life. There's a line in there, to the effect of, "Grady, in class you're always telling us writers need to make choices. Seems to me... you didn't make any choices."

And I'll tell you, most of the problems in my life, in my writing, in everything, is because I fail to make choices. I allow myself to be led by the flow, and sometimes that's just not good enough, I'm discovering. Sigh. Anyhow. Off I go.