Two more reasons to take to the bottle...

[Writers' note: Please excuse some of the language in this post. I'm very angry.]
...Or maybe it's just one big reason: rejection. Seems like I've been getting a lot of that lately.

A few days ago I got a letter back from the Star-Telegram about my internship. "Oh, we just had so many qualified applicants, and we could *only* take six. Sorry, you're not one of them."

And today, the CA/PA letters arrived. They apparently " do not have an opening which matches your unique skills and abilities" (<-- direct quote; AND it has a grammatical error...which should be that. Ha! So there!) Which is a total and complete lie.
"WTF?" you are thinking. "Didn't you not really want that position anyway?"

Yes, noble reader, you are right. I didn't really want the position. But I didn't want to be rejected. The two preferable scenarios I had in mind were a) be accepted and suck it up and do it for my parents' benefit or b) be accepted for somewhere I didn't want and boldly decline. Instead I was just flat-out rejected.

Rejection hurts.

Especially because I KNOW I could be one rockin' CA. I could kick the position's ass. This may be cruel of me to say, but I am 110% certain that I would be a better PA than some we've had: I don't have a problem maintaining a 3.0 GPA, I don't go to crazy drinking parties, I'm not a total moron, and I honestly care about the community.

Now I feel like all my volunteering in the community was/is worthless. It's like the community went, "nah, we don't really need *YOU* to get by. You just needed something to keep you busy." WHAT THE BLOODY HELL HAVE I BEEN SACRIFICING MYSELF FOR???? Clearly the powers that be don't think my efforts amount to anything. And now some fucking idiot is going to wind up in FARC and destroy all the things we've worked so hard for.

"Oh, come on Megan, it won't be that bad!" you're saying. "Now you can just move into the girls' apartment! Hurray!" Yea, well, I'm not really sure that is all that likely. After I so meticulously prepared a letter for my parents, trying to initiate that conversation (several times), I just got brushed off. I'm fairly sure they'll just have me living in FARC. With nothing for me to do about it.


And, just to add insult to injury, I come home from *nicely* covering another girls' copyediting shift to find The Roommate in bed with her (ex)boyfriend. They'd broken up sometime this week because he was walking all over her, or something like that. And he was begging to get back together. She was holding strong. For the first time since I met her, I was liking The Roommate's decision and was silently rooting for her. And then I come home to them asleep in each others' arms. She gave in. AND they're in my room... they probably assumed I'd left. (they've never slept together in the room before). Argh!