No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction at anytime.
There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction,
a blessed unrest keeps us marching and makes us more alive than others.
-- Martha Graham to Agnes De Mille
Was || Will Be || Past Moments || Now || Notes

2001-06-08 - 4:20 p.m.

wish me luck

so i want to call SoccerGirl and see if i can see her this weekend. i've been putting it off, but i've alse been putting off having real plans for the weekend, so i'm getting some people pretty pissed at me. i just don't want to call and get told no again.

i have this thing with rejection.

i fricking hate it.

hate it

hate it

hate it

i can't really convey to you how much i hate it.

in college i found this set of comic strips with Rejection Man. he was this huge, hulking, muscle-bound dude in a super-hero type costume (with an exclamation point over the face). the intrepid but more than a little geeky hero of the strip would ask some girl out, and Rejection Man would be hiding in the bushes. then, when the rejection inevitably came, he'd jump out and pound the hero to a pulp.

that comic strip captured how i feel about asking women out more accurately than anything i've ever seen.

except that for me theres not just one Rejection Man. for me he brings along his twin brother. and they both have dogs. rabid dogs. with fricking lasers on their heads.

am i getting through to you?

to help stave off all this anxiety, i just logged onto match.com for the first time in several weeks. and this time i actually sent out some emails. i think the theory was that taking some positive action would help me feel better about the whole thing.

didn't work.

okay. okay. okay.


here we go.

wish me luck.

ye gods, i'm pathetic.


did i ever mention how much i love answering machines *and* cell phones?

well there's a reason for that

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