Going to War

31 Aug

Pluck up your battle saber, paint your face and polish off your banshee cry.  You’ve been drafted into the ranks, you don’t know all the rules of engagement, but this is not a war you are going to loose.  Welcome to the job hunt.

At least, that’s the way it’s beginning to feel.  Fueled by dreams, desperation and caffeine, I enter the battle ground each day.  I arm myself with clever cover letters, job-specific resumes and my secret weapon: a batch of homemade chocolate chip cookies.  I wear rejection-proof armor that allows me to take bullet after bullet and get up to fight another day.  I’m so hardened in my defensive posture, forever protecting my sensitive heart, that I’ve forgotten how to really get excited about something.

Which is why I spent most of my New York Press interview laughing a bit too loudly.  As an intern, I would write, actually write, for their paper?  Not only would I get bylines, the editor would make it his business for me to get at least one big, splashy piece before I left?  I should come up with three pitches for the paper so that he can make an educated decision about which applicants would actually be good for the job?  There will be absolutely NO coffee fetching?  I’m surprised I didn’t faint on the spot.

I would love this job.  I would love this job so much that rejection might just end me.  So I go to war.  I strap on my armor, do my research and try to develop the bullet that will fly absolutely true.   I am a soldier on a mission and I will not fail.

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