I’m sitting in a cafe right now among laptops and half-finished screenplays and an unemployed man who just said,“It’s a Republican system of laws that puts you in jail after 3 strikes. It means you could get life for stealing a piece of pizza. It’s as if the Republicans have never seen Les Miserables.”
It’s awesome. I fit in. I’ve got my laptop and my intense grin that says, “I’m a writer. I’m writing right now.”
It’s day two of amusing unemployment, and so far so good. Last week, the ad agency where I was working told me that I should start looking for other jobs, as they were feeling antsy and might want to try out other people. Then on Friday they told me to never come back. Via email. The job wasn’t permanent in the first place. And it’s not like I leaped out of bed each morning and ran there with glee. So this whole firing thing is really no big deal.
But it hurt. I started thinking I wasn’t good enough.
And I realized: Rejection is the pits. I knew it before. I mean, I’ve been rejected a gazillion times, the most memorable from:
*Duke University.
*Plenty of guys in high school (several of them calling me a lesbian).
*Popular girls in elementary school. Once in 1st grade, these older girls (at least fifth graders!) befriended me on the playground and hung out with me for a whole week! I finally felt the joy of having sisters. And when they found out I wasn’t Nina Schrilla, the chick from a few houses down, they never talked to me again.
*A recent date. We met in a bar and ran into my friend from high school. He went home with her.
So, it’s not like I’m a stranger to rejection. I’ve thought a lot about this little demon and have boiled it down to a few hard facts. Not really. Just one: Our egos want everybody to think we are perfect in every way. And when I say ‘we,’ I’m speaking for ‘most people,’ and when I say ‘most people’ I mean me, Laurenne. Because how do I know what other people’s egos are saying?
My ego, Lawrence, is an evil bastard, and he insists that everyone think I’m the funniest, most intelligent and most beautiful girl in the world. He also wants twenty-year-olds to think I’m their age, Benicio del Toro to think I’m marriage material, and people at make-up counters to step back when they see me and, instead of try to sell me something, say ‘Oh, you don’t need any of the stuff we sell here.’ So even when middle management at a job I don’t really love tells me they’d like to try other people, Lawrence gets pissed and convinces me that I’m no good, ugly, and fat. That’s just what egos do– cause unnecessary pain.
For example, I just had a hard time spelling ‘unnecessary’ right there and Lawrence told me I must be stupid. Argh, Lawrence! Stop saying that. I’m smart. See… that’s how you kill an ego. You have to not listen to him, and he will eventually lose his voice forever. Start by saying the opposite of what he says. For example, Lawrence will say ‘Why am I a male ego? You’re really a man trapped in a woman’s body that’s not even that womanly because your cup size is A. You should be more feminine so that people don’t start a betting pool to see when you’ll go in for your gender reassignment surgery.’
Then I should respond, “You know what, Lawrence? I am beautiful and feminine when I want to be. And I choose to never file my nails because I would rather spend my time downloading illegal episodes of 30 Rock. It’s a choice, and I’m sticking to it. And dog gone it, people like me.”
Soon these comebacks will come more naturally, and Lawrence will die forever. Until then, I will occasionally doubt my sanity and my self-worth. But that’s okay. It’s what we humans do.