Two rejections today: one from a literary journal which was expected and thus okay; the other for a teaching post at a summer school in Cambridge, whose law syllabus I designed. Granted, in an ideal world, I wouldn't want to do any teaching at all, and it was something that I felt I had to do as opposed to really want to do.
But the email from the very nice lady who runs the programme, sent an hour ago, left me feeling quite defeated anyway. This trying to get experience which I can't get because I have no experience...and for what, exactly? I know the difference between passion and interest. Yet, I am still stuck on the same path to a lacklustre life that I unwittingly put myself on 14 years ago.
This is all rather overwhelming. At this very moment, I honestly don't know why I'm even trying, what it's for.
Just let the fear of failure continue to drive me. It's got me this far; surely it will get me over the line.
What the hell am I even doing?
The only thing that I'm looking forward to - and it's a pretty huge thing - is watching Harold Pinter's Betrayal this Saturday with E. Apart from the fact that it's Pinter, it's also Charlie Cox a.k.a. Matt Murdock a.k.a. Daredevil. Even though I'm too lazy to go through the hassle of such things, I'm convinced that I want to try and meet him after the play to get a photograph with him, maybe tell him that his work in Daredevil is amazing and inspiring, if it's not rude to talk about the actor's other project after just seeing him in his current one. We shall see. It will be cool if this happened.
Also, E and I watched Shazam! last night. I was excited about this too because Zachary Levi a.k.a Chuck, a.k.a one of my favourite TV shows ever. He was hilarious and great and the movie was superb, in that it's light-hearted entertainment that doesn't take itself seriously. It was great. Way better than boring Captain Marvel and Black Panther (only good thing about BP was the hotness that's Michael B. Jordan).
Alas, it was back to my shitty real life today, and I can't quite put into words how badly I want this torture to end, and how much I hate my life right now.
Also paid 6.65 pounds for a stupid sandwich at 5.30pm today at the British Library. I walked across the street to Pret but there was quite literally nothing vegetarian left. So I went back to the cafe that's just outside the library, which was already closing; but the man dug out a couple of vegetarian sandwiches for me. I was not happy to be paying 6.65 (the other was 4-ish) but beggars can't be choosers and all.
I stopped by Sainsbury's on the way back and bought a big loaf of bread for 1.60 so that I wouldn't ever have to buy a bloody 6.65 sandwich ever again.
Writing is the only thing that's keeping me sane right now, even if it quite often occupies too much of my focus, attention and time. But whatever; this is important to me, and that's that.