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Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Suckerpunched! (revised)

This week started on a downer... such a downer it took me until today to write about it. I didn't get the job. That job I've been giddy about. The prospect of which had me skipping down the street like a cracked out schoolgirl. The prized and fabled job interviewing inmates at the Seattle Jail... it just wasn't meant to be. Apparently NorthWest Defenders decided to hire someone with relevant experience. Hmph.

The crappy part is that I didn't find out until I had become REALLY REALLY invested in the idea. I had practically written my letter of resignation. I was prepared to move downtown so that I could continue to live right next door to wherever I work. I was mentally prepared to deal with clients that actually needed my help. They even checked my references for gosh sake. Sigh. Now I've got a boss that knows I was trying to find another job, but has to continue putting up with me since the legal firm eventually rejected my sorry ass.

So last night, I dragged that lazy, tired butt to the gym. As I reached the five-minute mark on the treadmill (jogging at a pace almost as fast as a typical urban walk) I started thinking about why it is that I don't have one of these perfectly chiseled bodies that I see all around me. I see them all the time: on the streets, in the magazines, in the movies and on television. It's almost like a part of my brain thinks I'm entitled to that perfectly slim physique, and that it's unfair that I don't have one too. That's when I realized the root of my job-related depression. Not getting the job offended my sense of entitlement. I deserved that job! That's why I was so bummed out. My sense of "investment" had transformed into a sense of "entitlement".

Keenly aware of my gloriously cascading rolls of belly fat, I kept jogging past the ten-minute mark and thought about how despicable I find people who walk around with offended senses of entitlement. These are the inflexible people, the unadaptable people. Their lives don't measure up to whatever yardstick they've been programmed with, and somehow it's everyone else's fault. Or worse yet, it's their own fault, and it's irrefutable proof that they can't do anything right and ought to just kill themselves. I'm not any more entitled to that job than I am to that perfectly toned body over there. And taking occasional stabs at achieving either goal probably isn't going to be effective.

I felt more and more like a weak-kneed punk for being so upset about missing their final cut. It's all about self-discipline and resilience right? Those are the real tools you need to thrive and survive. I was starting to get woozy as I hit the fifteen-minute wall. Then my Creative Muvo (so much better than an iPod!) pumped Matisyahu's King without a Crown (from the new album Youth) into my ears. Not just the perfect rush of beat and manic happy energy, but a remarkable testament to humility. I thought about the necessity of plugging away, of changing strategies and of finding happiness wherever the universe decides to put you despite your best efforts. I cruised past my twenty minute goal easily.

I'm still not cured. Now I'm tired and numb. But I'm taking that as progress since I was miserable over the last two days.

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10 Comments:

At 5/04/2006 04:23:00 PM, Blogger Ned said...

Beautifully expressed!

May the book of your life be the best you've never read.

 
At 5/04/2006 04:27:00 PM, Blogger molly said...

The well-oiled treadmill of self-pity, self-loathing and self-worth rolls on. I think we have one of those in my gym. I'm sorry you didn't get the job. >>enter encouraging remarks about windows, God, and doors, et. al. here<<

 
At 5/15/2006 04:02:00 PM, Anonymous Jamie Gilbert said...

Jon, sorry you didn't get the job you obviously so wanted. Always knew you would end up in a job where you got to help people. God knows you were my listening ear, my shoulder to cry on. I have missed you old friend, I wonder have you ever missed me? I think of you often. my beautiful rose in the snow. I dont write much anymore, I still love to debate though... well more like argue. Coffee and Smoke sometime, or share a crap lunch? I wonder if you have me figured out yet, I have given you many clues! You made Spectrum fun. Give Pig my love. Was happy to read you still keep in touch. I have been married now for almost 7 years, who would have know crazy Jamie with those CRAZY relationships would have made a real go at a good relationship huh? Look me up sometime if you ever get the desire to do so. (K)

 
At 5/15/2006 05:11:00 PM, Blogger Johnbai3030 said...

Hey Jamie Aslin!
Hope you check back to see this response. Of course I remember you, and I think I still have a copy of your graduation poem (speaking of snow roses.) Last I recall, you were moving down by Mullenix Road in the Gig Harbor area, right?

 
At 5/15/2006 05:17:00 PM, Anonymous Jamie Gilbert said...

I live in Port Orchard, I can't belive you remember that. I just wrote you an email. How you been? I hope you write me back. I am so please you posted back :). I think I even got teary.

 
At 5/16/2006 06:10:00 PM, Anonymous Jamie said...

John did you get my email? Good luck with job search. :)

 
At 5/19/2006 10:56:00 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hey Jamie Aslin!! This is Pam Riley and I remember you taking care of.... the gay kid who threw up that morning, but his name escapes me at the moment. John will know. You were such an awesome kid. I am glad you are happy. ~P

 
At 5/19/2006 11:02:00 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Alan!! It was Alan something! Has anyone heard from him at all, do you know? I think about all my little noodniks often.

 
At 5/19/2006 11:40:00 AM, Anonymous Jamie said...

Hi,Pam. Yea, Alan Dawson. He ended up moving to cali with his boyfriend. Who in turn ended up being abusive. The both got caught up in some bad stuff. I talked to Him about 1 1/2-2 years ago when he was in town for his Dad's funeral (he had been sick for awhile, but they had mended fences before he died). He seemed to be gettin his stuff together. But he was still with Scott(the boyfriend), so who really knows if he was being honest. I bet if I could find Sean he would know, but I am having a hard time finding him. I am determined though, so I am sure I will find Supe (keeping my fingers crossed anyway).
So how are you doing Pam? Thanks for saying I was an awesome kid. I had my moments. :).
Laters~
Jamie

P.S. Hi John, since this is your blog I had to give you a 'Sup. HA ha.

 
At 5/19/2006 09:25:00 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Well actually, Alan took a handful of pills and YOU MADE him throw up. Then you saved the bucket for the EMTS. Impressive I say.

I am doing dandy sweetie. I am counseling in a traditional high school in a little town called Arlington, north of Seattle.

Has anyone heard from Tina and/or Crystal?

Hi John!

~p

 

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