Rejection and Reflection

On Thursday, September 27th, I entered Galbraith's office with unrivaled optimism, only to find that I did not react to rejection well. My first article- "The Green Scene"- was turned down due to it's lack of uniqueness- vivre, I suppose you'd call it. My mind itself welled with emotion; I felt like crying as I left her office, embarassed and ashamed- but no tears came. Instead, I drove aimlessly for a while, and ended up in a pleasant, quiet park off of 40th Street. The sky above me was blue, but the alternating clouds made the shade hazy. I found myself on the swingset, rocking back and forth in the empty air; I threw my head back intermittently, the rush of blood to my head giving me a taste of euphoria- a childish orgasm. "We are so fond of being out among nature because it has no opinions about us" reassured the small violet volume held fast between my legs. By the time I left the park, I was calm again.

~

I went to Starbucks the subsequent morning to inocu-latte (Bird) myself before Algebra. As I nursed my iced caramel macchiato, a man and two women entered, discussing the cult status- and distinct aroma- of the venue. "It's so acidic- like rolled coins and coffee!" said the man. "It's almost enough to give me a headache." He then began discussing his college roommate's success as an amateur producer and his attendance of the Sundance Film Festival in Park City, Utah. I joined him for a few minutes, intrigued, but failed to learn his name before we parted.