niche cult

last year, during a runway show rehearsal. while other models were flirting with boys, eating pizza and playing games on their phones, I was wandering around the building with my film camera taking pictures. I paint an obvious picture of myself.

I am a cult classic movie in a niche market. that’s the type of girl I am, and I have always used this metaphor to remind myself not everyone wants me. this has never been a shocking discovery at a moment of awakening. I have a distinct and unwavering personality, I’m what you’re looking for or I’m not (that sentence wasn’t meant to sound “abrasive in-your-face” or anything, I think that’s just how it must be with me). Before I even got into modeling, I knew all about rejection and tried to prepare myself for it. Rejection and I are familiar friends, actually. We really got to know each other for awhile but as these things go, sometimes you lose touch. occasionally I would run into Rejection and we would acknowledge each other from afar in passing or even stop to make small talk about his wife, the kids. you know, this and that. Rejection and I will never be total strangers, I cross paths with Rejection as if we were tied by the red string of fate. it’s not a surprise to see Rejection when I do, but it can be a chore to make that pointless small exchange after all these years.

My history with Rejection is quite humorous at times. only because I can laugh about it now. A fond memory of meeting Rejection happened when I was finally old enough to realize what a “boy” was and I wanted that awkward lump of flesh to like me back. That might date me back to Kindergarten. Rejection and I merely met as acquaintances, I didn’t know then that I would meet him again and he would play a much larger role throughout my life.

Rejection and I became real close in high school. We had lots of classes together and really got to know one another any time I decided to tell a boy how I felt. later Rejection showed up when I applied for colleges and ALL the jobs. feeling this was more than fate, Rejection and I had a long talk. he tried to make me understand that “it just wasn’t the right time” or “they were looking for something a little different” or even “really, they were just too nervous to have sex with you, you’re a very attractive person” (that one happened 9 times). Rejection played these mind games with me, telling me I was “better than that” or “something else will come along”. what could I do but accept Rejection’s reasonings in these dark times and move on? Rejection has always been there for me with a heavy hand on my shoulder. even when I try to put a crisp dollar in the vending machine and it won’t take, Rejection is there with a another dollar and a reassuring smile.

Rejection has been showing up in all forms, but I always recognize him. sometimes sporting a new ‘do or changing his style. Rejection tries to reinvent himself but he always has the same scent. sometimes I had found myself attracted to Rejection, my mind wavering at the possibilities of us holding each other and throwing caution to the wind. other times he has pissed me off and made me feel so bad about myself I want to lock myself in a dim room and sob for days.

You learn things about yourself through others. especially with a friend like Rejection. I assumed making it through these things would thicken my skin and make me a stronger person. on the other hand, I have been told since I was young that I am sensitive and delicate and there is no way around my poorly built dam of emotions, constantly on the verge of bursting. is who you are, what others tell you you must be? I feel that is a question with an obvious and capitalized NO for an answer, but not everyone is aware of that.

thanks to my pal Rejection, I had a moment yesterday where I was suddenly hit with a wave of depression and sucked out to bummer bay where I was stuck floating aimlessly. I couldn’t figure out which direction the shore of It’s OK town was and I was getting sick and tired. it’s exhausting to keep your head afloat sometimes. both physically and metaphorically. I’m not a strong swimmer (see: can’t) in real life, but I’d like to think in symbolic metaphor land I can at least doggy paddle a ways.

I’m tired of running into my friend Rejection. he means well, I’m sure, but whenever he is around I can’t seem to keep my spirits up no matter how encouraging he says the future might be. I used to have no problem imagining an awesome and great future, Rejection never got me down. I am a hope hoarder and I seem to have a 2 car garage full of buckets filled to the brim of hope. I don’t know when or how I managed to gather and scrounge all this hope, but I have the feeling some of it is going to expire soon. I’m sure Rejection wouldn’t mind spending an afternoon tossing all the hope out the window with me.

 

Life is too short to worry about this, but I am still at an age where I seem to give a fuck about things that might not be that important in the long run. you don’t realize it until you are so far beyond it, that it’s a tiny speck on the horizon and you look back and think “why did I give so much of a fuck about that tiny useless thing?”. it’s a long journey to get to that point, I know. apparently good things will happen along the way, but that is just a stained bucket full of stale hope talking.

 

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July 27, 2012 days