In Which I Require Hugs, Good Food, And A Nap.

"Please accept our apologies that this notice is going out a day late. A convergence of deadlines and a partial office brownout yesterday has us a bit behind.

We’re writing to thank you for applying to the This American Life internship, and to inform you that we’ve selected another candidate.
Please know that we were quite impressed with the candidate pool—we received hundreds of applications—and with everyone’s interest and enthusiasm. We very much enjoyed reading pitches, personal stories, and more.

Please keep in mind that there are other ways to contribute to This American Life, and for those of you itching to tell a particular story, please check out our submissions page here:



We’ve recently revamped that whole section, and worked very hard to offer guidance and examples of effective pitches, so don’t hesitate to spend some time looking it over, and if you feel certain you have something, send us a pitch!

Thanks again for your interest and for listening to the show.

All best,
The staff of This American Life"

...well fuck. Now everything's riding on this fellowship and that's a fucking terrifying feeling.

I'm also noticing that I'm using the phrase "fucking terrifying" a lot. Apparently I'm a big fat fucking fraidy cat.

Part of me is tempted to sneak off and do a couple shots while I'm here at work.

My iPod shuffle is trying to cheer me up and I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or if it makes me feel worse somehow.

If I still had a car, I'd drive around at unsafe speeds listening to unsafe music at unsafe volumes.

I feel like a partial failure right now but I know if I get denied this fellowship, I will feel like a fat, full blown failure.

Tonight will be a night of self pity and indulgence.