In Which My Glowing Red Eyes Strike Pity and Fear Into The Hearts of My Fellow Man.

Crying jag, day three. A brief overview, in case you missed it:

Got denied both the internship and the fellowship. Spiraled into a vortex of self-pity, shame, depression, and overall self-loathing. I have the pizza boxes and bottle of wine to prove it. I have feelings of impotence, angst, fear, inferiority, uselessness, and overall failure. I'm trying to make my way out of this vortex, but the pressure is too much.

Moral of the story, don't follow your dreams and always keep Visene in your purse. The whites of my eyes are whiteboard marker red. I have no way to explain this to anyone I encounter today. Maybe I can get away with contact irritation with a side of severe allergies.

Places I've cried in the last seven days:
- Brann's Steakhouse (in front of my friends)
- My Bedroom
- The Living Room
- The open pavilionish area at work (lots of stares)
- The Bathroom at work (where my boss walked in on me sniffling and trying not to hyperventilate)

Shit, there are too many witnesses.

Goddamn, I fucking hate crying. This shit's for pussies. And babies (a baby is a pussy that doesn't know it's a pussy). I'm just glad that I didn't wear any makeup to work today.

I tried to move on today though. I applied for two jobs and emailed the fellowship coordinator for pointers on how to be a stronger candidate. Nothing will come of the jobs, they're a touch out of my skill set, but I'm trying. That's gotta count for something.

I am not a pretty crier.

But on the upside, I think I'll be celebrating my birthday here

No more pussyfooting around. I thing a true and proper drastic hair change would do me a world of good. Either blonde bangs or a long pixie cut (a la one Miss Rihanna).

Either that or a tattoo.