This is Slash’s wife, Perla Hudson’s Twitter bio. I suppose “with a new age twist” means “getting divorced.”
Give me a fucking second. Please.
Okay, so obviously what’s going on with me isn’t even a quarter as severe as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but I can’t think of another term for it. And I really hate to get emo over the internet, but it’s really hard to be funny when you’re sad/confused/weird. ON TO THE EMO!
I hate to keep talking about the interview for THE JOB, but it’s all I can think about. I keep thinking about what I should have said before, during, and after the fact. I should have handled that rejection call better (I should have gotten up earlier so that I didn’t have sleepy voice!). I should have told her to keep me in mind. I should have emphasized in the interview that I HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO DO THIS DAMN JOB. I should have stressed my production experience as much as my office experience. There is no doubt in my mind I could have done that job and made some really great friends and connections.
I mean, this was the job that could have changed my life. It would have been an awesome experience and a fantastic thing to put on my resume. Instead I’m here. Same spot, different day. I find it hard to believe another opportunity will ever present itself like this one did. The odds are not in my favor.
I get worried. I feel inadequate. I didn’t go to an amazing college and I’m having a hell of time getting any experience out here. Again, I knew all of this before I moved out here, but I had no idea it would take THIS long to find a job. Any job at this point.
But man, how incredible would it have been to actually get THE JOB. It would have been great. I would have felt worthy and proud to work on such a show. I’d take it as a sign that I am meant to be here. I am meant to contribute to the world of scripted television.
I’m really not trying to have a pity party, I just CAN’T GET THIS DAMN MISSED OPPORTUNITY OUT OF MY SKULL (the caps are necessary right now). I keep telling myself - “You’ll get the job you’re meant to get” - but holy shit. That’s all I can say is holy shit. I don’t know what to do. I guess if it takes another six months before I have another awesome interview, then it takes another six months. In the meantime I’ll write and get really old.
I’ll get the job I’m meant to get. I hope.
Disclaimer: The following isn’t funny. Well, you might find it funny if you’re a sadist (if you are - call me!).
I had a job interview last Friday. It was my fourth interview since I moved out to L.A. in February. I’m beginning to think I’m a terrible interviewee. The following have been the outcome of all of those interviews:
A) Got a rejection letter in the mail
B) Got a rejection call
C) Just didn’t hear anything period
I got a rejection call this morning and I’ve been obsessing over how I responded to it ever since. I still had sleepy voice so I was embarrassed to be on the phone. Our convo went like this:
Her: Hi, Nicole. I’m calling to let you know that we went with someone else. Someone who has more production experience.
Me: Thanks for calling. Have a nice day.
I should have used that moment to tell her that if something went wrong with the other person to give me a call, right? I don’t know why I am so TERRIBLE at this job hunting/getting/interacting business. It’s definitely something I need to perfect…or at least attempt to improve. I know I could have done this damn job no problem. It doesn’t take a scientist to do PA work.
This job was seriously such a great opportunity. It would have opened so (so so so so) many doors and now it’s gone. I have no idea how on earth I will ever get another chance like this. Gaaaah. I wish I would have had a longer convo with her. I just really wanted to get off that phone. They didn’t pick me and that’s that. I sent her a thank you note, so I’m happy I at least did that.
I don’t know what to do with myself. I don’t know where to start. I guess a Starbucks or Wendy’s or H&M. Maybe I’m not meant to be doing this… I’d like to think I am. My heart says I need to be here doing this, but it’s my damn brain that always ruins things. Mostly ruins my self-worth. So dumb.
I need a damn job! But I want one that will help my career. This old fellow and I are sharing a face palm right now.
Oh shut up, liar.