Hi.  My name is Angela.  I’m a loser.  Every now and then there’s a window during my day when I feel connected to a greater source that insists I am a normal, worthy, moderately attractive, well-educated, loving, loveable, apt and capable person.   But that window usually closes in the same breath it took to bust it open. 

Luckily, circumstances lend a heavy hand to prevent that window from widening.  Take today, for example….

I saddled up on my bike for a ride in the midday sun.  I love my bike.  Not in a ‘competitive cyclist’ kind of way, or even ‘doing this for exercise’ kind of way. I love my bike in an “I’m playing outside” kind of way.  Purely for joy.  Childlike, unabashed, innocent and pure, tear-to-your-eye joy.  The kind of fruit so juicy you have to eat it in a bath tub naked.

My translucent skin soaked up the plentiful Vitamin D. I held a half-smile for 35 minutes of riding and solitude.  Just me, the sun, and the electrocardiographical zigzag of mountains guarding the valley I now call home.   As I peddle and try to ignore how badly my squeaky, neglected bicycle needs a tune-up that I can’t afford, my thoughts dilly dally between gratitude and excitement, “ I have a new job!  My sister’s baby is perfect!  My whole family is healthy.  I love my sweetheart.  I got a job at last!  I can help us!  New possibilities!  Financial stability!   The stars!  Yoga! How lucky I am!”

Poof.   No you’re not.

With the retreival of a single voice; that of our foreign receptionist, I lost my job.  Lost that possibility.  Lost that financial stability.  Lost that gratitude. Lost the stars.  

Why? 

No explanation offered.  However I’m acutely certain that no one gets cut if they are “too good” at their job.  Though in this case, I hadn’t even begun my job, hadn’t even been given the opportunity to perform. 

I’m left to surmise only that I was absolutely poor in some way; no matter how massive or minute that way.    I sucked at it.  

Folks.  I began training for a job on Monday.  Today, I was asked not to continue.  They didn’t tell me why.  Considering we sat in our seats all three days of training, maybe I’m just really really bad at sitting in a chair? I’ve fondled the swiss cheese in my cranium for answers.  See, without a valid explanation, my imagination is afforded too much room to roam.  

I got cut because I wasn’t good enough.  For a simple job at the bottom of the totem pole….I wasn’t even good enough for it.  

This afternoon my dear friends and loved ones puffed me up with sympathetic excuses, “that’s how restaurants are.” ”restaurants always overhire before they open and then lay people off”, “it wasn’t meant to be”, “there’s a better job waiting for you right around the corner”.

Really?  Really.

I don’t believe that. I don’t believe that “when one door closes another opens.”   Just saying.  I don’t.  When one door closes, it’s closed.  Period.  End of the story.   Funny. My high school English teacher noted that I was a genuine Pessimist (to which I took grave offense at age 17).  How on point he turned out to be.

I do believe every time I say yes to one thing, I am inherently saying no to another.  

Due to ’inclement’ circumstances, I feel appointed to nix the outside world and welcome  my raging loserhood this evening.  Excuse me while I crawl into my balasana (child’s pose) and water my bedroom carpet with celebratory tears.  This too shall pass.   

Signed,

-Natural Born Pessimist. Foolishly aspiring to contribute to the world in a positive way.  In perpetual life training.