Look at the blog, Larry. Just look at that blog.

This is gonna be about Band-Aids. It's pretty great.

#44. Crap.

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Crap crap crap crap crap crap.

I promised myself I wouldn’t spend the last day of Project 54 doing the dozen entries I had neglected to think about for the last week and a half.

And yet, here I am.

The more time I waste wallowing in my own self-pity, the less time I have to hastily throw together a bunch of crap to finish out the semester. So without further adieu, here’s a short story about what I did yesterday.

Don’t turn green.

Don’t turn green.

No green no. No green. No no no no no green.

Dammit.

Why do you hate me, traffic light? Did I do something to you personally? Was it all the swearing I did right before this story started? If you would just do something as simple as staying red forever, I could just sit here. I wouldn’t have to take this left turn. I wouldn’t have to pull up in front of the Richmond CBS station and face the nerve-exploding panicky mess that is me trying to do some basic networking over the summer.

And yet here I am. The car’s parked. I am, technically speaking, on the sidewalk. I need something to do over the summer. Working, or interning, or answering phones or whatever at a TV station would be great. I love TV. I want to be TV. I’m scared shitless over the thought of being rejected from working in TV.

I take a step. And then another. The meth-addled butterflies in my stomach start to relax as my pace quickens a little bit. For some reason, I can hear someone narrating this in my head.

And so we bear witness to the first time Adam Bellotto will ever inside a TV station.

Things start to click. I look at my reflection in that shiny, CBS glass and see a boyishly handsome young man, hope glimmering in his soft green (and modest, too) eyes.

I see the door.

This is happening.

And by ‘This,’ I mean my face slamming into the clearly locked front door.

I take a step back and rub my wounded face and ego, only to see a woman inside the building flash what…. might be a smile and wave me in from behind the front desk. Gingerly, I open the no-longer-locked door, and calmly ask about any kind of unpaid volunteer/internship type things I could do over the summer.

“Oh. CBS don’t do no volunteer work.”

Oh joy. And all that build-up for nothing. As I headed for home, I thought about how it wasn’t just my face that was hurting, but also my soul, but that my philosophy on life had changed, if just a tiny little bit. Thanks to the now-needing-a-Band-Aid wound on my face, I had grown up some. I faced my fears. Even if it ended in a hilariously brief way.

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Written by mandudeman

May 3, 2011 at 11:20 pm

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