The Bus

I had a vivid dream last night. I was on a school bus, seated somewhere in the middle. I was next to the window - a faceless person sat next to me, wearing a white shirt. I was squished in my seat.

I told jokes - as I tend to do. Lots of jokes. But no one really reacted. Then Anna Kendrick got on the bus, and I called out, "Hey, did you buy your ticket for the long way round?"

Silence. Crickets. Awkward. Wherever I searched for a friendly face, I was greeted with eyes looking downward. My cheeks burned. Anna scoffed and walked to her place at the rear of the bus, where the popular people go. I was mortified and defeated.

And then I felt a hand take my own. Behind me sat Jimmy Fallon. He smiled at me; a knowing, kind smile. He's told lots of jokes. And I'm sure some of them didn't go as he planned. But he kept telling them anyway. That's why he was so nice to me.

It was a comically tender moment. The rest of the world faded into black - the bus, the snide looks, the judgment was gone. I closed my eyes and held hands with someone who understood what it's like to not be where you want to be.

*****

Earlier this week, I applied for a quick press trip to Las Vegas with a food blog network with which I'm involved. I was thrilled at the thought of someone sending me somewhere to watch, learn, experience, and write. They contacted the chosen person yesterday. I didn't get a call.

I really thought I would get it. I thought that the universe was finally stacking the odds in my favor. That someone in the "industry" finally saw my blog and said, "Hey, she's a pretty good writer." I think about this a lot; if only they would look at my blog - if only they would take a minute to see what I can do - then they would know. They would see.

But that didn't happen. And so the doubting thoughts seeped in. Maybe they did look at my blog, but I'm not actually that great of a writer. (Nah, that can't be it.)

In my disappointed unconscious I created a world on an old yellow bus where someone did see me and my talent. I made up a place that accepted me when I felt rejected. It's only natural, I suppose.

My writing is not where I want it to be. My blog is not where I want it to be. And the only thing to do is to keep at it. Keep writing about getting healthy. Keep writing about food. Keep writing about life. Keep telling jokes, no matter how hard they may fall.

Some of them are bound to get a laugh.