S.A.S.E.

As mail burst forth from my rickety mailbox, bloated from the postal holiday accruement, I spied the thin edge of familiar stationary. Only two millimeters of ochre parchment needed peak from the hectic stack of ponderous bills and neon fliers shouting about 0%. I’d been rejected.

When you send a self addressed stamped envelope, it’s like writing yourself bad news. Disappointing news. Day-wrecking, confidence-cracking, why-didn’t-I-include-a-kleenex news. You know you’ll never see that envelope if they accept you. You can always hope it’s at the bottom of some tall stack on a very busy editor’s desk…until the day you get that hopeless envelope. Enveloping hopelessness, it’s mocking and tautological return address, the recipient’s name correctly spelled in an intimately familiar handwriting, the cheery stamp chosen by someone with taste—all were engineered unwittingly by yourself.

I thought that by using some of my nicest stationary (and hear me right, my collection is exquisite), it might take the edge off any impending rejection-inspired dejection. Surely only lovely things are born from heavy rag, I thought. And, wouldn’t a bit of that lovely brush off onto a loveless brush-off? Sadly, no.

[Image from: http://esart.com/projects/food/rejectioncheese.php]