So, we didn’t get nominated for the Eisners this year, and I’ve surprised myself by being quite as upset as I’ve been. When I first saw the nominations, I immediately scrolled to the Periodicals/Journalism section in excitement, then — upon not seeing THR — told myself that it was a bummer, but understandable considering the weird process of the Eisners judging system and, really, no big deal. And then I realized more and more that it was a bigger deal than I thought.
There’s some level of rejection anxiety in here, of course, and no small level of frustration that one of the two things I did this year motivated by a sense of, You know what, I am good at what I do was so definitively stymied. (Actually, it was both, in the end; I got turned down for the raise I mentioned awhile back, too.) What the rest of the ingredients were for my mood on Friday, though, I can’t fully explain. Tiredness? The karmic downside for having enjoyed Avengers: Endgame the night before…?
Whatever the reason, I spent Friday increasingly glum and, more annoyingly, increasingly distracted and unable to work as quickly as I needed, leading to me carrying work through to the weekend in order to hit deadlines. It wasn’t the best way to deal with a creeping suspicion that maybe my work is unappreciated and I’m working too much for too little reason, but the fates have a cruel sense of humor that way, I guess. I’m not sure if I didn’t hit my deadlines because I was distraught that no-one appreciates me is in any way a good excuse that works, but let’s not try to find out anytime soon.