I’ve been disappointed by rejection but never once discouraged.  Having faced rejection, say, about three to five times a week for the past thirteen years, the common onlooker might suggest I examine the fine line between persistence and insanity, faith and delusion, but I also might suggest that this onlooker simply doesn’t get it.  Wait for positive feedback?  Who has the time?  Plus, with that advice I’d have given up — well — thirteen years ago, the day I received my first conservatory rejection letter.  ”Given up on what?” the imaginary onlooker asks.  Someone listening.  Someone saying Yes.