So, who am I, anyway?
Shakespeare said: “What e’er thou art, act well they part.” What art I? What is my part?

• I am socially uncertain and uncomfortable, which comes across as quiet and stand-offish.
• I am observant and spontaneous.
• I work on the fly, but think I need to be working slowly and carefully and technically.
• I’m bluffing my way through most situations.
• I’m an artist, which means I am inclined to let things happen and see what comes.
• I love fun, in life and in my imagery.
• I am a perfectionist.
• I am a comfort-seeker, which presents itself in my imagery and environment as symmetry, balance and composition.
• I am patient; I wait for the perfect moment.
• I believe things should be presented as they are, not as they should be.
• I believe that, as they are, most people are astonishingly lovely.

Ok. Now what do I do with that information? How do I use it to sell my services? “Act well thy part.” How do I do that?

I’ve always wanted this. I’ve wanted to work for myself, to be my own boss, to make my own decisions. The reality is much less romantic than I expected, and I am much less mentally prepared for the bumps. There’s a mindset for this; you have to be confident and determined. I’m certainly determined, but am discovering that I am not at all confident. I wake up thinking about this, and wondering what the hell I think I’m doing. I wonder if this is actually happening. Do people really do this sort of thing? Am I doing it right? Am I the right type of person?

It’s difficult to describe how I’m feeling, because it’s never been an issue before. This was always just an abstract idea, a possibility, a side project. Apparently I never thought it would or could actually happen. And now that it’s on the verge, I’m standing here with my eyes wide and my mouth slack, desperately trying to figure out how to make it work. I want it to just appear, because I have no idea how to bring it into being. I have business cards and fliers, I have an amazing cheerleader, I have a craigslist ad, I have some small word of mouth, but I’m standing here wondering what I’m supposed to do with all of it.

Richard keeps telling me that I have to stop worrying, that it will happen, that it can’t help but happen. He says I’m too concerned with being in control of every element. And he’s right; I want to control how many sittings, how it grows, when the very nature of art is that it grows organically and random directions, but always up. I’m afraid if it gets too big, if I take on too many sittings, that I won’t have time for making work. The truth is that it needs to be big before I can hone it down to something I can work with.

Life is an adventure. This part of life is an adventure. I need to just keep reminding myself of that. And sometimes adventures have boring, stressful stretches. Still, this is fun, right?

So, I “spent time” with my ex. It was completely unplanned, it felt amazing to be desired, and touched with awareness and gentleness. And, I did it for me. I didn’t feel pressured, I didn’t feel like I wanted to hurry him along so it would be over with, I didn’t feel afraid or annoyed or uninterested. I was fully involved and in control. I feel no inclination or obligation to call him or answer his calls, any more than I did yesterday. And for those reasons, it was good.

This is a positive milestone.

Imposing personal order, creating control over something, anything.
That’s what the grad school application portfolio is about.

And … off we go!

There’s an ebb and flow to my mental abilities, to my motivation, my attention span. It’s hormonal, and it’s predictable, and yet it always catches me by surprise.

For the week (ish) before my period I crave sugary foods almost uncontrollably, and I find myself unable to think clearly about what needs to be done and how to go about doing it. I have vague ideas about ways to move my goals forward, but have no motivation and almost always talk myself out of it. During these days I’m my own worst enemy. My days become blank and dark and everything is sisyphean.

So, that’s where I am right now. It’ll be over in a few days, but don’t be surprised if I’m kind of a pain in the ass to associate with right now.

I still love you.

I’ve come clanging up against the end of a list, and now I don’t know what to do. I accomplished two things today: I mailed off a customer’s purchase, and I started another cowl. And I’m sitting here freaking out because I need cash right now, like, right NOW and I’m all fucked up in the head about it. I need to clean my apartment, I need to call my 401k, I need to fill out forms and make phone calls to extend my student loan deferments, I need to do laundry and go to the library. But none of those things puts any money into my bank account.

When I pay my rent, I’m out of money. Out. The end. No more. Totally fucked.

I know that I’m about to get up, go to my desk, make a list, and start executing that list. And I know that when that happens I’m going to feel better. But right now, I’m a ball of nervous mess. BLECH.

I got a TON of stuff done today:

• Pay bills, plan budget
• Contact temp agency
• Go to the library
• Order leather for more books
• Shower
• Get Groceries
• Visit SAIC and Columbia Collage Grad programs
• Ask about job at grocery store

This is good. It’s very good. I still feel a lot of stress about getting the cash I need, but I don’t feel out of control or freaked out. I suppose there’s plenty of time for that.

The quick visits to the School of the Art Institute of Chicago and to Columbia College told me that I don’t want to go to SAIC, and I DEFINITELY want to get into Columbia. They’re much more interested in producing working artists, unlike SAIC which is more geared toward churning out commercial photographers. I’m still going to look at other schools in the area. I guess.

Today I packed up my things, and put what turned out to be way more shit than I realized into three bags. Then I slung them over my shoulders and walked out of my cubicle, out of my office, out of the building and over to the train. For the last time. And I’m scared out of my mind, and at the same time I feel totally sure of what I’m doing. Which is very confusing.

Now I’m sitting in my apartment, watching the sun go down, and realizing that I have a mountain of things to do if this is going to work out. I need to find part-time work. I need to make some books and contact some boutiques. I need to really research grad schools. I need to make lists and phone calls and do laundry and clean off my desk and warm up my apartment because it is FREEZING IN HERE.

Tomorrow I’m going to the gym, and I’m going to volunteer at the museum, and I’m going to maybe do some laundry. Sunday I’m going to (maybe) go to church, then to the gym, then the movies with my friend down the hall. Monday is the day to get this all started. Monday. I need to calm down until Monday.

I grinned all the way to work today. I can’t believe it’s the last week.

They’re piling work on me, and I had to break the news to a couple of people who have obviously been kept out of the loop. They’re starting to feel sorry for themselves.

I keep telling people I’m losing my job, but the truth is I’m leaving it. I guess losing it means less personal responsibility, and I’m just not ready to admit that I’m making this decision that could just absolutely blow up in my face. I mean, really blow up. It could blow me (ha! blow me!) back to Utah. I don’t want to go back to Utah.

But I still have that feeling that I’m doing the right thing. And even if I didn’t, I can’t keep going to that damn job. I cannot imagine myself there, hating it, every damn day. Walking in there every morning and sitting down at that desk and plugging away at work that neither excites me or challenges me. Trolling the internet to keep my mind busy. Keeping music or movies or television going while I work so I can pretend it’s not happening.

I realize I’m an absolute jerk. I’m a spoiled brat to quit my job when people out there are praying for food for the table and money for the bills. Who knows? Maybe the person they hire to replace me will be one of those people. So what I’m really doing is a favor, right? But I’m in a perfect position to do an incredibly stupid thing with my economic stability. I’m not married, I’m not a parent, I’m not responsible for anyone’s health and well being. Except mine, of course. Of course.

I promise I’m doing my utmost to be responsible.