So, I’m… Where am I? What am I doing? Why am I doing it? The fuck is my deal?
Who knows anymore? A few people care. I know well enough as soon as I stop caring, I’m done for. Better pull my ship together so I can do someone proud somehow.
There’s some melodrama. You know, cause drama sells… Keeps things interesting… Or some shit.
One more day of work and I’m off for about three weeks of vacation. I’m hanging a lot of hopes on this vacation. Let’s go down the list, shall we?
I will need to finish up this semester’s finals. The house will be repaired and cleaned. Gonna road trip back east and check on family. Gonna art e’ry day! Going to stop off in old stomping grounds, drink in nostalgia, and take pictures. Go on hikes and revel in the greenery. Gonna smoke pot, nip on the local wine. And somehow, find time to be the laziest mofo you ever did see.
Can it be done? Really? All of it? Sources point to, honestly, doubtful. But these ambitions sure do get me through the tough as nails workdays. And the dreams lull me into a place of peace, so I’m not about to dispense with those.
I will do as I always do and play it by ear. Improv my way through each day and be sure to savor every moment outside of drudgery. I will recharge. I will endure.
Maybe, time permitting, I’ll have enough time to scribble up an escape plan. I’ll make for the coast, refurb a boat, and make my getaway a la Shawshank style.
So, I got me a life long art habit. I’m plenty good at what I do. Do I do it enough and reliably? Well… there’s always room for improvement. That’s life. Do I know what I want to do with it? Life or art? Feels like a no. Will I stop living or arting… Also, no. Or, for a macabre joke, “eventually”.
Mmkay, less me more art. Lemme introduce you to Greta. She’s the star of the next book. It’s a simple little thing about her and her day, daily to-do’s and not do’s. Simple pimple. As to why the book is 60 pages… cause I might need to cull it some. Sketches and storyboard soon to follow.
Soon after Greta’s book is released and being produced at the same time it is book… 5… I think. Tentative title still in the works, as are characters and script. This here is gonna be another simpler book for a younger audience. Pretty basic stuff, shapes, numbers, and letters but with charming art.
And, as always, the GIANT pics for our main book are still in the works. I get a nagging feeling that I’m being overly ambitious with these but at the same time I feel like quality is one of my selling points. So, compromise will have to wait.
Lastly, worrying about building an audience is the most effort I’ve dedicated to actually building an audience. So, yeah, I got that to worry about too.
Mmkay, art life support is being built up. Reached out to a few old art buddies, and we plan on getting back together for old man art sessions. Feels like getting the high school band back together for jam sessions. While arting again will feel nice, yammering with good buddies sounds great, too.
At this hospital, some of my favorite people are from back in the day. Other-Steve started out as a night nurse is now a nurse practitioner, has a large family, keeps admirably busy. Gal friend Amy who started as a CNA, is out doing her clinicals, a hairsbreadth away from graduating herself as a nurse practitioner. My-shell-Michelle survived poverty, a large family, and working this place as a nurse. Went back to school, got another degree, now employed with a six-digit salary in a happier place.
All three are wicked smart and deserve the successes they earn. And I’m sure they do earn them.
So here is why I’m sharing these three with you. Some envy and inadequacy on my part. These three have grown in their careers and lives a lot. When I try to measure myself against their accomplishments, I can’t help but feel, well, smaller.
I know, I know. The infamous case of the grass looking greener. And, too, comparing triangles to circles. The results clear, but what isn’t so clear is the price paid. I am not privy to the sacrifices made nor the tears shed on behalf of the prize. Also, my path is separate from theirs even though I am compelled by their gravitational pull because, you know, the people you surround yourself with influence you. I don’t want to be them per se, I want to be successful like them.
As it stands, whenever I run into any of these three, the easy rapport endures. But, and there’s a “but,” I have to wriggle past their preconceived notions to get to real-deal them. For instance, Other-Steve looks at me with pity. He’s grown; meanwhile I haven’t. I have to be firmly confident with him before both of us can relax and be ourselves. Amy greets me with disdain. Harsh, but that’s because her instincts value status first. Again, I have to meet this with confidence before we can reconnect. Michelle, aloofness; me, charm. Work past the awkward discourse and she warms right up.
Minor inconveniences, to be sure. Wouldn’t it be nice if I could brag about my accomplishments? Instead of manipulating my way into their good graces, to wriggle my shit together in such a way where, well, they greeted me with respect. I’d be nice to inspire them the way they do me. And maybe it’d be nice if they were jealous, too. . . You know, just a little.