vitriol, suitable only for a reminder

February 6, 2004

I’m so glad the interview went badly yesterday. I was so relieved. One of those situations where I left with a clear conscience because I knew I did my best, and knew I wouldn’t get it. And yesterday, when I said I really wanted the position, that was a conditional statement like “If I had to pick between peas and beets, I would definitely eat peas” given that I can’t stand either of those vegetables. If I had to pick between eviction and working a web contract, I would pick the web contract. Eviction’s looking pretty good though.

I don’t care if I’m poor. I don’t care if it’s a struggle. Every day, I sit down and write. I work on web stuff. Sometimes I paint or draw. I take photographs. I make things. These things I make, they’re in the fledgling stage. They’re like children, still dependent on me for value. If their value grows, the investment I have made in creating & nurturing them will be returned. If not, their mere existence is my return. I wish I didn’t put so much faith in the things I do. I wish I didn’t depend so much on the process of creating. And I wish that I wouldn’t panic so much when it seems sometimes like the inspiration has dried up. However, it is nice to depend on something, I think. For me, at least, whose inclination is complete hermitage and superindependence.

I have a very good year ahead of me. I have photos to submit to a show in March. I was asked to submit a short story for an anthology. My zine is coming along, even though I wish it had been done sooner. I’m building a community site – actually participating in the web, instead of making things and demanding that people tell me they’re pretty. I have manageable artistic goals to meet. The ideas, they just keep coming. This is my life – I am already in the process of living it. I am not waiting for more money, for more supplies, or more time. I am not waiting for more validation. I am not mincing words when I demand recognition as an artist, even if I am not reknowned for having more than a hobbyist’s level of ability.

I am not going back to the fucking office.

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