.confessions.

When I was little I wanted to be an astronaut when I grew up.
Or a painter.
Or Mary from the Secret Garden. Not "contrary" like Mary was (though really, she had every right to be), just to have a secret garden out on the moors.
Some time later, I was fairly certain I wanted to work in genetics, but then I went to art school anyway and majored in illustration and ended up where I ended up.


I am not an astronaut, though there was a brief moment when I sincerely considered trying to join MarsOne (except for that not coming back part, and I've become fond of lots of things I have here on planet Earth, like ice cream). I get motion sick in planes and my anxiety makes rollar coasters difficult nowadays.

I am, quite by accident, a painter. I took one actual painting course in college - I had extra time and needed credits to stay full time and retain my health insurance and somehow snuck into the 500 level Advanced Painting course which nobody there was very happy about including the instructor but there I was anyhow, taking up space. I suffered from a severe lack of using green pigment in skin tones, completed more work than the instructor had thought was possible (quite literally, she told me a the beginning of the course that there was no way I could complete  9 portraits in one semester and two months from the end was sitting there, finished and bored), and passed despite my having been a complete and total jerk about it. Meanwhile George Zimmerman is selling what I consider to be the most horrible bullshit on ebay for upwards of 100,000 dollars and I can't even get my carpenter to finish the work he promised me in exchange for that mural I did during the summer.

I do have a garden, though not on any Irish Moors or even with beautiful walls, and I've been so busy lately that I'm not even going to work in it next year other than to continue my battle with the mint that keeps trying to overrun it again.

I am technically an illustrator and designer, though not really of any merit or achievement. I don't consider the work I create at my day job to be real work (more in the realm of college assignments) and my ability to get freelance work doesn't exist - aside from the occasional request of "Will you illustrate this children's book I wrote and by the way I don't have any money so I need to you do it for cheap or free and when it's published I promise you'll get paid."
I fell for that...once.


I've been moonlighting as a semi-professional bellydancer for a while now but even that is losing it's charm - dealing with people (other dancers and clients) becomes more and more tedious and the idea of early retirement is becoming more and more appealing.

I have a moderately successful etsy business, mostly selling geek inspired perfumes; though even that started out a far cry from what it is today as I was originally making bindi's (the first bindi seller on etsy in fact) but when everyone and their aunt figured out how easy the stupid things were to make quitting seemed the better part of valour.


In short - I am very much looking forward to my winter break where I don't really have to work on anything except for trying to make there two cats be friends (or possibly re-homing Luna) and maybe finish that painting for my godmother. Maybe I can, once again, rethink my priorities and figure out what it is that I really want to be doing. In reality I may have more interests an activities than it's reasonable to be able to focus on and excel at - something may have to go, and the garden may not be enough.
Goodnight.