When I grow up...
I am 40 years, 8 months, and 20 days old as of this post. To everyone else, I am a grownup. Adult. Woman. But somewhere inside of me I hold the belief that everyone knows better than I. Everyone knows more. Everyone knows How to Be. This makes me feel very small, figuratively speaking. When I was five, I wanted to be a veterinarian. I loved animals, especially dogs and horses. Somewhere in my growing up I stopped wanting to be a vet, but nothing else really replaced that aspiration.
Except art.
I loved art, all kinds, and would spend forever drawing my own comic books (where those are now I have no clue). I remember my Crayola lazy-Susan style utopia of art supplies. I sat at the yellow counter in my basement playroom and Made Stuff. In high school, I took every art class St. Joseph's Academy had to offer. I wouldn't say I was great, but I loved it.
College came around and I went to Portfolio Days like all the other aspiring art students, hauling my projects and slides and baring my soul to Real Art Schools as if I stood a chance. It felt like walking into a den of hungry lions wearing Lady Gaga's meat dress. (If she had worn one back then. I wonder what she was doing in 1995?)
I ended up at Maryville, majoring in Studio Art. I wanted to illustrate children's books and own a coffee shop with my best friend. I wasn't sure How to do this, but I had a Want. And that Want never really went away. My advisor asked what I was going to do with my studio art degree. I am guessing my answer wasn't realistic enough because it was suggested I change my major to Art Education.
So here I am. I have taught art for 18 years. And I still don't know what I'm going to do when I grow up. I sold Stampin' Up! mostly to friends and myself. (The exclamation point is part of the name, not a part of my enthusiasm.) I have done the craft show circuit and tried to create a small craft business. I have a logo and business cards. I still have ideas for children's books. I still want a shop. Maybe not coffee, but yes I have definite ideas for a shop. I even found the perfect location. Except the lease was near $2000 a month. Maybe it's a good thing someone else finally moved in there. I was always stopped by my Whaddifs and Illnevers. What if no one comes? What if I don't make enough money? I'll never have enough time...organization...money...people... What if I fail? What then?
Part of what is stopping me is that little girl inside of me that never grew up. The one who thinks everyone knows more, everyone is more capable, everyone is better. Twenty-three years of medication and therapy and that little girl still curls up in a ball and hides in her bed. When is she going to see what is possible?
Except art.
I loved art, all kinds, and would spend forever drawing my own comic books (where those are now I have no clue). I remember my Crayola lazy-Susan style utopia of art supplies. I sat at the yellow counter in my basement playroom and Made Stuff. In high school, I took every art class St. Joseph's Academy had to offer. I wouldn't say I was great, but I loved it.
College came around and I went to Portfolio Days like all the other aspiring art students, hauling my projects and slides and baring my soul to Real Art Schools as if I stood a chance. It felt like walking into a den of hungry lions wearing Lady Gaga's meat dress. (If she had worn one back then. I wonder what she was doing in 1995?)
I ended up at Maryville, majoring in Studio Art. I wanted to illustrate children's books and own a coffee shop with my best friend. I wasn't sure How to do this, but I had a Want. And that Want never really went away. My advisor asked what I was going to do with my studio art degree. I am guessing my answer wasn't realistic enough because it was suggested I change my major to Art Education.
So here I am. I have taught art for 18 years. And I still don't know what I'm going to do when I grow up. I sold Stampin' Up! mostly to friends and myself. (The exclamation point is part of the name, not a part of my enthusiasm.) I have done the craft show circuit and tried to create a small craft business. I have a logo and business cards. I still have ideas for children's books. I still want a shop. Maybe not coffee, but yes I have definite ideas for a shop. I even found the perfect location. Except the lease was near $2000 a month. Maybe it's a good thing someone else finally moved in there. I was always stopped by my Whaddifs and Illnevers. What if no one comes? What if I don't make enough money? I'll never have enough time...organization...money...people... What if I fail? What then?
Part of what is stopping me is that little girl inside of me that never grew up. The one who thinks everyone knows more, everyone is more capable, everyone is better. Twenty-three years of medication and therapy and that little girl still curls up in a ball and hides in her bed. When is she going to see what is possible?
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