Saving the wolves of yellowstone
career goal until one auspicious saturday, the 15th day of April of the year 2006: some vague idea of doing art on commission (real artists don't work on commission...so I'd only take requests when my own angst-ridden expression didn't earn me enough of a meager living) [end sarcasm] But no idea of what I'd paint: portraits? (I will never be good enough at drawing accurate faces) pet portraits? (not prestigious enough) fantasy illustration? (and end up drawing endless shallow boob-warriors)...and spend my entire existance in the state of self-doubt which by now has become as familiar as art itself? I wish I were back in high school when all I had to do to succeed was follow instructions, I was so good at that.
...the saturday that I was supposed to be writing a story to apply for a fiction writing class, but instead had slumped into depression because I had no story ideas and didn't believe I could write 15 pages of quality fiction in two days, all the while berating myself for letting the deadline get so close, I entered into a nasty passive-agressive refusal to even try, and instead spent the entire day hating myself and doing what I always do when I'm in a funk, which is to surf pointlessly. This involved many unimportant discoveries such as the weather for the next few days, finding out what my animal personality, power color, hidden talent, theme song, eye color, and life secrets were, according to some dufus's quiz on blogthings, and living vicariously through my friends' photos on facebook. And of course, I can't consider a bout of depression complete without the usual self-doubt over my artistic abilities. old news. At one point amongst this muck, I, in a state of abandon, decided (sort of) jokingly, "fuck art, I'm going to save the wolves of yellowstone instead."
and so I am. But that's not where the story ends.
the next chapter in "Adie turns her life goals inside-out"...
Scientific Illustrator