(no subject)
My portfolio is divided into chunks, some right here with me, some with my photographer, and some outside by the trash.
Soon I will send it off, out into the world, and then soon I will know what those people I wish to learn from think of my skill, my work, and my potential.
Of course I'm not okay. I'm compulsively smoking (everything), I'm spending all my money, and making bad decisions regarding work, sociability, and other areas. All in all, I feel like I can't possibly do anything.
But I think I'm almost over it. Monthly hormones tend to fuck me up rather effectively. This existential crisis shall pass, and until then I think of bunnies and rainbows and flowers and sunshine and Vicodin, gay porn, Andrew Bird, and other things that make me smile.
Soon I will send it off, out into the world, and then soon I will know what those people I wish to learn from think of my skill, my work, and my potential.
Of course I'm not okay. I'm compulsively smoking (everything), I'm spending all my money, and making bad decisions regarding work, sociability, and other areas. All in all, I feel like I can't possibly do anything.
But I think I'm almost over it. Monthly hormones tend to fuck me up rather effectively. This existential crisis shall pass, and until then I think of bunnies and rainbows and flowers and sunshine and Vicodin, gay porn, Andrew Bird, and other things that make me smile.