Thursday, June 4, 2009

Room with a Cockeyed View, a'la Meatloaf's Disapproval

I am scooting along the edge of the precipice! Spending hours pacing, sorting, needlessly packing things into tidy little boxes. I wish these next three weeks were dust already. There is nothing to fill them but goodbyes, and I'm just no good with those. Got a delayed sense of sentiment and a blockage in my consequence detector, so I come off as insincere, but it'll come. It'll be a month, maybe two, before I'm balled up on the floor of my closet-sized apartment, blubbering over pictures and trying to rub scratched CDs back to life. It'll come, it'll pass. If I know one thing, it's myself.

My apartment? My apartment! Meet the Seward. As of July 1, I'll be the proud new tenant of Room 303. And if I lean far enough out the window and face the extreme left, I'll be able to see the Space Needle, city lights, and mountains!

And how will I fund my own 48o square foot habitat? Sounds like FAQ #3

Q: What are you going to do out there?

A: Lots of things. Principle among them: I am going to complete a book out there. That is number one on the list, my highest priority, the light at the end of my tunnel vision. All else is second banana. I want it. I want it in tactile print with a slick, shiny cover. I want advances and screenplays and yaoi fanfiction and rock star heights, and I will get it. I have to, because I can't imagine being content with anything else, knowing the way I feel now. So I'll get it. I'll do all the edits and groveling it takes. That thing Meatloaf wouldn't do for love? I would do that. I would eat green eggs and ham. I would push a little old lady down the stairs if I had to, to make this work. Fortunately, I don't climb a lot of stairs while googling around for agent preferences, so the little old ladies of the world need not beware.

Second, I'm going to enjoy myself. And Seattle looks like a mighty fine place to do just that.

Last and entirely least, I'll get a job. It'll be several months before Vessel earns me a single penny, and something has to sustain me until then. I'll make this part easy: NO MORE DESIGN. I'm keeping the business, and I'll take on projects as they come. But I'm burnt out, folks. And I'm not going to stare at Adobe programs all day and then stare at a blinking cursor all night, because that's what I'm doing now and it's not working. I just want to clock in, clock out, and get paid to do anything, anything else. I'll let you know when I figure out what that is. 




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