a lot of hope

Maybe including the word "Fucking" in the title of my sculpture blog was not the most professional decision?

I find out tomorrow if I will be working for the next two months. It doesn't sit well with me that I had to wait a week to find out. Cynicism setting in. I'm in trouble if not. It's the only decent work lead I've had at all. If I keep thinking about this I think I'm going to descend into mild despair. I feel kind of helpless about the whole matter. I do all in my power, but coming to the end of my options does make me feel serious concern. I think I need to do another Williamsburg walk with a pile of resumes and see if I can't pick up another weekend job.

I've been listening to a Christmas song over and over for a couple days now. I forgot to play it over the holiday and I really like it a lot. I don't know, it's more a song that happens to be words about Christmas.

I finished the cover. That feels good at any rate. The need to be productive in these gap work phases really intensifies. They are a couple of silly little stories, but maybe that is all you can hope for when it comes to dealing with literature for the extremely young? I think we just have a problem as adults conceiving how to write for kids who can't read yet, or aren't using language. It's a little imbecilic, and heavily burdened by this unquestioned assumption that every story for children needs a moral. Maybe they're a tad young for morals yet? How about just having fun? The one about squirrels involves a lot of nuts and burying. That gets a bit repetitive to draw. How dynamic is the flow? Not very. Sigh.

I applied to two places when I got home today that excite me. In particular the one looking for sculptors. My heart just hopes, hopes, hopes... It hurts when I see a listing that truly and deeply appeals to my interest and I never hear from them. It seems that in so many areas in life the people who respond are the ones that didn't necessarily excite our deepest interest. Which hasn't meant the opportunity didn't surprise me in a good way. It all comes back to the blue coat in my own mind. A personal metaphor I don't think I've ever articulated. I found it on a sale rack and it was interesting, but not amazing. Ultimately the nominal cost (two bucks as I recall) was the clencher. If I didn't end up liking it or wearing it, what's the loss? It became my favorite coat, it totally surprised me, I totally surprised myself. It constantly reminds me to give things, or people a chance that I might feel ambivalent about. A test phase. First impressions are so faulty!

I really got myself off an early schedule. After all, I'm not working at nine every morning what's the point of turning in early? Now it's hard, I'll have to transition back into it again. On average I get out of bed at eleven now. I feel like a lazy fucking bastard! Today I don't like that. I want to feel like an active, responsible adult.

I meant to call my mom again this evening. I want to push up this thing that is upsetting me. But I feel silly, because I have no leads in myself so what would I say? Just sit there hoping it might surface for me.

John recently said any work is better than none, and though I see the truth in it I see an obvious danger. If I accept bad work at bad pay I may miss a better opportunity that comes around. I'm not so good at the sheisty thing. Ditching jobs for better opportunities. So I hold tight, keep trying and hope, hope, hope. And I feel this gentle twinge... The pain of fear.