Chapter
One: And So It Begins…
"Wow, that's a cool drawing. You should do that for a
living." "Why
are you doing this job when you draw so well?"
I've been hearing that, or words to that effect, for most
of my adult life. I've been doodling, sketching, drawing,
and painting for as long as I can hold a pencil and brush.
For me, drawing and sketching has been an integral part of
my existence, taking up a good portion of my non-working time.
At least, it had been up until two years or so ago.
I don't know what it was. Maybe it was the increasing pace
of my increasingly stressful jobs. I had gone from a relatively
stress-free job, a custom picture framer, into a hospital
setting as a unit clerk (in a mental health ward, mind you.
I could take up an entire chapter on this job), to an accounting
office as a clerk (not that stressful, really, but it was
about as exciting as watching thumb-wrestling), to becoming
a manager in a custom picture frame shop (the circle is now
completed). I think it was that last position that really
started making my hair fall out.
Before I realized what was happening, I wasn't spending my
free time drawing. I was either sleeping, eating, watching
television, or playing computer games. I was becoming a typical
American consumer! ARRRGH!! Actually, I got pretty good at
the games part. To this date, you don't want to face me in
minesweeper. You just don't. I still game to some degree,
but now it's mainly Diablo II (who knew there was a form of
electronic crack?). My fiancée had noticed the changes
right away, but she kept quiet, thinking it was just a phase
I was going through and that I'd work out of it.
Well, duh, I didn't. I kept up the stressed-out worker routine
until it got to the point where my significant other couldn't
take it anymore. She dropped the relationship bomb on me.
I was going to find another job, one I actually liked doing,
or she would bail out. As much as it would hurt the both of
us, she would leave. Yeah, that hit with all the emotional
impact she intended it to. I'm not insensitive, at least,
I don't think I am, but the fact that I couldn't see her having
to deal with me as "slug-boy" really made me look
at myself in a rather unpleasant light. You see, when we first
met and fell in love, I was constantly cracking jokes, making
puns, or otherwise being humorous. All that went out the window
with my new jobs. All of a sudden, I was being a real homebody.
The only times I would even be a portion of my old self was
when we had company over, so naturally my fiancée would
invite friends to call as often as possible.
One turning point came in the summer of 2001, when two of
my closest friends decided to sponsor me in a local art show.
This act of kindness took me completely by surprise, and made
me realize just how much drawing I hadn't been doing. The
first art show I had ever entered consisted of work that was
mostly a year old or older. Talk about feeling sheepish, lambish,
goatish, any small livestock-ish will do. I had managed to
do some small things to supplement the entries, but I simply
hadn't gotten back into the groove yet.
At the time of this writing, I am still with my fiancée,
although the deadline for me finding a new job is December
of this year (2002). I am committed to procuring the kind
of job that I can take on as a career, not just an occupation.
That means I'm trying to find work as a graphic designer or
illustrator. No, I'm not crazy or suicidal, for those of you
already in the industry. At least, I don't think so.
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