There’s something wrong here.
I was just thinking about all of the different paths that I have taken in life. I’ve been a hard core Classics geek, a literature and theory wonk, an art educator, an English instructor, a Writing Center tutor, a writer, and an artist to name a few, and the only one that has never chafed was being an artist. Now, I’ve moved to the wilds of Wisconsin to pursue that artist-y-ness, and I find myself a hairsbreadth away from a panic attack on a regular basis–in a good way, I think.
The question is: Is this an indication that I’ve found the “right” path?
Well, not right path because there is no such think as “right,” but y’all know what I mean.
The Husband is completely supporting this craziness (which is awesome-upon-awesome), and for the first time in a really long time, I feel like I’m productive. I mean, seriously, I keep finishing pieces. I wake up in the morning, not because I’ve had enough sleep, but because the things in my head need to get out. <–This sounds crazy, but this is way better than it used to be.
So, path. Here. And me. Now. It seems to be working.
And, a photograph from the photography series I’m working on right now.
I am currently obsessed with this object. <3