Thursday, March 25, 2010
And I'll be here, doing the kitchen dance and counting calories and whatnot.
In this post, GTMS-Becca & embre suggested that I get a hobby (which I'm still brainstorming about... I'm broke and hobbies tend to be on the pricey side) but I do have a couple hobbies, one is this (yes, I consider blogging a hobby because I do love to write) and another is designing, graphic design to be a little more specific. I do invitations and things for my family (and family friends) and I'm working on a WEDDING invitation that I'm actually going to get PAID for!
Somebody is trusting me to design for one of the most important days of their life.
Did I mention I'm an amateur?
I have to admit it is very flattering! I really do love it when people say they like my designs! But at the same time I get nervous for people to see them, I get worried that it isn't so impressive. An artist is only as good as their last piece of work and, of course, I want each one to be better than the last. (OMG, did I just call myself an artist? For lack of a better word, we'll just go with that but for the record: I am no artist.) I wonder if they think it's good for an amateur, because they know me and are surprised the work came from me or if they really do think that it's good.
I suppose it doesn't matter. Why does it matter to me? Why can't I just be good for me? Why do I crave those outside compliments? I am not an artist. I am an amateur. And yet I want to be compared with the true artists? With the professionals? Talk about unrealistic expectations!!
Stop being a perfectionist Flushed!
I do dream that one day I will be able to make a nice little side income of designing.
But that's just a dream. I lack the talent and consistency. Anything that is awesome that comes from my hobby always seems like a fluke to me. I never intend for a design to the way that it turns out, it just makes itself. Maybe the design gods are helping me out, out of pity.
The week without my mom is something different though. We chat, she invites my Sis and her baby over... there's life. Without her, there is no life and I'm not strong enough to reach out. Solitude is my comfort zone. I use the excuse that I have so much to do at home, and I do but I don't use my time at home to do it. I have piles of laundry, a filthy car and tons upon tons of homework to catch up on.
I'll make an effort to step outside my safety zone.