It’s been a dreadfully long time since I’ve written here, or written anything but a to-do list. A very long time. Three things have predominantly occupied me: work, Tiny Park, and personal life (meaning, Brian and reading/decompressing).

The new job is going absolutely swell; I dare say (and I say I dare say become I am reading Pride and Prejudice and can only wish I were English) I am doing well and learning as quickly as one can. The only draw back is that I come home absolutely drained (I’m generally drained by 2 pm) with only the energy to make dinner, drink a glass of wine (if I’m lucky), and read a couple of pages before bed.

Earlier this week I was chatting with a colleague and talking about how I was jugging the gallery, work-related art events, and the job (which is admissions for undergraduate art and art history). A lot of art-things in my day, you can see. She exclaimed, “And you love it!” My reply, “I….love it.”

Can you imagine? It was amusing to me because as much as I might complain about the silly things that go wrong in the gallery, worry about the gallery’s legacy, be preoccupied by the job and hesitant about the future (my hopeful success), (as always) concerned about my own desired production and fame, and tired of trying to go to absolutely every event in the city….. I do love it.

I spend a lot of time thinking about my life, where it is going, and if I’m making progress. Brian could tell you best how I will never believe that I’m doing well. For me, I could always be doing better. My parents didn’t twist me into thinking this, not directly, not abusively (like they may have achieved with some of my siblings), and yet I still turned out how I did.

Last time, I wrote about rejection. I mean to send good thoughts to a friend who’s struggling and prepare myself for rejection. Luckily (or not so luckily) I did not have to deal with any. As I continue on this path I’ve chosen, I’m dealing with a calm before a storm (of transitioning to a new job — more about this wonderful career job later). I’m comforted by the fact that I can see the slow progress I’ve made.

It’s good to question, reflect, and re-evaluate your life, but remember to give yourself credit when you can. You only get to live once, so make sure everything you’re doing makes you happy and means something to you.

No one likes it, all your teachers/mentors tell you to just get over it and keep going. I’ll tell you the same thing, knowing that it isn’t as easy as said. I keep a folder in my email titled “Rejections!”. The exclamation mark is extremely important. Somehow it makes being rejected fun. You’re thinking, “As if.”

And you’re right to feel like that, but you’ve got to make it fun. What else can you do?

As I write this, I have recently been rejected from the Austin Chronicle’s Short Story Contest. For the second time. Expected, expected for self protection, and still saddening. I haven’t written a story in a month and I’ve broken my promise to submit one story per month. It wasn’t because of the rejection — I stopped a few months before and I’m not happy about it. Maybe now I’ll do something about it.

As I write this, I’m waiting to hear back from a job interview that would change my path, possibly put me on a solid professional career path. Am I prepared for that rejection?

As I write this, I know that you can’t do anything once you have been rejected and you can’t do any more than you have. It’s a lose/lose situation until it becomes a win/win. It wasn’t meant to be – that wistful consolatory phrase.

As I write this, I know deep down that I have faith in myself and my desire to succeed. So whatever happens in the next few days, it is just another thing that will happen in my long and successful life. And that’s all that can be said — that’s all I can think.

I was spurred into writing this because of a friend-of-a-friend’s plight. Of the feeling of failure and the feeling of discouragement. I hope she’ll bounce back, I hope she’ll begin to believe in herself.

Photograph by Geoffrey Clements

My stint as a gallery assistant at the Blanton Museum of Art was probably the first time I really spent any time with contemporary art. In their America/Americas, a painting by Norman Lewis has always caught my attention.

I was surprised to stumble upon him in an exhibition I saw while in Birmingham because there is so little out there about him.

And just one photograph in a Google image search?

I probably will not be the one to write a book about Lewis, but am curious about him and his work. Apparently, he died unexpectedly, but left enough behind for a person like me to stumble upon his legacy and have these moments of wonder.