It's That Time of Year. It's That Time of Life.

A few text message conversations and thank you cards later, I'm doing one of those "how did my life get here, and where is it going?" reality checks.

I knew this was coming, it always does, ends of school years, beginnings of Summer plans.  I kind of just thought that it would get easier by now.  Why is it so hard to say goodbye to the past and hello to the present?  To let cherished friendships sleep as you take a step toward a friendless place?  And why, why why why why why, can't I seem to figure out what to do with my life?

For years I thought of myself as this hopeless romantic.  Not about men, or women;) but about art.  I would see pictures and hear stories about artists that would die for their cause and I thought: "that is SO me."  I never saw myself as doing anything other than art.  Nothing would stop me.  Not even a horrific car accident that would render me bedridden.

So now that I am almost 27, married and it's been 5 years since I graduated with my BFA, you would think I'd have it figured out by now.  Well, no, I don't. I wish I did, but I don't.  Where do I fit in in this thang called life?

I still long to be creative. Though much of my "nothing's gonna stop me" attitude has been stifled, the need to create is still there. I feel a surge of it every now and then, especially after I spend too much time watching Project Runway, Ace of Cakes or Property Brothers.  And I want to.  I want to be creative.  But the trifles of how to get there have been my stumbling block.  How does anyone get to do what they love?  Or maybe I should be asking, why is it that certain people get where they want to be?  What is it about them? 

I have come to one conclusion over the years:  Being born rich does not hurt.  

When I was a senior in high school I was a top ten contestant statewide for the Deseret News Sterling Scholar award for Visual Arts.  No doubt I worked my butt off when it came to art, I gave back to my community, blah blah blah.  But I'll never forget what if felt like to learn that the little lady who was chosen as the state Sterling Scholar was just a little bit rich.  And that her father was a successful artist to top it off, and she had shown at his gallery by then already. Barf.

Another conclusion, and heck, I just realized this the other day: I am too afraid.

For some reason I am so worried about everything! I can't get myself to go for things because I'm so tewibwy wowwied somefing bad wiw happen.  Should I go in and try to talk to the manager?  What if they don't like me? What if no one likes me? WHAT IF I FAIL??

I obsess and worry till there is no point, the cons outweigh the pros. I cripple myself.

Last conclusion: I am too busy waiting around for nothing to happen.

I keep thinking, "Welp, I just gotta wait for someone to somehow discover my undiscoverable talents and I'll be set."  This point was particularly rubbed in the other day when I stumbled upon (and by stumbled upon I mean I googled this person) the website of a college classmate.  She is an artist living it up in NY.  Her work is advanced, interesting and she is showing.  Like, actively living the life of an artist.  Right after undergrad she went to grad school, made amazing connections and used her artistic talents, as well as her sweet, charismatic attitude, to move forward with life.  This is one of her pieces:

Well my friends, I still have hope. It can still happen, it's just going to take a little more work than I thought.  There is also the comforting fact that it's more important to be a good person than a successful person.  A good person IS a successful person.  My life's work may not consist of epic paintings and pretty cakes, but hopefully it will be filled with lives bettered because of me.