To be a polymath

I've got a beef. Not a big beef, just a little niggling, I-keep-thinking-about-it-and-want-to-get-it-off-my-chest beef.

I love to learn and I love trying new things. My skill levels vary across a multitude of areas - but all things which interest me or have interested me at some point.

At the moment I'm studying British Sign Language and Psychology - because I've wanted to learn sign language since I was about fourteen and because I read psychology text books for fun so I figured I may as well keep reading them and work towards a qualification at the same time.

I've also done a lot of different jobs. I've been the CEO of a not for profit organisation that I set up because I saw a clear gap in support for GBLQQTTI youth living in Calgary.

I've worked in administrative roles, done project management, and been a fundraiser. During all this time I've expressed my creative side in various ways. I sculpt, paint, and draw. I make costumes. I paint custom shoes. I've also been employed as an animator and gone on to do some animations as personal projects.

Since moving to London I've begun flexing my design muscles and this year I am officially a professional graphic designer, working as an artworker on the comms team at a charity and doing freelance logo design, among other things.

I am a writer and have been since I was physically capable of it. I've written several young adult novels and most recently wrote my very first non-fiction book. I learn by doing and decided I'd do my own layout and formatting of this book to build on my design skills and because it's something else I can add to my super fantastic list of life accomplishments.

Now here's my beef:
I tend to get called a 'Jack of All Trades'. That's fine, but the unspoken second half of that phrase is 'Master of None', which implies a certain failing on the part of the individual. Like, sure, you do a lot of stuff but you're not particularly good at anything.

This is a beef for me because I get told I shouldn't showcase so much of what I do. That I should only put one or two things out there. But all these things show the diversity of my skill, the flexibility of my style and the variety of ideas I have. It's also not to say I haven't mastered anything. The Miscellaneous Youth Network is a thriving organisation. I don't feel the need to still be involved or to set up another not for profit. I did it, successfully.

Sometimes it's not about reaching mastery. There's nothing wrong with dabbling just for the sake of trying something out. Or I have gotten the foundation in place so I can spend the rest of my life mastering it because some things change and grow so much and so fast that learning is constant. For example, my ongoing creative projects all feed into my design work - and anyone in the design industry will tell you it's always growing and changing. I am improving every day and I wouldn't have the flexibility that I have if I didn't explore multiple mediums.

I'm going to be 28 soon. As someone under thirty I realise I'm still considered utterly youthful and inexperienced. I know I have a lot to learn - but not because I'm young - because life is full of constant discovery. There is so much to do and learn and life is shorter than we realise. I want to be eighty and still have a lot to learn and still have the passion and drive to go do it.

Call me a Jack of all Trades if you like, but for me life would be utterly boring if I only got better at doing one thing. I like to think I'm a master of life and if life is about growing and doing and experiencing - then I figure I'm doing pretty damn good. 

All that being said, this past week I finished painting this spiffy pair of shoes:

Finished laying out the first draft of my book:

handed in my first psychology assignment three weeks early,
and completed four more briefs for my current clients.

All the ideas we have

A new character came to me. This used to happen to me a lot, but not so much since I’ve started sending out manuscripts and sharing all the other characters I’ve written in the past.

I saw a name written down and suddenly he started to talk to me. I could picture what he was like – fair haired, quiet, a little moody. It’s all terribly inconvenient though. Because a character showing up is how I start writing a book and writing a book is something I simply do not have time for at the moment. So I’m making a little shelf and I’m going to sit him on it, to wait.

The inspiring view of King's Cross St. Pancras
from Central Saint Martins

Where there is one more will soon follow. It’s an inevitability. One by one I’ll line them up together, where they can wait for me to find a plot for them to live in. Perhaps in a few months, or perhaps in November, for NaNoWriMo, but not just yet. He’s there and with him are ideas and ideas are fuel for my creativity, so he won’t be ignored or forgotten.

He’s not alone of course. His shelf sits above a chest full of costumes I will one day create which is next to two giant sculptures I have planned. Hanging by their laces from hooks on the wall are shoes I will paint and in a filing cabinet are the frames of animations I will draw. All of them are waiting for their moment.

Right now the moment belongs to a book called ‘Wise at Any Age’, which I’ve been working on for three years. It belongs to three edited young adult fiction manuscripts which I continue to submit to agents. It belongs to psychology studies and design courses and freelancing.

When these things are done they will join the list of accomplishments: The shoes I have painted, the animations I have done, the places I’ve travelled, the books I’ve read, the paintings I’ve brushed, the facts I’ve learned, and all the wonderful discoveries I’ve made.

This is how it should be because these are the things a life is made up of.

Some creative, spontaneous writing

Sometimes when I’m walking through London it feels like my city. Not like my home. Not like the connection I have to Calgary, where my roots were grown and stretch down deep, but like I know the city through my feet. 

I’ll be listening to a song and as I weave through the crowd I connect to the pulse around me. My feet know exactly where they’re going and my eyes can just take it all in. From Covent Garden, down past Leicester Square, the shops dissolve into theatres and the theatres turn into art galleries and historical buildings. Suddenly I’m in Charring cross. 

And still I move, the scent of thousands of cigarettes, spilled drinks and vomit coming up from the concrete beneath me. The smell of the sea coming off the river as I get nearer and nearer. And then there is the Eye, looming up into the sky, across the river. I climb the steps and cross the bridge, letting the sea air fill my lungs, fill my belly, fill my heart. 

The view is surreal, almost like gazing at a painting. The Houses of Parliament reflect the colour of the sky and the sky reflects the colour of the Houses and everything is golden and light. The tourist stop to take photos or watch street performers. The lovers stop to gaze at the setting sun. The commuters don’t stop, knowing the route they are on and that it is home that they seek. 

And still I go with the flow and feel that pulse pulling me forward and onward. The ground is familiar beneath my feet and, as I look at the double decker buses and the red phone booths and the vendors selling pasties, I think about how these things aren’t just symbols of a city as seen from afar. They are associations with the place I’ve lived for two and a half years. They are the stuff the city is built on. The epitome of what makes it what it is. Just as the diversity of languages and cultures defines it. Just as the familiar sound of a train on underground rails is distinctly this place. Just as the giant billboard ads for books make it what it is. Just like the crowds on Southbank on a Saturday are what makes Southbank what it is any other day of the week. 

And in the distance the dome of St. Paul’s looms large and in a moment - in a twenty minute walk, a walk I know, a walk that is familiar - I have also seen Trafalgar Square and Nelson’s Column and crossed the Thames and seen a dozen other things which these tourists are taking in for the first and maybe only time. 

But for me these places are now familiar. Familiar and yet still amazing. Still inspiring and able to fill me with awe. 

And this is London as I know it.

 And it’s dirty and cramped and the crowds rarely pay attention to the individuals within them. 

And it’s glorious and full of history and the past speaks from the buildings and the monuments scattered throughout. 

And it’s sleek and modern and moving forward and full of opportunity. 

In the distance the Shard, nearly complete, juts high into the skyline. Already it is becoming part of the pulse of the city, just as I have become a member of it. Just as I have come to find it familiar and identify as a Londoner. 

I am still Canadian and I’m still a Calgarian but I’m also a Calgarian, Canadian Londoner because I know the colours of the tube lines off by heart. I know the way to London Bridge from Covent Garden without checking a map. I know where the crowds will gather and where I’ll be able to walk unhindered by the throng. I know it, in my bones, in my pulse, through the concrete beneath my feet. 

Priorities and shifts

Since I finished my tarot card series I haven't managed to have much in the way of art to use as images on this blog. Naughty of me but I figure I can post pretty pictures I've taken of nice things and that'll do too...but don't think of me as a photographer. I do like photography in a 'my camera does all the work and my photos look spanking good when the light is right' sort of way, but start talking to be about the ISO and the filter and the zoom and I sort of glaze over. It's something I leave to the very talented photographers in my life. Besides, I have a lot of other things to get on with.

Which sort of presents a problem and was my round-about way of getting to the point of this particular post.

I have a lot of passions in life. I have a lot of ideas and creativity which sometimes feels so pent up that I can't seem to find enough ways to get it all out.

I love making costumes. I love designing and conceptualizing them and then making them real and wearable and magnificent.

I also love to sculpt and have a knack for it. I've often wondered about doing something on a larger scale and living in London can make me ache at the thought of it. Seeing a stunning stone dragon or the smooth, elegant curves of a sculpted silhouette makes my fingers twitch and my imagination run wild. Oh, the things I could do. And on a smaller scale too. I discovered Netsuke and would adore creating my own small creature to hold in my hand, carved with patience and love.

I want to revisit animation - as 'Affinity' gets more screenings I consider all the other ideas I have busting to be let out. A few cell animations, classic hand drawn ones which I think would be novel to try and fun to promote.

And of course there's my writing. I'm rapidly co-editing one of my novels, having another edited by a professional and getting ideas for new stuff which I'm jotting down here and there. I'm finding myself lost in the prose I've been dreaming of, wondering where to take it next and itching to give it another go.

Finally there is my painting - custom shoes and my tarot series, not to forget my Buddhist inspired work.

All jumbled up together these things feel like they should all come first, should all get my focus and time. But there are only so many hours in the day and unfortunately, at the moment a lot of them are spent doing menial administrative tasks so I can pay the bills and fund the supplies for this stuff.

Which is why I'm working on a shift. I'm evolving what I do to survive financially so that it not only meets something I'm passionate about, but gives me the freedom and flexibility (and funding) to continue with and truly pursue everything I want in good time. I may not be about to step into a studio with a chunk of granite awaiting my imagination. I may not be hunched over a drawing table putting the final touches on an animation. I may not be opening a box with a hard copy of one of my novels contained with in. I may not have that mascot costume I always wear entertain my cousin. But I do have the desire for it and that gives me a lot of motivation.

This motivation I have has led me to really look at my life, what comes to me naturally and what my options are for fostering that whilst creating a sustainable income. That was how I decided to look into this Life Coaching business, to explore it further. Now I'm realising that I need to look at how I'm using tools at hand, such as this blog, to promote myself. I've presented myself as a creative (which I am), but now I want to show my professional self.

This gives me a lot to think about as this blog has been an incredibly fantastic tool not only for sharing my art and writing, but for making connections and for giving me a sense of confidence in the talents I have. To that end I don't suppose it would be too different to use it for my life coaching, when I start to develop my career and put myself out there as such. The key difference will be creating confidence in others for their own incredible talents and limitless potential.

I'm mulling all this over and, fortunately, I have time to as my course doesn't start until the autumn. But in the mean time I'm practicing focusing my energy onto this one very important thing with the fact that it will be a fun, sustainable career choice for me that will allow me a great amount of freedom, as long as I go about it effectively. I know from experience that spreading yourself too thin is never effective, unless you want to suffer a nervous breakdown.

People aren't marmite.

London Journal - Urban Physic Garden

The first thing I noticed about London when I came here was the general lack of greenery. In Calgary we have boulevards on most streets and almost every house has a back and front yard, most of which are twice the size of anything you would encounter in London.

This lack of greenery was a bit jarring for me, having been born and raised in a city which lay at the foothills of the Rockies and grown up in a community nestled between the river, a wild lands reserve and the city bird sanctuary.

But I've made it a point to find what greenery can be found in this incredibly concreted land I currently reside in, so when a friend invited me to investigate a new Urban Physic Garden near Southwark underground I happily went along.
It was a bit damp but not too chilly and getting there was easy enough. Just a brief five minute walk from Southwark station and we'd found it nestled at the base of the railway tracks.

Laid out like a hospital, the plants are divided according to 'ward', each corresponding with the part of the body they are most beneficial to. Certain plants pop up in more than one ward (rosemary, for example) and a few appear to be unassigned, growing in neat rows in a boxed off area on the ground.

The entire space has been decorated in clever and creative ways, from tin pots welded onto odd twisted sculptured legs to a mish-mash of two by fours nailed along a wall to make a jaunty shelving unit. I quite enjoyed the creative lettuce wall and medical cross made of moss.
It was a lovely little pocket to find and yet another reason why I find London so fascinating. There seem to be these incredible pockets of ideas, inspiration and positive energy all over the city. It's definitely inspired me. Thought I'm by no means a gardener (I simply can't commit to it) I am now eager to learn more about identifying certain plants and am considering some things to add to my own little herb garden, not to mention the ideas it has given me for lovely sculptured garden decorations.

Aimless

When working on my tarot paintings I felt like I had a pre-determined To Do list. Whether it was taping off canvases, researching other designs or original symbolism, painting the background, foreground or animals, I was always, always, always busy with something. Each week my life revolved around sleeping, eating, working and painting. I blogged and tweeted about it, gave out business cards, did tarot readings and generally was stuck in.

When the project was finished I cried, not because I was going to miss it or because it was finally done, but because I'd spent so long with it as a constant that it was this immensely emotional thing that I'd accomplished. The series had been a form of therapy for me, begun shortly after my life had taken a serious drop-kicking. My future lay before me as a blank space where, before, there had been an entire (albeit dismal) life supposedly planned out.

Initially all that blank space was terrifying. Then I realised that it was a grand opportunity. As I rediscovered who I was and everything I loved about myself, I began to learn some very important lessons. The first lesson was that no one, no matter what, should ever come before my own sense of self and happiness. I need to be the most important person in my own life and love myself best before I could possibly offer the same to anyone else. Part of that was doing things which gave me a sense of purpose and fed my passion for creativity.

My tarot project was the initial step towards living my own dreams, rather than helping other people achieve theirs to the detriment of my own.

Now that the project is done and I have a very strong sense of purpose in my life I have begun to feel a sort of aimlessness. I have a lot of energy that once went into painting for several hours each week. I'm putting a lot of it into editing my writing, preparing for my August Apricot Gallery show and occasionally dancing in public, but none of that takes up the same intense commitment of my time as the painting did.

So I've spent the last few weeks looking at my life stretching out before me and wondering exactly where it's going to go. I have learned so much about myself through the duration of working on those paintings. For example, I know I actually quite like an indeterminate future. Whereas before I felt the need to plot out every single aspect of my life with a sort of written in stone precision, I now love the sense of adventure which comes from not having my mind made up about anything in particular.

But then, there are always going to be certain constants. Whether I am published or not, whether my paintings sell or not, I will always be a writer and an artist. I also have a wonderful little fur-child in my life and to a certain extent my future must take her into consideration in all things. On top of that my family has expanded to include a talented photographer/chef/gardener and her two little fur-children.

I also know I am naturally a little nomadic. I will always have a strong sense of home and where my roots are but I need to explore and wander. I learn best by doing and the greatest discoveries come from seeing different places, meeting new people and trying new things. No matter how comforting a space or stable a job, my own natural spirit will always tell me when enough is enough and I need to move on, to try something different, learn something new and explore somewhere else.

So essentially I need a source of income which I can take on the road. I need a job which can evolve as I do, change as my life does and fit around my circumstances as they come to be on that fabulous blank canvas which is the potential of anyone's life.

One of my dearest friends has recently completed a Spiritual Counselling course and she and I often discuss the topics of her classes and the assignments she's had. For months now we have discussed these things and every time I've been acutely aware of how much it interests me. I've also always been aware of how often friends or family tell me I inspire them. I do this because I truly do have the knack for seeing the potential in another human being, sometimes to my own detriment, but also because I believe in genuine appreciation. When I see someone's strength or passion for something I see no reason why it shouldn't be encouraged. We are all pure potential at the same time as we are often our own worst enemy. As someone intimately acquainted with anxiety and depression, I fully understand how easy it is to talk ourselves out of accomplishing very great things. At the same time, I appreciate that anything I've accomplished in my life has been attributed to being able to see the reflection of myself in those I love. I know I've accomplished a great many things but I doubt I'd have been able to do it if not for the encouragement and belief from outside members...and at times the attitude of 'Stop whinging and do it already'.

I am a firm believer that we can all use an outside perspective and as such I have decided I would quite like to try my hand at Life Coaching. Not because I think I have life figured out. Far from it. I believe that the older I get the more I realise the less I know. I just know that I do so love helping someone see the potential that they know is there but just can't quite access. I would love to offer the same encouragement, compassion and at times, Zen-like butt kicking which I've received from the likes of my psychologist, mother or best friend.

We all need to make a living and if that living involves using a talent or skill then all the better. I'm quite excited for this decision and am looking forward to seeing which colours it takes on the palette and how it might turn out on that blank canvas.

Becoming whole

People seem to spend a lot of time separating their lives into categories according to what they think defines them and what they definitely don't want to define them. I know I do it, at least. I like to say that my job, what I do during the day, is something I'm good at and pays the bills, but it's not 'me'. My career, my calling, who I really am is an artist, a writer, someone creative.

So I go about my life downplaying my day job, excluding it entirely sometimes, to such an extent that people don't even realise what I do.

Recently that all began to change as a new line manager was hired. This man is incredibly good at his job. I think he could teach people how to manage if he wasn't so busy doing it himself.

He read my CV, listened to me when I told him this is not my dream job and there are no ladders I wish to climb in the charity sector. I've done my not-for-profit time. I gave my heart and soul to a brilliant organisation which has gained an unstoppable momentum. I've been there, done that. I'm ready for something different.

But my CV is now full of years of not-for-profit work and it was that which got me this job in the first place. What's kept me at the job has been the slow (sometimes agonizingly so) but steady changes to my role which have allowed me to be more and more creative. At first it was little things - designing a 'merchandise' catalogue, creating a layout template for a registration form, having input into the website. But recently, thanks to the best manager I've ever had the good luck of working with, those changes have been more significant.

As a result, I've been starting to think of this job less as something separate from me, and more as a place where I can express my creativity and earn a pay cheque for it.

This change in my usual resistance came to light on the weekend when I attended the London Marathon. This is arguably the most famous marathon in the world, albeit one I'd never heard of until I started at the charity. Of course, why would I? My athletic interests include things like Belly Baseball, Kick The Can and Dodge Ball, stopping short of anything truly competitive or physically demanding. The entire idea of running 26 miles, never mind on concrete through the streets of London, makes my legs hurt and my lungs twinge. A runner I am not.

But an artist, and someone with great enthusiasm, I am. So, this Sunday, for the first time, I incorporated my art into my work. I attended the marathon to cheer on those running in aid of the charity, to show support and gratitude for the money they've raised and the months they've trained, and I went in costume. My zebra costume, to be exact. And it was fun to be asked about what I was wearing - a vest supporting the charity and a costume I made myself for Mardi Gras some years ago. I handed out my business card to a few interested people, shared details about the team running for the charity and felt quite whole. Quite a lot like me, as I am. Not like charity Kait or professional Kait, nor even just like artist Kait.

I was just me, through and through.

And I have to say the best bit, the bit of the day which really put a grin on my face, happened as I was walking up the street to my house.

I'd left for Tower Hill at 9:00, a trolley loaded with supplies in tow. I stood for hours along a crowded street in direct sunlight in a plaster mask. I shouted my throat hoarse. I walked through the thousands of spectators and caught crowded busy tubes, all the while towing a cart. I didn't eat well. I left to go home at 5:00, to endure more crowded tubes.

As I was finally nearing home, the contact lense in my right eye sticking and burning, my feet screaming to be released from my hot, sweaty Doc Martens, a man driving past pulled over. He leapt out of his car and crossed the street and I became aware that he was talking to me. I turned and looked at him, bleary eyed and dazed, "Sorry?"

"Did you come from the marathon?" he asked again.

"I did, yes."

"You didn't run in that, did you?"

"No, no," I laughed, "I didn't run in this. I was cheering."

"Well you look bloody fantastic. I just wanted to tell you," he grinned, shaking my hand with both of his, the compliment genuine and heartfelt. And then he turned, walked back to his car, got inside and drove away.

And I grinned through all the pain and exhaustion and hunger (and by this point, a very full bladder) because I looked bloody fantastic, enough for someone to stop their journey to come tell me so.

To Do List

I have a lot of ideas and a lot of things I want to accomplish. As a result I tend to spread myself too thin, putting my fingers in so many pies that I find I can't reach and ultimately I end of taking my shoes and socks off so I can pop some toes in too. But then I can't walk so I don't get anywhere.

Good metaphor.

So I make To Do lists. I love my to do lists because they organise my thoughts and when a task is done I get great satisfaction from making a tick next to it and running the ink of my pen through it. There's something very satisfying about completing a task.

I've decided to focus on the above To Do list for February. This is just my creative work, mind. I have another list of domestic duties - laundry, purging my wardrobe, kitty litter - and I create a list daily for my day job.

I like that drawing up my creative To Do list has helped me work towards completing one of the items on it. And now that this blog update is done I must away to tackle the rest.

Being a Twit

I've been using Twitter for about two years now. Initially I was quite dubious about it.I figured that Twitter would just be a constant Facebook status stream and given that so many people use their status for voyeuristic purposes - for which I simply don't have time - I couldn't see the point. But it kept coming up as more and more people started tweeting and eventually I signed up with the mind to use it only for promoting my art. Since then I've come to understand that Twitter is a global conversation through which connections can be made, ideas shared and services rendered.

Recently I was tweeting with a fellow artist who let me know about how he likes to send art in the post to people. We got to tweeting about how he does it and yesterday I got this lovely round 'post card' through the letterbox.

I'm hugely excited to send him something of mine and I love that I can exchange art and ideas with fellow creatives all over the planet. I do think there is a noticeable decline in our ability to relate person to person as a result of the interweb and texting, but by doing these little things which involve personal detail and attention we can continue to have a real connection with all the people we share the planet with.

So you're an artist?

My psychologist is more like a business and life coach than the typical stereotype of a 'shrink'.

If there even is a typical stereotype.

But I digress.

My psychologist twigged me onto a great Blog by a fellow artist who is also a musician and author. Summer Pierre is author of The Artist in the Office, a book my psychologist insisted I seek out. I'm ever so glad that I did!

I read the opening pages aloud to my partner. She cut me off part-way through to ask if I was certain the book had not been written by myself. I laughed but it's true that, as I read Summer's words I felt a strong sense of camaraderie.

This was all just before the holidays and I put the book to one side. I wanted to wait until I was back at my day job and more able to appreciate the worksheets provided throughout the book.

This morning, in the few minutes I had after getting ready and before I must leave to catch my train I curled up on my day-bed, The Artist in the Office and a pencil in hand. I didn't get far before I found my assignment for the day:

Evidence Collecting.

I actually ended up thinking about it as more of a treasure hunt but the outcome is the same. Spend the day collecting things you encounter and paste them to a sheet of paper or in a journal. Below is my end product, of which I am very pleased! It's a peculiar mis-match of my daily tasks and observations.

The other assignment I went for today was playing I-Spy on the train. As I was alone I needed to make it a personal challenge so I decided to pick a colour to seek out. I did a quick scan of the car to see what colour stuck out. There was a lot of red and a lot of navy and then my eyes fell on the headphones of a rather beefy gentleman sitting across from me. The long and twisted chord leading down to his black iPhone stood out quite noticeably against his black shirt, hoodie and sweatpants as it was bright orange.

I wrote the headphones down in my journal and began seeking out more orange. Initially it was quite difficult. I spotted an orange pencil in the hand of a man sitting further down the car. He was working on a Sudoku puzzle or a crossword. Then I recorded that the London Overground is shown as a double orange line on the tube map. Next to me on the seat was a crumple Oyster Card registration information pamphlet, coloured a light orange hue.

Once orange was stuck in my head it became much easier. There are the squares in the pattern of the Northern Line seats, the date line on the cover of an Evening Standard, the orange stripes on my rainbow scarf, the arrows and word 'Open' by the doors, Ryan Gosling's shirt on a movie poster when we stopped at Balham and of course, the scrolling text which announces what station we're coming up to and where the train terminates.

Suddenly orange was as abundant as the navy and red had been. I filled an entire page of my journal and could have filled another but my stop was coming up.

This book is turning out to be quite fun. I'm excited to play I-Spy tomorrow and to read on and discover more clever ideas for keeping my creativity flowing whilst working an almost entirely uncreative job.

The Tower

I finished the text today.

I definitely feel that my foundations have been shaken up, a few knocked down and better ones are being built in their place.

The biggest development in my life at the moment has been the move from temp to full-time. I haven't really mentioned on my blog what pays the bills because it's not really me and of little importance. It has been a job, there to provide a pay cheque and little else. I think I've come to expect working for anyone else to always mean that I'm going to be no more than a body filling a role, performing a function. Any ideas or initiative I've had have gone unnoticed or actively squashed. Other than my role at the Youth Animation Project and my first job out of High School I have not been in a work environment that cared to foster my skills, my passions and my goals.

The big shift that has occurred with this job is that it no longer feels like it doesn't tie in with my creative side. My role is shifting and with it comes a strong sense of freedom. I may be working for someone else but they actually recognise me for who I am. They recognise what I can offer as an artist and a writer, not just as someone with strong organisational skills and a decent work ethic.

It's a nice feeling, being appreciated in this way. I don't feel like this is just a pay cheque anymore. It's starting to feel like an opportunity, a place for me to try new skills and strengthen the old. And if anything, it's becoming something that is tearing down a lot of ideas I had about myself. I once told my partner that I feel unemployable because I always have an opinion and even if I go to great lengths to express it in an open and honest way, it's been met with resistance. It has gotten me into trouble and made me feel as if I was wrong for suggesting improved or different ways of doing things for the sake of productivity. I'd given up on ever being given a chance to grow within the confines of a corporation or business, accepting that the only way I was going to do what I love would be to do it all on my own.

I like surprises. I like having someone tell me they have confidence in me and that they want to see what I'm going to do. I like hearing that what I'm going to learn at Chelsea can be applied in a professional setting right away. I like hearing that it's in the interest of my employer to encourage my skills and talents for my benefit as much as theirs.

The best part is knowing that my creative expression won't just be limited to painting and writing on my evenings and weekends. I'm even more excited about this course now as a result of this new recognition and encouragement.