Pixie II

Pixie II
Originally uploaded by quennessa

8x10 $20

11x14 $40

She has the best expression here...

And this is the last one for the Spring Print Sale, folks. If you didn't see your favorite, just ping me at angela.n.hunt at gmail.com.

* * *

Landed a good freelance gig last night and a boutique in Oregon wants to carry some of my photography on consignment. And another client paid. It was all good news that I needed.

I've got paperwork together for today and I've got another long day of work at the two jobs and tonight I've got tax work. For all I'm doing, you'd think I'd have more to show for it. And maybe I will eventually, but right now? Not so much.

In the meantime, I'm cold and it's gray outside. June Gloom a full month early again.

So that's the update.

Yeah, What Hugh Said

Go here:

http://www.gapingvoid.com/Moveable_Type/archives/000932.html

Read this. Read this especially if you are a Creative of any variety.

I keep coming back to this piece over and over again and it's not just because Hugh shares a first name with my late father.

I keep coming back to it, because every time I do, I find that it's truer than the last time I read it. If truer is even a word, but work with me for a minute.

The reality is that I got sidetracked lately.

Yes.

I was doing work that I enjoyed. It was making me happy. But the pay... Well, moving on. I'm going to be looking for a new full time dayjob in the very near future if this week continues to tank the way that it is.

Don't get me wrong. I've been feeling some serious grief over this turn of events.

And then I come back to this one entry of Hugh's.

I keep thinking about the Astronaut Farmer, a film that was seriously underrated. (Don't get me wrong, it's fundamentally flawed, but...)

Right now, all I hear in my head is, no matter what, no matter if I fucking crash my rocket into a gods be damned field...

I am dragging my mutilated body out of the wreckage and making and building another motherfucking rocket. No matter what.

Because being Creative isn't about what They want. It's about playing to the Audience that still lives in my head. The Audience that *still* thinks Tarzan and John Carter are the cats meow. The Audience that can't wait for me to shoot one more photograph, paint one more painting, write one more page, even if that Audience in my head is the only Audience *that will ever see that piece in the light of day.*

Because when I first started writing, I wasn't writing for Them.

I was writing for me.

And reading Hugh, I remember that.