Happiness is a Bag of M&Ms

[angela_n_hunt]

Or so the Bean thinks, and really, I can’t argue with her much.

As you can see, giant baby is giant and not really a baby anymore. I swear she grows right in front of your eyes. It’s like time lapse without the time lapse.

* * *

*blink blink*

I know I have a lot going on right now, but my brain is gapping so hard on talking about it, it’s almost comedy. Except I’d like to be able to think, y’know?

It’s not fatigue. I’ve been getting enough sleep. It’s overwhelm. The husband is in Crunch for E3 right now, which means that the household responsibilities all fall squarely on me.

Okay, let’s just go through the usual list and hope I don’t bore you to tears.

New novel (Unformed) is almost at 10K words, and will probably hit that today, at which point, I will start actively breaking it and imposing some structure on it. I still need to do research, but I’m getting to the point where research matters less than plotting. The worldbuilding involved is a little weirder (for me) as I’m venturing into areas that I don’t know much about and will probably screw up righteously. Lovely thing about fiction though. I can make shit up to fit my thesis.

It’s also interesting in that I’ve never written an atheist before and she’s a lot of fun to write.

I’m also gearing up for the next photo shoot and have been pleasantly and delightedly overwhelmed with the influx of people willing to model for me and my particular brand of photographic madness. At this rate, I will actively have to solicit an assistant, because there’s so much going on in my head. I’m also going to have to save for a babysitter and a studio, because some of it is only possible in a controlled setting and I need my make up artist, who also happens to be the Ant.

Lots of moving parts. It is not unlike juggling flaming chainsaws.

And then there’s Vaudeville Goes to Hell, which is starting to scare the crap out of me, which is a good sign. If it didn’t scare me, it wouldn’t be worth doing.

There’s more going on than that.

And under it all, working on making my exit from the dayjob, because every day it becomes more and more untenable. Not because it’s a bad job. Because it is so out of alignment with who I really am.

Pro-tip for those of you starting out in the world: if you are an artist, DO NOT GET A FUCKING ADMIN JOB. EVER. It will fuck you up. I have wasted too much of my life being someone else’s bitch. I wish I’d been brave enough to go to LA when I was in my 20s and slept on someone’s couch and taken that job at Paramount when it was offered.

Be brave. Feel the fear and do it anyway. Whatever you do, do not fucking play it safe.

Or you’ll end up like me in your 40s with too many regrets.

The flipside is, it’s never too late to be whatever you wanted to be when you were a kid. But who wants a consolation prize?

Fucking carpe diem. And don’t let anyone talk you out of it.

*terrorist fist bump*

Originally published at ANGELA N. HUNT. You can comment here or there.