I know it’s only April, but the second half of 2016 is going to get crazy. I’m having wrist and elbow surgery in the next few weeks. That’s going to be super exciting…but in 6 months, it will be like nothing had ever happened. At least, that’s what the surgeon says. The first couple of months will apparently be rough – like can’t pick up a glass of water or lift over a pound. That, my friends, will put something of a hitch in my creative giddyup. Yes, I can (and may) dust off the tambour frame and do some left-handed embroidery like I did last summer. I’m on a scribal and hand-sewing roll over here. You must forgive my pouting and foot stomping. In my head, I will be teaching myself to do calligraphy with my toes and never getting to be a Laurel because my hand won’t work right ever again. And then I’ll never be employed, and we will go bankrupt and lose the house, and rats will bite our faces in our cardboard alley house, all because I needed 15 minutes of wrist and elbow surgery. Kevin tells me I worry too much and looks at me like I’m crazy when I tell him these things. BUT ONLY ONE OF US IS GOOD AT PREPARING FOR EVERY TERRIBLE EVENTUALITY, AND IT IS DEFINITELY NOT HIM. Apparently, they didn’t cover that in his PhD program.
I’ve decided to spend my non-arting time building relationships with people in my kingdom, instead of being so achievement-oriented. And do research, since I figured out how to impersonate my husband in the library system and get things through ILL. (I know, I’m such a badass.) So, before there is a rogue laser surgery accident that cuts off my arm like Luke Skywalker, I am only doing the art I want to do for fun. (Plus, a couple of scrolls for the kingdom, because I feel guilty only doing what I want to do for my own enjoyment….maybe I should go back to therapy.) For example, I have tortured myself and figured out how to warp my fancy, more period loom, and it only took six months off my life. Now I can weave with uneven tension and raggedy edges! So proud. SO PROUD.
Then, there’s job stuff. Pulling up roots in Austin and moving to Savannah wasn’t easy. August will mark the end of our second year here, and the second was definitely better than the first in many ways. In other ways, it’s been brutal – like when it comes to finding work for me. Coddled in my special Austin-y bubble, I had no idea a decade in internet marketing wouldn’t just let me work anywhere. I’ve wrestled with what to do instead. Hundreds of job applications, random part-time/temporary gigs, a lot of volunteer work, and a lot of expensive testing later, I’ve come to a few conclusions. I like helping professions the most. I would hate being a school teacher. Marketing work is something I’m damn good at but carves away at my soul. Perhaps I should have listened to my lifelong love of medical things and science and mostly-nonexistent squick factor a long time ago, because it turns out that it’s pretty easy to turn your existing bachelors into a BSRN if you had really good grades. I could have been earning a lot more money doing something I’m certain I’d really like.
Because it’s always better to figure out something late than to never figure it out, I’m heading back to school to be a nurse. I have a couple of semesters of prerequisites to do first. Let us all pray to our preferred deity that I get A’s, because I’m probably going to die of anxious flailing if I screw this up and have to figure out what I want to be when I grow up one more damn time. My type-A self is already not dealing well with the uncertainty. Like, I don’t know if I’ll qualify to get into nursing school, and I spent an hour this morning worrying over whether or not I should pursue a nurse practitioner program or a physician’s assistant one once I have enough years of clinical experience to go to grad school. I come by this flavor of crazy honestly and am not alone. My BFF/Laurel is currently back in nursing school to renew her license, and she’s taking an optional final because she has a 99.3 in a class and wants the hundred. I would take the 99.3, so I’m obviously way less high strung. Super chill over here…yup.