A Professional Dilemma -or- And Now We Wait

A week ago today I met with the Designer's assistant.

Yesterday I met with the Designer's Managing Director and briefly met with the Designer herself.

Today I was asked to meet with the Designer's Production Manager this coming Monday.

The expectation is that I begin working for the Designer no later than Wednesday of next week.

This gives me all of one day (one!) to let the President know I will no longer be working for her.

Are we beginning to see the reason for my present joyful angst?

Having deferred to a small number of confidants re: WhatTheHellShouldDo I've come to the following three conclusions:

1. This new position is an opportunity I cannot afford- financially, ambitiously, psychologically- to deny.

2. My present position, while gratifying of some of my artistic wants, is not as much of an avenue toward living-making as it is a temporary means of (barely) supporting myself.

3. I must act with love and equanimity- but also cunning and wit- in ALL professional and life endeavors.

So here I stand.
And I shall continue standing until next Monday afternoon.

Final Round: I'm expecting a KO

Today I met the Designer herself.

She seemed in all ways agreeable although not anything less than fully impressive.

I can only hope to one day be described in the same manner.

It would seem she appreciated both my resume and my demeanor. Her managing director requested my references and told me to expect a call today or tomorrow.

To think of the number of times I've been on this very place- at this precise juncture- only to have on small thing fall out of place is quite frankly maddening.
Thus I've elected to put full stock in the vitality of my instincts and trust that this is meant to be.

I mean after all...

...I'm the Champion.

Morning Glory: A Short, Short Story

Marva Hootsman awoke with a start. The digital clock on her bedside table read "3:00am". Her grandmother's voice rang through her groggy thoughts, "when we wake at the witching hour, we wait and pray for God's good graces."

Struck with the terror of her Grandmother's superstitions, Marva pulled the sheets decisively under her chin, knuckles white with absolute resolve.

Outside her window a tree's dry branches shucked against one another. An owl let out a mournful hoot. Rubber tires upset gravel.

Marva had been trying to go back to sleep for approximately four minutes when the meteor slammed through her ceiling making a crater of her home, her body, her dreams and ambitions.
And when the bright light of impact faded she was with God.

Climbing back on the horse

Dear blog,

It's certainly been a hot minute since we've made memories together.
I'll admit that I've been somewhat distracted over the last - oh, I don't know- Year! But those dog days are over and I'm now in it to win it.

Let's kick it like picket fence neighbors.

Warmly,
Noah