The one and only reason I despise working in the arts:
In-laws and dear old friends with no art degree or background and zero cultural interest like to give career suggestions based on the fact that their boyfriend's cousin's ex-fiance's nephew knows someone who knows someone who almost sold a painting once, and thought I might be interested in their nine to five job that nobody else wants in some suburban town I never heard of on the other side of the galaxy.
If I was unhappy with my work, I'd say so. Maybe they're just unsatisfied with their jobs, so they figure I must be too. Bummer.
Anyway, the show went well. A lady in the crowd grabbed my arm and told me I was the "best in the bunch." Aside from the creepy arm groping, it was one of many nice compliments I received, leaving me grateful to live according to my own vision, unconventional as it may sometimes seem to those less...dare I say, enlightened?
Life is too short to be sheeple. Do what makes your brain dance.
4:35 p.m. - 2009-04-28