On Wednesday, October 13, 2010, I “lose” my job.
My first reaction is to “find” another one.
Instead, I go home, take a nap.
Instead, I go home, take a nap.
I wake up just in time to keep an appointment with an artist to discuss his upcoming projects.
As we toss ideas back and forth while sitting in the lobby of Yerba Buena Center for the Arts, I recognize that familiar feeling »> the gentle, insistent buzz of a production coming to life.
We walk across to MoAD, the near-future site of the production and my excitement grows as the artist is inspired by the current exhibition.
On paper, the exhibit is truly difficult to describe but completely makes sense in person and the artist immediately draws connections between potential movement and the artifacts on display.
As we toss ideas back and forth while sitting in the lobby of Yerba Buena Center for the Arts, I recognize that familiar feeling »> the gentle, insistent buzz of a production coming to life.
We walk across to MoAD, the near-future site of the production and my excitement grows as the artist is inspired by the current exhibition.
On paper, the exhibit is truly difficult to describe but completely makes sense in person and the artist immediately draws connections between potential movement and the artifacts on display.
The sudden appearance of the Programs Assistant draws me into a conversation on feasibility but my buoyancy remains.
I have just been “released” from 60-hour weeks. I suddenly have all the time in the world to make the buzz a tangible reality.
I have just been “released” from 60-hour weeks. I suddenly have all the time in the world to make the buzz a tangible reality.
The landscape is filling up with stories of people pushed into answering
“WHAT IF?” after being fired or laid off.
“WHAT IF?” after being fired or laid off.
This is my time to make see. think. dance. be what it couldn’t be while I worked full-time.
I part ways with the artist and head to a friend’s house for tea, sympathy, and computer access to file my unemployment claim.
I part ways with the artist and head to a friend’s house for tea, sympathy, and computer access to file my unemployment claim.
MY TIME IS NOW.
Categories:
Things Blown Apart
