Holy crap, how much can go wrong in a month?
Answer: pretty much everything. Thankfully it's starting to die down.
I've had two jobs for a few months now, and if you can recall from your multijob days, it sucks. I'm working days at Lansing Community College for the first part of the week, and Midtown Brewing Company nights at the end of the week. The MBC job is the killer here. I'm slaving away back in the Dish Tank. Compared to some places it's probably heaven, and I'm so lucky to be working there, it could be a lot worse blah blah blah, but whatever initial enthusiasm I had has completely drained away, replaced with a black hole of misery. I don't mesh with the staff, who could be politely described as "made for the job"; the hours - 5pm to Ass O'clock in the morning - make me feel like a thumb-bone in an angle-grinder; and in general I feel like I'm spinning my wheels. My buddy Joe recently asked me, "Have the words "overqualified" ever occurred to you?" and I responded, "Like a neon sign the size of the universe - you have to back up a few light-years before you can read it." I'm starting to feel my oats.
I stepped into this mess with both eyes open. Basically, I needed the second job to help pay for the house Joe & I are renting. There was a lot of back rent, and I wanted to help defray that cost. I don't regret that decision at all; it took a while, but we're finally getting it under control. But for a while it was hell. I felt like I was throwing money at a problem that was going nowhere; my life was going nowhere; I was spinning my wheels in a town with few prospects for an artist. Also, it was winter, so there's that. I get pretty stubborn about things, and it was sort of a pride-thing not to give up, not to say, "Oi, wait a minute, what am I doing?" It is gratifying to put your nose to the grindstone and just push through, no matter what happens.
As long as you don't look up, and realize you have your nose in a grindstone.
The upshot is, I've been slipping at my LCC job; I can't handle everything that I have to do. I'm a combination intern/crux of an entire obsolete system which the instructors depend on for their performance reviews and hence their jobs, yet I can't seem to get any interest or help until I screw up. Oh, then the hammer comes down. My director called me everything short of a lazy sonuvabitch. I screwed up, I admit; but part of what I was doing was simply trying to survive the monotony and deal with the fact that we're moving from a paper system to an online system, and therefore we can't purchase any more material. Fuck. So with the semester well under way, I'm trying to scramble, and everything's falling apart, it's the Feast of St. Murphy out here, and the directors and supervisors are sitting at their fucking desks, complaining about their kids. Seriously, that's all they seem to do. Or got to meetings. This is called "work", apparently: complain about your kids, go to meetings. The only people who seem to do anything are the data guys, bless their hearts, who sit for hours staring at computer screens. I really feel for them. Meanwhile, I'm trying to do everything else (yes, get the coffee and fill the dishwasher, too!) with one arm tied behind my back and a Union that's got me locked into a paygrade with no chance of advancement. Want a raise? Talk to the Union! Guffaw laugh snort choke. But hey kid, at least you've got your benefits. You should be grateful. A Job's A Job. Blah fuckin blah.
So yeah, a bit of a professional crisis here - and it gets worse. I hate to admit it, but I finally have to face facts: Lansing itself is a grindstone. There's nothing here for creative people. Yes, I know there's artist groups, and art galleries, and creative companies - but believe me, these establishments are a) closed to actual talent and b) all about the dollars. And yes, it's the same all over, blah blah blah, but Lansing is a bit of a special case. It's a gray town, a quicksand town, a trap town. I'm not sure what it is - the Spiritus Populi, maybe: individually there are a lot of interesting, enthusiastic, creative people; but get them in a group in Lansing and suddenly they become inert. Initial idealism quickly crumbles into apathy. Ask them why, and they're never sure, usually they're "busy" or "can't do much, since they've got kids" or any of a thousand other excuses for not exercising their creative potential. The gray angel Apatheia hovers over the city, watching carefully for any small spark of initiative or rage, and sprinkling asbestos over it.
Where am I going to go? It really depends. I'm putting together my portfolio as a "comic book", and I'm going to mail it out to as many interesting-looking graphic design firms as I can find. It doesn't matter what state it's in. For the longest time I was adamantly opposed to leaving Michigan to look for work; this is home to me, my family's all here, and I felt like leaving was a sort of cop-out. I figured, if I can't make it here, how can I make it in New York or Portland or Austin or whatever Trendy City of the Month the young kids are talking about right now (I just threw up in my mouth a little, writing that sentence). I've met people who came back to Michigan from New York, and I don't like them one little bit - they confuse "clever" with "cryptic", put on airs, wear scarves. Talk breezily about their therapists, or how "overrated" New York is, or talk about New York, or New York, or New York New York New York. And obsessively, obsessively watch stupid videos on their fucking smartphones. Everybody does that, sure; but in New Yorkers it's taken to an obscene level - you can't have a conversation, it's just one fucking YouTube video after another being shoved in your face, and if you're not interested, you pretty much just sit there and fume. Chicagoans are a lot better, on the surface they're weary and disinterested but once you break the shell they're actually kind.
Portland I just...hate on principle.
But I've come to realize that these places, these big cities, are where creative people can actually find their niche - where they can actually matter. It's awful, the way they act as brain vacuums on the hinterlands; I want to resist that terrible suction, but in the end you have to give in to it. Better a small fish in a big pond, where you can probably find some rocks to hang out in with the other small fish, than a big fish in a drying puddle.
Anyway, so that's what I'm going through right now - maybe some of you can relate. And yes, I feel like a failure. I've failed to pull together an art career in Lansing. The mind-boggling thing is that it's tougher out here than in the big cities, easier for young artists to get crushed down. Tucking tail and getting out of Dodge is a shameful thing, but I feel like I have to do it - otherwise I'll just keep on spinning my wheels.
- Rick Out.
Answer: pretty much everything. Thankfully it's starting to die down.
I've had two jobs for a few months now, and if you can recall from your multijob days, it sucks. I'm working days at Lansing Community College for the first part of the week, and Midtown Brewing Company nights at the end of the week. The MBC job is the killer here. I'm slaving away back in the Dish Tank. Compared to some places it's probably heaven, and I'm so lucky to be working there, it could be a lot worse blah blah blah, but whatever initial enthusiasm I had has completely drained away, replaced with a black hole of misery. I don't mesh with the staff, who could be politely described as "made for the job"; the hours - 5pm to Ass O'clock in the morning - make me feel like a thumb-bone in an angle-grinder; and in general I feel like I'm spinning my wheels. My buddy Joe recently asked me, "Have the words "overqualified" ever occurred to you?" and I responded, "Like a neon sign the size of the universe - you have to back up a few light-years before you can read it." I'm starting to feel my oats.
I stepped into this mess with both eyes open. Basically, I needed the second job to help pay for the house Joe & I are renting. There was a lot of back rent, and I wanted to help defray that cost. I don't regret that decision at all; it took a while, but we're finally getting it under control. But for a while it was hell. I felt like I was throwing money at a problem that was going nowhere; my life was going nowhere; I was spinning my wheels in a town with few prospects for an artist. Also, it was winter, so there's that. I get pretty stubborn about things, and it was sort of a pride-thing not to give up, not to say, "Oi, wait a minute, what am I doing?" It is gratifying to put your nose to the grindstone and just push through, no matter what happens.
As long as you don't look up, and realize you have your nose in a grindstone.
The upshot is, I've been slipping at my LCC job; I can't handle everything that I have to do. I'm a combination intern/crux of an entire obsolete system which the instructors depend on for their performance reviews and hence their jobs, yet I can't seem to get any interest or help until I screw up. Oh, then the hammer comes down. My director called me everything short of a lazy sonuvabitch. I screwed up, I admit; but part of what I was doing was simply trying to survive the monotony and deal with the fact that we're moving from a paper system to an online system, and therefore we can't purchase any more material. Fuck. So with the semester well under way, I'm trying to scramble, and everything's falling apart, it's the Feast of St. Murphy out here, and the directors and supervisors are sitting at their fucking desks, complaining about their kids. Seriously, that's all they seem to do. Or got to meetings. This is called "work", apparently: complain about your kids, go to meetings. The only people who seem to do anything are the data guys, bless their hearts, who sit for hours staring at computer screens. I really feel for them. Meanwhile, I'm trying to do everything else (yes, get the coffee and fill the dishwasher, too!) with one arm tied behind my back and a Union that's got me locked into a paygrade with no chance of advancement. Want a raise? Talk to the Union! Guffaw laugh snort choke. But hey kid, at least you've got your benefits. You should be grateful. A Job's A Job. Blah fuckin blah.
So yeah, a bit of a professional crisis here - and it gets worse. I hate to admit it, but I finally have to face facts: Lansing itself is a grindstone. There's nothing here for creative people. Yes, I know there's artist groups, and art galleries, and creative companies - but believe me, these establishments are a) closed to actual talent and b) all about the dollars. And yes, it's the same all over, blah blah blah, but Lansing is a bit of a special case. It's a gray town, a quicksand town, a trap town. I'm not sure what it is - the Spiritus Populi, maybe: individually there are a lot of interesting, enthusiastic, creative people; but get them in a group in Lansing and suddenly they become inert. Initial idealism quickly crumbles into apathy. Ask them why, and they're never sure, usually they're "busy" or "can't do much, since they've got kids" or any of a thousand other excuses for not exercising their creative potential. The gray angel Apatheia hovers over the city, watching carefully for any small spark of initiative or rage, and sprinkling asbestos over it.
Where am I going to go? It really depends. I'm putting together my portfolio as a "comic book", and I'm going to mail it out to as many interesting-looking graphic design firms as I can find. It doesn't matter what state it's in. For the longest time I was adamantly opposed to leaving Michigan to look for work; this is home to me, my family's all here, and I felt like leaving was a sort of cop-out. I figured, if I can't make it here, how can I make it in New York or Portland or Austin or whatever Trendy City of the Month the young kids are talking about right now (I just threw up in my mouth a little, writing that sentence). I've met people who came back to Michigan from New York, and I don't like them one little bit - they confuse "clever" with "cryptic", put on airs, wear scarves. Talk breezily about their therapists, or how "overrated" New York is, or talk about New York, or New York, or New York New York New York. And obsessively, obsessively watch stupid videos on their fucking smartphones. Everybody does that, sure; but in New Yorkers it's taken to an obscene level - you can't have a conversation, it's just one fucking YouTube video after another being shoved in your face, and if you're not interested, you pretty much just sit there and fume. Chicagoans are a lot better, on the surface they're weary and disinterested but once you break the shell they're actually kind.
Portland I just...hate on principle.
But I've come to realize that these places, these big cities, are where creative people can actually find their niche - where they can actually matter. It's awful, the way they act as brain vacuums on the hinterlands; I want to resist that terrible suction, but in the end you have to give in to it. Better a small fish in a big pond, where you can probably find some rocks to hang out in with the other small fish, than a big fish in a drying puddle.
Anyway, so that's what I'm going through right now - maybe some of you can relate. And yes, I feel like a failure. I've failed to pull together an art career in Lansing. The mind-boggling thing is that it's tougher out here than in the big cities, easier for young artists to get crushed down. Tucking tail and getting out of Dodge is a shameful thing, but I feel like I have to do it - otherwise I'll just keep on spinning my wheels.
- Rick Out.
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