yesterday, i painted until about 1 o'clock when a rejection letter landed in my mail box. my confidence for painting completely shattered even though i knew getting in to this particular residency was a long shot. in spite of KNOWING i'd get a big, fat NO i still felt crumpled and it stung pretty bad. so i crocheted and embroidered for the rest of the day after that. but now, with about 12 hours of sleep under my belt and all sorts of loony dreams this morning, i feel good and have shaken the rejection off. it happens. it happens to all of us. it happens to the best of us. it happens to the big dogs. i'm lucky that at this early stage in my career, i've actually managed to get pretty far and have managed to build a pretty solid armour when it comes to judgement and critique. i know it isn't personal and, even though it definitely sucks, a rejection letter doesn't mean a damn thing when i look at the bigger picture. i'll try again next year, and every year, until i get in. this is just part of the path and i am more than eager to pay my dues. today, i am happy and light and full of gladness and not at all afraid. there's errands to run, groceries to pack in to the cabinets and fridge, a dog to walk, and a man to kiss. there's the paintings in my studio and poems to chase out of my notebook and row after row of crochet to hike across. there's dishes to be done and hair that needs to be braided and needles to push in and out. there's an entire life to look at, an entire day to tend to, postcards to send out and the land to consider:
angela simione, 2009
i will pick a poem for the day later once i've been out in the world a bit. stay tuned. in the mean time, welcome back the Radish King.
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