I'll figure it out eventually.

June & July have been full of the usual minutia of a young, broke(n) cancer survivor trying to earn a living in a creative field. Mainly... looking for jobs, interviewing for jobs, doing unpaid projects for jobs, and then not being called back, ever, for jobs. On the upside, my portfolio is bangin' & every time I do unpaid work for a company it increases its bangin'ness.

The downside is that I can't afford a living, still. Barely making it through rent every month, barely paying my cc minimums, barely affording food (I usually dig up quarters every evening to buy some produce for dinner from the local bodega). Forget about medical care, because I have none. I had a sinus infection a few weeks ago that required treatment, and luckily I was able to find a great Free Clinic here in Brooklyn that would dispense antibiotics at no cost-- the catch is you have to wait 8 hours to be seen just like the other 30 people in the room. Doing that once every now-and-then for an emergency is totally bearable, doing it every time you have a medical issue? not so much.

Honestly-- everything I've been going through is normal for someone my age with self-inflicted creative goals. I could've been an accountant, right? (yeah right.)

I knew it would be difficult moving to NY and I did it anyway. Struggle is requisite to personal growth & fulfillment, I say to myself as I try to avoid conversation with the homeless gentleman with gonorrhea seated next to me. We both left that day with a gigantic gift baggy of condoms & lube, swag from the city health initiative. I hope he used his, and not just for water balloons like I did.

What I didn't bargain for, here in NY chasing the design dragon, was Cancer. If I could've known about my future cancer/chronic pain/medical issues, I would not have spent my life learning the art of the cloth. I would've sensibly found myself a steady job that left me unfulfilled but offered medical insurance, peace of mind, and a decent quality of life.

oh well.

Anyone need a freelance designer? I have a bangin' portfolio...

reflections and predictions

Since I was too busy with work to properly reflect on New Year's resolutions, I'll do so now.

But first, a little catch-up:

Monday was our a/w 2012 fashion show at Betsey Johnson, and sadly, my last day with the company.

backstage

this plaid was my doing (via style.com)

1/2 of the assistant design team

Working at BJ (however brief a stint it was) has proved to be one of the highlights of my life-- purely for the amazing people I've met, and the chance to know Betsey herself,  a personal idol of mine since I first resolved to navigate a sewing machine. How many people can say they've fulfilled a dream job they had at age 13? 

Unfortunately mine was a temp position, and my body ultimately couldn't sustain the 12 hour workdays for more than 5 months. The day after show I flew out to CA for scans to determine the source of my increased pain. I'll see my oncologist one last time this Tuesday for the results.

This break in Work brings up many questions about my future, which is something I am always reluctant to think about since Cancer. How can I find a job with a lower physical impact? How can I find a position that actually offers health coverage ( i.e., how to escape freelancer's purgatory)?  On a broader scale, what do I want to do with my life, now that I know my body can't quite hold up to 7th ave fashion industry? Now that I have crossed a life-goal off the proverbial list?

My thoughts scan back and forth between what has made me most happy in life, and what I could do to make others most happy.

Sometimes I settle on my past, on faults and bad coping mechanisms, or physical pain, but only briefly, as I remember all of the good I am capable of doing if I so choose. Without intending to sound melodramatic-- every single day is a struggle. But the days seem to keep coming.


So, what now?

homebody

just a few of my favorite views around the new apartment:





kitchen window looking out into a vacant lot, which is actually a rare wonderful thing.






growing up I had a very gender-neutral bedroom of yellow walls and blue carpet. I have been repairing the damage ever since.





found on the subway, keepin it just in case. magnet is my grandmother's old, it says "never too thin" but I think the bear has body dysmorphic disorder.


and yours truly trying to bear the humidity.


oh yes... I am feeling much better, save for a few aches and pains. I made an apt. with my local planned parenthood though, which does cervical/pap screenings for sliding scale fees, just to make sure everything's nothing. if you know what I mean.

p.s. I really wish this blog was formatted for big beautiful pictures

my heart soars on the streets of Brooklyn

(via josh derr flickr)

So, I am here, fucking finally, after 2 years of failed planning, doubt, and illness getting in my way. I mean, it's still in my way, but from now on I'm going to be that rude bitch on the street that just elbows past it, never even looking back or apologizing, because I HAVE SOMEWHERE I NEED TO BE. So there.

(It's taken me a very long time to get to this point.)

I've had a lot going on lately. A documentary crew, which I am forbidden to speak of, has been following me since late April. They even filmed my flight here with iceman. It's incredibly surreal and exhausting. I'm doing this because I hope people will benefit from it in the same way as this blog; here is a girl you can relate to, whose had struggle and suffering and pain and is somehow stubborn enough to keep pursuing a dream, and most importantly, willing to let you into her life. Seriously, everyone is welcome. I invite you all to share my life with me. I feel it would be a waste if I didn't share it.

My health is stable right now. I'm currently on an oxycontin/codone regimen that works well enough. I'm not pain free, but I can get out of bed in the mornings. It does make me drowsy & I'm trying to get an rx for Nuvigil, which my doc said would combat the fatigue. Has anyone tried this? I worry that I won't have the stamina to work the normal 8-12 hour days required in the fashion industry. We'll see... I need to secure a JOB first, a task I am finding heartbreakingly difficult so far.

Keep trying, keep working, keep moving. Keep your chin up, kid. Many, many artists and writers that I admire struggled with countless rejections and few published works during their lifetime. The shared human experience is surprisingly consistent.

The comic is going well, I have left Jon with all of the final illustrations and we are preparing to finally send out backer prizes, yay! We are planning to release the 1st issue in conjunction with the airing of this "documentary series" who's name we dare not mention.

What else? I'm enjoying the beautiful weather and my working body, walking right foot, left foot, cognizant that I might not have the chance someday. Happy despite great faults. Hopeful to nurture new friendships and meet kindred spirits. and stuff.

that pretty much sums it up.

when everything is connected

I've stumbled across the astonishing blog of Derek K. Miller, a tech writer from Canada who intimately chronicled his battle, and recent death, from stage 4 colorectal cancer. He was a mere 41.

I say astonishing because I find myself relating so closely to his insight, the way he adapts to his disease, his matter-of-fact logicality and humor. He was able to prepare for his own death, and even had a living wake- basically, one final chance to party it up. The last post on his blog was published posthumously a few weeks ago, a somber summation of his life and what its really like to die.

"I haven't gone to a better place, or a worse one. I haven't gone anyplace, because Derek doesn't exist anymore. As soon as my body stopped functioning, and the neurons in my brain ceased firing, I made a remarkable transformation: from a living organism to a corpse, like a flower or a mouse that didn't make it through a particularly frosty night. The evidence is clear that once I died, it was over."

I'm so grateful that Derek had the resolve to share his cancer with the world, with the infinite interwebs, with me.

It reminds me that this blog is important too, for just that reason.

So, some people are dying right now, and some are still fighting , but I am living. Really living, moving on, trying to forget the scarred past, the residual pain, the uncertain future. Filling my head with the scent of new summer rain on unexplored Brooklyn streets.

I can't forget it, but I can build on it. I will add new layers. I will stabilize my crumbling foundation like this old brick wall outside my window. Still standing, somehow.

I'm happy for every miserable second of my life.