They have the How Loathsome hardbound book at the library; just picked it up today. It reminded me that San Francisco is a competitor in my 'cities to move to' list. That's right, I'm getting the hell out of this town. I'll miss the rain, and some of the people. I'm sick of Seattle's stagnation, its shitty art schools, the recession; the lack of an industry with art jobs. I want to stay West Coast, but I spit on Portland, so that leaves California. Academy of Arts University puts on a good dog and pony show via their catalogs and DVD; I need to go down and visit them and make my decision about application. Ditto for Otis in LA, and the Pasadena Arts Center.
I hear San Fran is much like Seattle, but bigger. I may need something more frenetic right now; I'm not sure. I suspect LA's glitz and ditz would fill me with hate, though. I can also see myself living gleefully in either locale, though.
I need to get out, one way or another. I've run out of city. It's Bellingham squared, up here, and I feel cramped.
I'm waiting right now, waiting for Grandaddy Paul's legacy to come through. It will move me and send me to school. I bring illustration jobs with me wherever I go; that's the beauty of the mercenary artist (or the art hobo, however you want to look at it). And then what? Four years of art school (or three, if they take all my Cornish credits), networking, side projects whenever I can cram them in. A novel or a comic book. Painting. Student loans, VA money, inheritance. I'll spend a lot of time in agony about having fallen behind due to the Cornish fiasco. I'll try not to get boxed and packaged by art school. I'll make stuff. I'll play video games. I'll model and do modeling-related things (sweet and sassy Miss Becky says she'll introduce me to her agent). I'll have new friends and old ones. I'll try not to get suckered into living with or marrying anyone (what a mess that would be, for everyone involved...) When I get my bachelor's, maybe I'll go teach English in Japan for a year on the JET Program. I'll be the oldest Harajuku girl. I'll found the Elegant Gothic Yakuza.
A bachelor's in what? Costume/fashion design still holds a certain appeal, as does web design these days. The latter would be more useful. Illustration perhaps, although I fear burnout and institutional brainwashing. English? Fine art? Photography? Anthropology?! Harrumph. I need something that won't bore the piss out of me, won't break me too hard, but also won't be a complete waste of time and money.
If I had a car and a working laptop I'd just drive down there myself and invade every art school that looks promising, a day at a time, working while I did so. Gonzo illustrator. Wander the halls, eavesdrop, look at posted work, gauge the general productivity and happiness of the average student. I'm good at meeting people and getting information. What I want to avoid is the sort of unrelated bullshit that art school bigwigs feed prospective students; most of what Cornish told me during our courtship was outright lies. It, and the shitty relationship I was trapped in at the time, ended up screwing me pretty good.
Colleges have marketing departments just full of people dying to get your application fee, but who don't actually have any contact with the school itself, the students, the classes, or anything related to them except in the most tenuous way. Offices full of hip young adults with vague administrative positions who desperately want to answer all your questions with blurbs from the catalog. I don't blame them, exactly; the teachers are busy teaching and the students shouldn't be easy to contact. But what I need is to talk to the least satisfied student at the school, and know exactly how they became unsatisfied. I need to talk to the dropouts, the stragglers, the five- and six-year seniors. The Worst Possible Scenarios, not the fucking glee club. I need anecdotes, gossip, declarations of frustration and surrender. I need to read the graffiti in the bathrooms. I need to plumb the slimy, studenty innards of the place before I can really commit.
...
I will now call my father and try to sell him on this plan.
I will miss this rain.