One of my most memorable encounters during the entire course of my professional experience was making the acquaintance of Mr. David Maurice.
See, my first job was to give technical support for a video editing software bundled with the budding digital camera technology. One of the common questions we get is how to upgrade the software to be able to do more with it, and it entailed purchasing a product key for (if my memory serves me well) USD 50.00.
One of the key rules in customer support was to be impersonal. As an agent, you don’t give your real name or give any personal information. You are not allowed to go outside the box for fear of breaching service level agreements and confidentiality. But I was young and impressionable, and simply very eager to help. Mr. Maurice, without at first going into details, made humble requests as to how he might be given a product key. In my then limited thinking, how could an Englishman ever be lacking USD 50.00? They had British Pounds, clearly a superior currency. USD 50.00 shouldn’t be a big deal.
In this installment of Faithful Fridays, following Mom’s questioning, I lay out my thoughts on very two complementary verses — ones that ably encapsulate God’s love and His faithfulness to His people: 1 John 4:18, and Jeremiah 32:40.
As my Instagram, Facebook, and Tumblr followers already know, I had engaged in a “sketch countdown” leading to the premiere of Voltron: Legendary Defender‘s season two — and, incidentally, Hunk’s birthday. I had meant to compile what I had made following my wrap-up, but my notebook had to be sent in for repairs. Due to constraints involving time and logistics, it was only this week that I was able to use my notebook properly, so I have a fair few things to catch up on ^^;;
I had engaged in this project just to release all of the pent-up frustration I had for not being able to draw as much as I liked in 2015 and 2016, and to reclaim something I enjoyed doing for myself. There was a time (which had coincided with my period depression back in 2010~2011) when drawing became something that I had used as a tool, thinking that it would make people like me (or like me more). At that time, drawing, like roleplaying, had become drug-like escapes because I was failing at something I didn’t want to do in the first place.
But I love drawing too much to ruin it for myself. So I decided to ride on my affection for V:LD, and got my hands working: Continue reading
My one-year contract with my most recent employer ended last March 11, just last week, and so also ends my year with the graveyard shift. My next employment starts on April 17, and so I have a month to get back on track with my biological clock, and self-imposed commitments to drawing and writing. It’s timing enough that I bust through my writing’s dry spell in wrapping up this series that I started in January.
One of the things that I struggled with being on the graveyard shift is actually staying up to match my loved ones’ schedules. This, I found, was the greatest challenge that I faced. It was strange, actually: I chose this job primarily because I hoped to spend more time with my family, thinking that since my work was at night, it would leave my mornings free.
When I was listening to one of Draw with Jazza’s videos, where he said that behind an artist’s final work is a trail of thousands and thousands of drawings, a good lot of which ended up in the bin, I was reminded of this tweet.
95% of an actor’s career is auditioning.
Whenever I feel down about my drawing or writing, I remind myself of these successful people who persevered in their craft. For some ridiculous reason, I believed that Keaton is made up of 1000% success and that producers are lined up around the block to cast him. But that simple statement grounded me in that Keaton had people telling him that he didn’t make the first auditions. That Jazza had teachers giving him a failing grade.
Thank you, Josh, and thank you, Jazza.
I’ve beaten myself down for too long thinking that I’ll never get “there” in my drawing or writing because of age or circumstances. I have a dream, and it’s time I stop running away from it.
By May this year, I would have been working for 13 years, 95% of it in the BPO industry: tech support for seven years, documents support for four, collections quality analyst for five months, and now human resources support. For the longest time, I have merely seen it as a means to an end: I work, I get money, I buy things. Wash, rinse, repeat. I kept telling myself that this is temporary, that I just need to bring food to the table, to help raise my (then) baby nephew, to help my little brother through school. One day, someday, I told myself, I’ll get out of this and go to art school…
Five years went by, then ten. I confess to feeling bitter over the idea that my parents didn’t “let” me attend the fine arts workshops so that I could pass the talent tests for art school. I started blaming myself for not working hard enough at drawing or singing. I came to point when I told myself that if I can’t have what I want, then I’ll hate working, and that I’ll do everything I can to make the world bend around me and make them see that I am an artist.
My workplace then had a very active employee engagement program, and I was a very active part of both the choir and the arts group, and the Bible study group. I looked forward to rehearsals, meetings, and sharing reflections. I reveled in preparing for competitions and events. I enjoyed the attention being “busy” over my passions got me. In the back of my mind, however, I knew that I was neglecting my work — you know, the one I was actually paid to do. I had developed a skewed sense of entitlement.