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Good afternoon, I had a great lodge meeting last night, so a post was postponed. I had promised to provide a snazzy blog about one of my favorite instructors, but he will have to wait until next week. I am feeling compelled to tell you one of yesterday’s topics and postpone today’s topic about inking until next Wednesday as well. Today I want to tell you about my life as it is now.

If you’ve been with me from the beginning, you’re probably aware that I used to have the power to pump out two pages a week, and blog constantly. I was prolific for the entire first year and I am proud to say so. It never seemed that I would have more time to dedicate to you, my readers, and to Alice, while in school. That seems to have been the case, however.

I am flailing, and it is cause for turmoil and difficulty. Currently I work in a call center, which is something I had never expected. I have always been a dreamer with a lot of big ideas. During college, especially as a freshman, I expected to be situated along one of our nation’s coasts and employed as an animator. Obviously, I did not pursue that prospect as my course of study changed. Regardless, I always expected more. The call center lifestyle was never my intended outcome. It was merely the means to an end. Unfortunately, it seems to have become more permanent than I had ever expected.

Truth be told, I hate it. I have never been so dissatisfied with my position in life. For four years I cleaned shit off of toilet seats and walls and still felt better about my position and opportunities. Why do I let it persist then? I need to. I do this for myself and my fiance. It lets us survive and keeps us afloat. But it is crushing.

I scoffed at the concept that a job could be “soul sucking”, but it exists. My muses have been running dry, and my dreaming has been slowing. My father, wise beyond my own recognition, has frequently told me that I have to keep dreaming to make “it” happen. Whatever I choose “it” to be. At this point my creativity is staunched, and I am clinging to fanciful notions that used to keep me going.

The tens of you that keep checking in, that keep putting drops of faith into me are almost all that I have right now. I am floundering for redirection. I should not be wasting my time selling these supplements, I should be out there, selling myself and my ideas. That should be my focus, aside from molding my life.

This rough spot I have dubbed the Hellmouth, in Buffy honor, is the roughest situation I have faced. Thwarting apocalypses seem far easier than overcoming my current situation. Regardless, I tell you this now: I am at the precipice of a new paradigm. I am preparing to break my knuckles and my sanity to force this artistic experience to happen. One of my most influential teachers, Professor Montgomery, has frequently reminded me that therapy isn’t easy, and it seems I need it. I will be forcing myself to sit down with the comic every day until things start to move and start to happen. I need to make the change and I need your support.

Wish me luck my friends.

Ever,
Dylan

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