I’ve spent the past 24 hour or so thinking about my future. At this time, I am thinking that I wish that back in 2008 when I was laid off, I had gone back to working as a paralegal in Charlotte. Of course, I may not have been able to find another job because the economic climate was so bad then. Back in 2008, I had a good career making a good deal of money. I had a new car. I had health insurance.
I cannot say I was happier or healthier then. For sure, I did not have a purpose. Although I am not sure I have a purpose now. I feel like I need to find a purpose, but I am not sure what it can be.
If I had returned to work as a paralegal, Wally and I would probably not be together now and Wally is the one thing that makes life worthwhile.
The portfolio project for this semester is haunting me terribly. I am afraid of it; I am afraid of failing. Part of me wants to take the easy route out and just continue photographing food in a studio setting. I got quite good at it. If I think of my improvement, it makes me feel good that I accomplished something.
Here is one of the first images I produced:
It’s okay, but it is really nothing more than a pile of vegetables photographed without good lighting.
This is one of the last I did:
Which is stunning. So the improvement is evident and if I can get my butt out of the rut that it is in, I might be able to achieve the same results … or not.
I wrote the head of the photography program this morning that I was considering dropping out of the program and getting a job as a cashier somewhere and working until I can retire and really, that’s quite attractive right now. I will continue to raise food, but just for Wally and me which would mean we’d cut back to almost no animals. That’s very attractive right now. I have failed as a farmer because I cannot do it in a way that both pleases the public and suits my own ideals and responsibilities.
This morning I went out to milk Moon and although it had rained over night, I did not put on my muck boots. Bad mistake. Moon decided she was not going to come in on her own to milk and I had to trudge out there in the mud to bring her in. My feet were soaked and covered with mud and cow shit by the time I was through. That cow is going to be the death of me. I would like nothing more than to sell her and quit doing all that I do. Perhaps in March when Penny freshens I may just do that.
Until later …