These dreams will draw you in…

What a difference not-writing makes, eh?

I’m becoming much more aware of what happens when I don’t write every day.  I still have my Random Thoughts journal…which is in the blue book I meant to begin a larger project within (the “how to survive when you have a brain like mine,” project).  The major issue with this is that I have been feeling it is a large risk for me to put those latter thoughts to paper (or keyboard)…at least in a place where they may be seen (as when I may take this book and write within it, in public).

The positive thing is that, without the grounding of writing something related to hard reality each day, my thoughts are actually breaking free of the limitations of what I see as the physicality of my situation.  I am not sure if this means that I’m breaking further from reality or not…

In particular, I slept for quite a while today.  I’m trying to keep my immunity up, as yesterday was particularly weird where it came to trying to keep hydrated (I had a sore throat, and trouble speaking, for no discernible reason except dehydration…but I ended up drinking at least 36 ounces of water at work).

While I was asleep, I found a…recurrence of a bit of a story I had been thinking about for years as a teen and young adult.  It started out as a response to vampire fiction (I was that young), then moved into urban paranormal fantasy.  At this point, I’m seriously considering making it about aliens — because it is, basically, about aliens and alienation, hidden worlds, etc.

I have two lead characters…one of whom is human, one who is not.  (In my Creative Writing program, we were given a quote which said that writing a book was a disease that you’re only cured of once the piece is finished…but I can’t remember who it was attributed to, or the exact wording.)  The second started out as a strong side character, but that…led into more.  He had the ability to enter and determine the environment of dreams…and in this, his character design was clearly non-human; his reach and interactions, fairly intimate.

It would be interesting to write this.  There is that thing about Proxima Centauri b being within the habitable zone for life, though at this point in our technological development, it would take until 2060 to hear back from any probes.  Meaning, obviously, that by the time we hear back, most of us who are presently cogent enough to understand the significance of this, will be either old or dead.  But something like that could be used as an excuse to write a story which may actually not be sci-fi (as to be sci-fi, I’ve heard, it has to actually be possible), but rather paranormal urban fiction involving aliens.

I find it very, very interesting, the way my thoughts have turned when I’ve had to keep them inside, and have not been presenting them to anyone.  Because of the lack of fear of judgment, I’m able to do certain things like fundamentally question key foundational tenets of belief systems which I had previously held without question.  Like the idea that actions taken in the past determine the future; that time is linear and only flows in one direction.  That everything in the universe is built upon and explainable via rationality and logic.  Or, and I was working on this one before — that the Universe is inherently moral.

I was having a conversation with M the other day where I said that it doesn’t matter if every decision made in a philosophical system is completely on it and accurate, if the fundamental tenets of the stance (or “canon”) are flawed.  If the fundamental givens aren’t accurate to reality, everything that unfolds from that point is also not accurate to reality, and the philosophical system may cease to apply to reality in any beneficial way.

I’m thinking that fiction writing might actually be a good place to work some of these issues out.  Once I start breaking fundamental rules of thinking, it helps to be able to work at this from several different angles (as I am not entirely certain that any one of them is correct, nor should I be).

So…maybe I’m migrating back to fiction as my art or craft of choice?  I’m not certain.  What I do know is that the dream I had impacted me fairly severely, in a beneficial manner.  …And hey, maybe I want to start work again on character designs.

I should also try and work some of this out in my head, so I can try and parse what the story is actually about…not to mention its optimal length, and format…

…and I should consider giving at least one of my characters the trait of being impacted by mental illness.  Guess which one…


Ethnic-? Gender-? American-? Studies? (Literature? Art?)

It is evening again, and evening time means writing time.  🙂

I did succeed in doing some reading, last night.  I actually found someone working in what (sounds like) my dream job:  working at a Special Library serving an Art Museum.  This would have me reading and doing research about Art, which is one of my major interests; whereas work in a Public Library would have me being a generalist, and work in an Academic Library will probably have me teaching LIS.

The main drawback to being an Art Librarian is that a Bachelor’s in Art History is foundational, and I have English as my foundation, not Art.  (I didn’t think I’d be able to make any money at Art, so I opted for English, instead.)

This, though, got me thinking.  If we apply similar paradigms to language studies — like, say, English — as we do to Art, what would that be?  “English History”?  😛  Okay, that just sounds…off; especially given my cultural location as a non-White American.  But I have been thinking about the possibility, if I were going to take two Master’s programs:  one in LIS, and one in Art History, to potentially become an Art Librarian and teach Art History while helping other specialists with their research; what then would be holding me back from just going straight for a Master’s in Art History to teach at the University level?

It’s a different job, though, and probably a tougher one to land.  I’ve heard that competition is intense for a limited number of jobs.

This thing, though, about English…I have an English/Writing degree.  If I pursued an Academic Library position, I would probably then be qualified to teach English at a University level.  This, depending on the freedom I would get to determine my curriculum, could actually be fairly, well, interesting.  At the very least, it would give me an excuse to read fiction again — without, necessarily, being pushed into writing fiction myself.

(Why the distinction?  I was telling D on the way home today that everything I don’t want people to know about me, comes out in my Creative Writing.)

There, though:  if I would like to teach English (and I have a rather interesting idea in mind of having students research the life, times, and writings about authors and their works which we read in class), it might be more efficient just to go for a higher English degree.  The drawback is that, I have heard, the English curricula are mostly designed to produce more English Ph.D.s, therefore reproducing the next generation of English professors; not to actually practically help people communicate.

There is an interesting book I bought a number of years ago, when University was fresher in my mind.  It is called Articulations of Difference:  Gender Studies and Writing in French, Fisher, Dominique D. and Schehr, Lawrence R., ed.  From a peek in the back of the book and a quick lookup on Amazon, this book is basically an anthology of essays falling into the category of Literary Criticism of French (fiction?) writing.  Not only that, but the works referenced within the essays themselves, include gender differences at least; if the works are not themselves focused on gender differences.  (Almost of necessity for the time period — my reprint was published in 1997 — this includes works which reference or are focused around homosexuality…or possibly named more appropriately, they focus on gender and sexual minorities.  The GSM label wasn’t in widespread use at the time, apparently — but it’s not like it is now, though, either.)

I’m thinking that this was my first foray into literary criticism.  I bought it because I had been wanting to get back into reading fiction, but didn’t know where to start.  I knew I was interested in Gender Studies, but didn’t know where to begin, so I picked up a book which would introduce me to a good number of different titles.  Of course, most of these titles were written in French, originally, and may not have been translated to English.  🙂  But it is an interesting peek in on a different culture’s members’ relationships to gender and sexual differences.  And, it will give one some motivation to read the works referenced (especially if you can read French!).

This presents a key problem, though:  although this book is written in English and published by Stanford, it would more specifically likely fall under French Language and Literature as a discipline, not English.


And that, then, kind of highlights that…maybe what I’m getting excited about would more clearly be found if I researched and taught Ethnic Studies, or American Studies; not English?  I do think that part of the reason I really liked this book is because the experience of reading it felt like a breath of fresh air in a society which often seemed insular, to the point of ceasing to make sense.  (I hear from non-U.S. sources that this is a widespread problem in the U.S., though, now that I think of it.)

Hmm.  That is kind of interesting, that “English” as a discipline doesn’t cover “anything written in the English language.”  That’s what I thought I was getting into as an undergrad, but that’s not what I got…and I was disappointed.  The “English” portion of my degree covered the Classics…and not much else.

But then!  If I worked in a Library, books like Articulations of Difference would fall under my purview, and I would stand to gain in my ability as staff, by reading them.

Huh.  Stuff to think on.  If I am to be a generalist, maybe it actually would be better to work in a Library.

Maybe I could deal with Literature, Art, and History, and how they interact, in a Library position.  I’m sure it would give me enough material to publish, if I did become an Academic Librarian.  I’m just not sure what I would be expected to teach, as an Academic Librarian — from what one of my co-workers said today, it seems like I would be teaching people about information literacy and how to use the Library…which is not the most exciting thing, but maybe I could throw some fun courses in there, too?

Ah, I dunno.

I should make these into a freakin’ series.

Two or three major points:

One, which was brought up earlier tonight:  instead of attempting to avoid human contact, consider that what I’m dealing with is clinically-significant anxiety over unwanted interpersonal interactions (that is, I remain anxious even when the stimulus isn’t there).  What I need to do is learn how to deal with these interactions, not avoid them.  As long as I continue to avoid them, my fear of them will remain in place.

Two:  I still need to look over the profiles I have of working as an Academic Librarian — this position and Teacher Librarian positions differ (Teacher Librarian is K-12 and is something I plainly don’t want; Academic is Post-Secondary and may or may not include teaching as a co-requisite).  I meant to do this today, but because of various factors, ended up not getting out of bed.  Also, M states that I shouldn’t need an MA in Art History to teach Art History, even at a University — but I can see from my end that if I want to teach Art History, I better get on studying Art History.  (It isn’t like I’m lacking sources!)

Three:  If I thought I could make a decent, stable living at writing or at art, I would be putting more effort into working at one or both.  However, most of these jobs seem to be in freelancing (or project-based commitments), which is not stable.  If I didn’t need to maintain my health insurance, this might be feasible, but health insurance is a requirement for me because of my disability.

I’ll try and work on #2 now.  #1 would be good to revisit next time I see my health care providers.  #3 is something I can’t do much about.

Apologies for the rant :P

I think I may have again run up against the reason I’ve stopped writing “things-which-aren’t-verifiably-true.”  It has come up in regard to posting on a forum I used to frequent, and it came up again in my last poetry attempt.

I have been aware of it, at least, since the time I started my Creative Process class (now completed):  It is more difficult for others to read what I’m saying when I work in visual art, and I was effectively blocked as regarded Writing.

This hasn’t really been broached…largely since I graduated with my Writing degree, now over a decade ago.  I stopped writing because I didn’t want to show people how messed-up I was; and at the time I was very, very ill.  In specific, all the parts of my identity which I want to hide, show up in my Creative Writing.

If you want to know how deep that goes, I can say that when I was at University, I pretty much let go of hoping for acceptance because — as I put it then — “if people don’t like me for one reason, they won’t like me for another.”  With strikes against me for my race, gender, sexual orientation, religion (or lack of one), spirituality, mental status, culture, politics, etc…the goal of acceptance was looking pretty hopeless.

Since that time, I have been somewhat in the adult world, where petty disputes over identity don’t occur as often as they do in high school, junior college, or University; though when they do occur, they seem to be much more damaging, especially when layered upon a prior history of trauma.

What I’m thinking is that if I’m going to write, I’m going to have to pull off these layers of gauze and actually look at myself and my identities — and stop pretending that I’m a normal person.  I think the reason I stopped writing was because of anxiety over self-presentation.  This, and concerns over not being able to be employed anywhere because I took the risk of expressing an unpopular (minority) opinion from an unpopular (minority) vantage point, at one time.  This, or people would read what I wrote, and not understand it, but judge me for it anyway.

I’m fairly certain that these motivations are applicable to this blog.  I’ve been much less prolific recently, and when I look at reasons why, it is not because I don’t have things to write about, but rather that I don’t want to deal with repercussions of existing as a multiply-impacted minority online.

The only way to avoid that, though, is to stay silent, and if I stay silent, intolerance and hate wins.

I do have a part of myself which has evolved specifically to counteract this, though switching into his mental space is a bit of a double-edged sword; particularly where it comes to gender identity and dysphoria.  (He’s male; this body is not.  He’s also a bit aggressive, which isn’t good when you have an aggressive mother who never backs down from a fight.)

I should note that when I speak about, “parts of myself,” the question is still up in the air as to whether these are external or internal to me, and whether the distinction is even possible, or if it matters at all.

The entire shamanic angle is another facet to this, though I don’t consider myself a shaman at this time, as I was never trained by a living person (other than my mother) in any kind of tradition.  I did go through a rather prolonged “Seeker” phase in which I explored…a lot.  Though what my spirituality is, now, doesn’t fit precisely into any specific religion.

I’ve read that a tendency to mental illness often rides along with psychic ability.  The psychic tendencies are what have caused me to look outside of institutionalized religion for answers.  Later, the politics and framework of the Western Occult Tradition caused me to look outside of the occult sphere for answers (I didn’t realize how alien it was to me, until I started looking into Demonology — and realized how heavily that was based in the doctrines and prejudices of a religious system which wasn’t mine).

The best I can do right now, is to depend on myself and try to recognize when I’m mistaken (which is not easy when you have a tendency to disconnect from physical reality, in general).  I do tend to keep coming back to Buddhism, especially when I hit depressive lows, but I don’t accept what I read, uncritically.

In specific, I have an interest in Huayan Buddhism (I have at least one book on this, which I still haven’t read:  I hit “sentient beings” and get triggered), and the period in time at which Daoism and Buddhism were stealing each other’s doctrines and followers in China — making them both sound similar in the present day (see:  Buddhism & Taoism:  Face to Face by Christine Mollier).

I think I’ve gotten really turned off of Buddhism because of some of the lay beliefs, like, “if something bad happens to you, you must deserve it (because of something you did in a past life which you can conveniently no longer remember),” and, “you only experience unpleasant things because you label them unpleasant (so if you label your toothache as ‘joyous’ you would experience ‘joy’ at your toothache),” or the belief that thinking is worthless (so don’t question the teacher), or the belief that all females are karmically inferior to all males (so we don’t have to fund that nunnery you girls want).

Beliefs like these are really irritating, but I’ve got to remember that they’re not actually anything that helps.  And Buddhism is at its core about pragmatically helping, so beliefs like these should be easily tossed aside — unless, say, you’re a heterosexual monk and having a hard time keeping to your abstinence vow (which is not anything Buddha ever even set in place — his followers did), and programming yourself to hold disgust toward women has become preferable to experiencing life as a being whose constitution includes libido directed at same.

But yeah.  Maybe I’ve just made it into the ranks of the non-beginner Buddhists…

I should probably sign off before I say more stupid things…

Flow #1

You gave me a life
In a world based on language
with no words for myself.

Bread and meat are not
my way.
When I think about this,
I suspect things are not as good
as they seem.

I should be out by now;
but circumstances make that
a decision
that would ruin me.

I have three more years.
And the end of all this
is closing in
at any time.

Life is fragile.
Individual life, especially so.

I’ve already wasted years.
Extended adolescence.
Maybe the most advanced
need time to ripen.

Or maybe our world,
like so many of us,
is so off-balance
it cannot maintain

What I will do without you
is something I don’t know,
but regardless, it will come

(unless I go first)

and I don’t think you could
live with that.

My situation is such
it’s hard to maintain composure
on a daily basis
if I think too much
(like now).

It’s too easy to decide.
The pain is so intense
the expectation of it never ending
that at one time I did take Refuge
and hope to end this chain.

If I die
I will be lucky to be reborn
in a place where I cannot
expect abuse
or early death.

Buddhism is not optimistic
the solution to pain
is to avoid living
This life is fundamentally
And Buddha was a depressive
who snapped

(and who still
did not know everything)

It’s why I stopped writing.
Obsessions come to the fore
much too easily
as though they are reality
leaving me
with your death
and over
and over

And me eating out of dumpsters
or in some kind of home
for the mentally disabled
is a fear I cannot shake

I am not a child.

but I tire
so easily

I see myself
in the raving lunatics
on the street
begging for change

(or the next hit)

Shitting on the sidewalk

Would I be there
without you?

What comes
when I lose you?

Where would they be
if someone cared for them?

Am I so different?

Is my pain based in
compassion or

If you believe you have been
and will be all of those people,
are the two things the same?

I have had an insight
into the nature of reality
where this body is mortal
but I am not
because I am you
I am everyone
who has ever existed.

But as this body,
this experience,
I will still die.
Someday this will end
Someday we will stop talking
about me
Someday the pain will be gone

But not until the end
and I have so much karma
and I don’t know if the solution
to ravaged nerves
is lovingkindness.

This is what I mean
Maybe there is some truth
behind the Sutras

Or maybe in some way
each of us has a star
Some way, I am burning
bright and beautiful
and meant to collapse into
a gateway

into another universe

Thinking I’ll need to go a bit low-tech in the coming days…

I’m thinking that I’m going to need to spend some quality time with myself offline, soon.

Largely, what I’ve been doing is reading, and working.  Speaking of which, running off of the theme of my recent interests, I did check out and read Trinity:  A Graphic History of the First Atomic Bomb, by Jonathan Fetter-Vorm.  (I can mention this because I’ve already returned it.)  This is basically a nonfiction graphic novel about the dawn of nuclear weapons.  It didn’t take more than one afternoon to read.

I’m pretty sure I saw this one reviewed somewhere, as well…but I can’t really find that post, right now.  I could have sworn it was on Comics Grinder, but I’ve run a few searches and don’t see it.  Nor can I recall if I’m Following any other blogs which may have reviewed it.

One of the things which I am finding myself concerned about, now, is finding balance between information intake and synthesis, and moving toward information output.  I have things that want to come out of me, but at the same time I’m concerned about putting them down on paper.  This is the, “but what if somebody finds it,” concern…

…which is, basically, concern about misreading and judgment — to which this information is rather vulnerable.  Ironically, one of the main reasons I started writing as a youth at all was to escape judgment.  Then, came the internet.


Most of the writing I’ve been doing has been on this blog or elsewhere online, intended for immediate consumption.  However, I’ve got the seed of at least one or two projects rolling around in my mind.  The main problem is that I will need to confront at least one to three (or more) minority statuses to get the information out at all.  At least one project has to do with how to get through life when you’re someone like me:  particularly focusing on mental health and gender fluidity.  As for anything else; that hasn’t solidified yet.  I find myself wondering, though, how “creative” (i.e. spiritual) I can get while discussing the former two topics, and how many people that might alienate (I’m nowhere near being Christian, let me just say that).  I also wonder if spiritual content might invalidate the rest of the text, somehow.

It might be easier to work on the art, at this point, and let things filter through that way.  (I’m looking at my paint chip collection, right now.)  This is not the only time I’ve run up against this, though.  Particularly when I was in early college, I would find it difficult to switch from an absorptive, commentating mode into a productive one.  This was particularly severe when I would go for three months just reading, without writing anything, and then be expected to turn in a 10-20 page Term Paper at the end of the quarter.

Reading is not the same as writing; and it can be difficult, when you’re confronted with various finished works, to get back into writing a first draft of something which is invariably more poorly made than what you’ve just read.  But this is because of editing — lots of editing — and lots of rewrites being put in on those projects.  I actually had a co-worker tell me once that she didn’t think she could be a writer, because she didn’t feel she could measure up to the greats (like Shakespeare).

And here again we find ways people are unintentionally (we hope, unintentionally) harmed by University curricula.  The English half of my Writing program made me want to stop reading; I’m not even kidding about that.  This English program was not about just anything written in the English language; it was about a majority of ethnically English writers, which for me amounted to Ethnic Studies in English.

I had been hoping for a more American/multicultural slant, but the English department in specific was very conservative, leaving everyone who wrote something in English which wasn’t considered a, “Classic,” (by what criteria something is a “Classic,” I still don’t know; I just know that pretty much everything I read would easily fit into the “Classics” section at my Library) to be focused on by the Ethnic Studies department.  The latter was also kind of disappointing because it focused on politics, not craft.

Although I’ve got to say that I really did appreciate my class on Vietnamese-American Literature.  I was certain it was expected that I would take a class which corresponded with my own diaspora…but after having been exposed to Japanese-American culture for most of my prior 20 years, I — rather — wanted to see how some other Asian people lived.  I have had to deal with racism from within my own culture, and that did factor into not taking Japanese-American Literature (which would have been what I took if I went the easy route).

I kind of wonder, though:  if I had taken Japanese-American Literature, would it have tipped me over into taking Japanese Language and Literature for my Bachelor’s, as versus English — Creative Writing?  And would my writing today still be as crisp as it sometimes can be?

I really don’t know.  What I do know is that Federal Aid won’t cover a second Bachelor’s — I checked it out, a long time ago.

Anyhow.  Not to get into regrets…

I am, though, wanting to get back to my art materials.  I don’t know yet what I’ll make, but I’m sure something will come of it, somehow.

I should probably get back to work in my Art Journal, too…

…And maybe, if I’m going to use the little journal I’ve got for writing out this project…maybe I will just try writing whatever comes to mind, as versus having a clear presupposed view of what I am “trying” to get out.  I think it will help.

Thinking on possible futures.

I suppose I really can’t discern my future direction from here…there is too much undone, the results of which would help me determine whether I’m more of a writer or artist.  I need to get reading, and I need to get painting and writing.  Experience is key, here.  I’m not going to get anywhere (or know where I want to end up) just by thinking about it.

I’m fairly certain that doing both writing and art professionally/half-time, while being a Librarian half-time, will be too much.  I came across a post by the Public Library Association yesterday (an arm of the ALA) which mentioned that most new jobs in public libraries are part-time/no benefits, and this is at least a nationwide trend.  It is a good thing, then, that I have other occupations to fall back on, though I think that both with Library work and with Art, over half-time may be taxing.

With Library work, my social skills are stressed, though as I’ve stated, the social realm is my weakest point.  What I didn’t realize until yesterday, though, is that even though social skills are my weak point, they may still be comparatively strong.  I doubt it, but I’ve been measuring myself against myself, not against other people.

In Art:  let me say that this last semester was really intense.  More intense than I would have liked; and I was only at seven or eight units (I’m no longer sure).  It was seven or eight units in three production classes, though.  Granted that one of those classes was my capstone class, which should have been classed as four units itself…but I was also in Continuing Figure Drawing, which…was not easy.

I’ve learned that in general, although Art comes more easily to me than it does to the majority of other people (whom I’ve known, who have tried it), it’s still hard…and it’s hard nearly all the time.  The only time it isn’t hard is when I’m playing around with doodles and two-dimensional designs.  But observation, and recording that observation using fine motor skills?  There’s a constant process of noticing inaccuracy and self-correcting; which can be hard if, like me, you struggle with perfectionism.  This is not to mention the apparent necessity of pushing myself outside of my comfort zone over and over and over again.

This is intense enough to somewhat push me away from trying to work on these skills, although I love color:  color interactions, color mixing, just seeing — and may love it enough to keep working at this.  Generally, I reach a point some way in when I get, “in the zone,” and I’m so involved in what I’m doing that the difficulty level doesn’t faze me anymore.  I become so engaged as to forget about how hard it is or why I don’t want to do it, because I’m committed.  I think if I could let up on judging my own work, it would be (a lot) easier.

Art could be something that I keep doing as an avocation, to just try and balance myself; but I’m not thinking that it fits with my main skill set…

Yesterday, I asked a co-worker about how Reader’s Advisory works.  Short answer:  I’ll have to read, a lot.  Something else that I’ll have to read a lot for:  Writing.  Not to mention, an alternate career path:  Editing!  My BA prepared me to be an Editor within the Publishing field, but silly me:  I never took an internship (I couldn’t drive, at the time, and felt guilty about asking M to drive me everywhere).  Writing, Editing, and Librarianship, at least, apparently go together.

I already have the compulsive writing bug (something is missing when I don’t record my thoughts in language), so there is no worry, there.  The major issue is how to survive on one or two part-time jobs (depending on whether I can swing freelance writing, editing, or illustration) and/or how to make it as a writer while working two part-time library jobs simultaneously (which may well be Library Assistant jobs for at least 2-3 years after graduation; and yes, this is the paraprofessional level).

How painting will factor into this is something I haven’t yet devised, though of course there is the possibility, as stated before, of becoming an Illustrator.  The exact line of illustration I’d go down (Children’s books?  YA graphic novels?  Adult graphic novels?) is something I haven’t definitely found yet (as I haven’t tried writing or illustrating any of these, yet — well; in recent memory), but I do display traits in my work which are illustration-style, already.  To test whether I actually want to do this, it could be interesting to just try to write + illustrate a short work.

Speaking of which:  I did pick up a small journal today in which to start my next project.  What I’ve been thinking on has been the creation of several (at least…several) autobiographical essays which stem from my life experience.  I had been thinking that it could be interesting to print each on a paper of a different background, but then we start clearly getting into self-publishing/’zine/print-on-demand/art work, because the cost of printing would be prohibitively high for a major publisher.

I ran across some method of creating a ‘zine out of one piece of paper (which I believe can be scaled up to something like my 18″x24″ sheets), a long time ago.  I’m not sure if I can remember the link now, though I do remember something like the basic design.  If I’m self-publishing, maybe I’d want to go this route and have a printer print out, basically, oversized image files; then I could cut and fold these for distribution.  (This might work for a comic project, as well.)

Interesting; at least as a project to practice my skills on.  I have a feeling InDesign would help with this…but I still don’t know how to use it.  There’s also the option of just printing the things out on cartridge paper and binding them by hand (or at the copy place), too.  Depending, that is, on whether what I write is high-enough quality to publish, in the first place.

And then…we start to get into Graphic Design work, which I’m not sure is the place I really want to end up.  So we have some options, here:

  1. Library work (could include new job titles)
  2. Freelance writing
  3. Freelance illustration
  4. Editing
  5. Graphic Design

And, if Library school doesn’t work out, I still have Writing, Illustration, Editing, and Graphic Design as paths I can go down.  This is, at least, some form of direction, even if it is vague…