"All art requires courage." -Anne Tucker
"So would you be interested--"
"Yes."
"--in an internship with Wadsworth Library in the fall? They need someone to help them catalog their collection of prints and watercolors."
"Yes."
"I'd help you in the beginning and show you the process and then you'd work on your own."
"Sounds fantastic. Yes."
Day twelve. I have barely sat down and I've already secured an internship in the fall. Clearly it does not get much better than this.
"Oh, and would you be okay with finishing early? I have to go to a couple senior portfolio reviews."
Never mind. It does get better. Especially since it's 77 degrees and sunny out.
Jean is out sick, which means that I am given the task of packaging prints solo-style. The initial stage is very validating and enjoyable. By "initial stage" I mean the part where I stroll confidently to the storage room, punch in the code, and then set up my music. After that, sweat beads start to form. Why? Because I have to confront a massive role of plastic wrap, easily my worst enemy in the universe. Not only am I totally alone in the matter, but apparently the scissors went on vacation and we only have razor blades to cut plastic and paper.
"Why isn't this cut-- oh, wrong end."
The brown paper that goes on after the plastic wrap has been rolled so tightly that I practically have to lie down on the work table to get it flat. After a fair amount of tussling, I'm able to put my Christmas-wrapping skills to use and I get a package that may or may not be somewhat rectangular. And by the twentieth print, I've got this stuff down.
Still hate plastic wrap.
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