There’s something creepy staring at me.

Oh right. It’s the future.

This year has been such a self-reflective affair, I can’t seem to stop trying to peek 5 steps ahead of me. Like when you’re reading a juicy part of a book and your eyes automatically scan to the next paragraph to see what happens. Despite all the Taoist books I’ve been reading about “being in the now”, I’ve accepted the fact that I’m just too much of a curious person to live in the moment all the time. 

For those of you who don’t know what I’m currently doing in life (that includes myself), I’m studying Experimental Animation at CalArts (a.k.a the “Disney school”). I’ll cut this cookie short and boldly state that I don’t “draw cartoons and stuff” nor do I want to work at Pixar. My work is more conceptual and utilizes multi-media techniques, like this. Think more lights and lasers and machines, and less Pocahontas.

ImageI had a discussion with my mentor today about what potential career paths there are as a “new media artist” (combining art and technology practices, basically). Guess what, guys? There aren’t too many. He said, “you’re a work-a-whole-ton kind of person” which basically means, I could succeed in any prolific environment/big-time studio. Right? BUT, my intentions are totally the opposite – I don’t want/need to earn big bucks at some life-sucking corporation. I just want to make art, eat food and CrossFit. End of story.


Look at that! Look at all that deep thinking in the form of a highly organized concept-oriented model! Nerds, that’s what’s up. What a stupid phrase. But seriously, I spent two hours creating a game plan which I’ve now shared with you. Hopefully, one of you faithful readers will catch me in 3 years and ask, “Are you still sticking to the game plan, Jamie?”

Anyway. This is boring stuff. Why do you care about what I’ll be doing in 5 years? Because you’re reading this, and that means you care, right? Right?

On a less related note, I like spinning in my desk chair. Could that be a job? Desk chair. Isn’t that an oxymoron? Poor ox.

Also, something weird and funny happened at work today. Surrounded by little girls and their sticky, paint-stained hands, a six-year-old puts her tiny fist into my hoodie pocket and asks, “Are you a tomboy?” I guess my knee high Trunx socks and Vans didn’t help the image much, but I said “I’d like to think I could be”. Diplomatic answer, right? Mother always said I had a 60% chance of being born a boy, after my two brothers. I guess that means I’m fueled with the testosterones of a male in the making. Yay. Now let’s use that to PR my deadlift!

You know what I really want? I want to move to Italy. And not have to shave my armpits. And adopt an adorable nonna who will show me how to make bread and pasta. Where for art thou, my long lost Italian nonna? I’m obviously ready for some lovin’, so whenever you are, you should come on by. And make me many, many cannolis. 



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