I'm sifting through everything I've ever made, hoping to find the things I have let slip through the cracks (that is, slip out of my portfolio and into pathetically well-organized folders) that will somehow impress the person I may or may have not already allowed to form an impression of me. I'm reorganizing and post-rationalizing and relearning and redrawing the things I've already done. I've already told these bedtime tales and I don't feel like revisiting the old monsters I no longer believe in. I now know it was all just allegory anyway, told to keep the kids in bed, keep the kids at home, keep the kids from being dismally boring.
And what a job.
Drink beer and coffee and stay up way too late wrangling files because it's easier when you're numb and your brain is making wild connections here to there, then to now. Because in this state, you are no longer physically immobilized by the embarrassment of having defended these things. Go to work and face questions about "what's next" and fill in spreadsheets and organize archived boxes of drawings and try to finish it all before you leave (which well, intended co-workers remind you is "on Monday already?!"). Nice + tidy.
Buy organizational products online and then back out at the last minute because shipping is more than the cost of the CD sleeve you wanted to properly represent your design aesthetic... no, your design ethic.... no, your design ETHOS. Because this document. This thing you bring with you but don't leave behind because it is yours. This collection of drawings (representing ideas that at one time were real but will never be real, just the communication of a remembered reality) will outweigh your personality. It will outweigh your clothes, your references, your experience, your ability to make eye contact.
BULLSHIT.
