kethrai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Inventory Well, ‘tis the time of year to at least take stock, even if you don’t have the intestinal fortitude to actually make resolutions because you know you won’t keep them. Still, I can’t say as I was sorry to wave bye-bye to 2002 –it was not a catastrophic year, by any means, but that doesn’t mean it was good, either, you know? So it’s probably worth it to look and see what I woulda done diffurnt if I’da known bettah. And since my life this year was all about doing my renfaires and whatnot, most of this is in relation to that. (Good lord. See what a degree in English nets you. Sentences that end in “that”. ) So, 2002 was the year of weird shows. As noted before in these annals, and you’re probably sick of hearing me say this, dear Nonscheduled Reader, we had a KICKASS early season, right up through May. At least moneywise. We hauled in more than we had any right to expect, based on past performance (lest you think we got rich and fat, dear NSR, please recall that most artisans end up on public assistance sooner rather than later in this day and age—if we depended on my art for the rent check, I’d have a hefty down payment on a nice piano box by now). Still, we made decent money and were fairly whoopsied over it. In retrospect, I should have been seeing that “pride goeth” quote plastered on the side of every building, but there you go. The shows that did well for us were totally unexpected—the psychic fair in the Redneck Mall from Hell, the spring 3-day-ren-faire in the freezing rain…The ones that did poorly were the BIG shows, the one I was expecting to make heaps at, that lasted for weeks and weeks. This was also the year that the Darling Husband actually bootstrapped himself into actually working in my business, finally, after three years of nagging. We had one catastrophic show in early February in 2002, where I was sick and grumpy, we were late, he was sleepy and grumpy, everything that could go wrong did, and he goldbricked and whined and slacked sufficiently that I warned him that if he pulled that again, I’d run an extension cord out to his cardboard box to power his computer, but that was the ONLY goddamn concession I was going to make, and he could bloody well suck up and deal. While he still tends to slack, the whining has cut down considerably and he seems to feel like more a part of the business, and less like his only job is to haul a suitcase or two and whine. All of this change in attitude was assisted by my leap to legitimacy. I think I'm generally getting better reactions to my art form than ever before, and it's hard to think of yourself as substandard in the warm glow of general approval. More folks are being much nicer about what I make and how I make it than ever before. And dammit, that feels GOOD. I found that too much scrambling this year turned me into a person that I don’t want to know. It seemed like we were always scrambling—load the car, unload the car, work on displays, make more stuff—I suppose my resolution, if you can call it that, is to relax a little more this year by being better prepared. I hated being grouchy and upset and feeling frazzled all the time, which means I’ll actually have to do that thinking-ahead thing that I’ve never been particularly good at. One thing I do need to ask myself is what I want to do for costumes this year, and to be better prepared in that direction. Which leads me to— All the last-minuting made Kethrai a frumpy girl. On far too many occasions, I was busily sewing garb for other people, and barely made anything halfway decent for myself. I tended to feel worse at each successive fair because I looked worse—I was trying to finish the Darling Husband’s shirts, pants, and other garb, plus loaner costumes for friends who were coming along for the ride, and whatever outerwear we were going to bring with. And pretty much neglected my own costumes. Heck, I did better sewing on dresses to sell than I did on the clothing I actually wore. And looking less than stellar does not help me at all. I admit it—I’m shallow. If I look good, I generally feel that I have to live up to it attitudinally, and looking good cheers me up. An impression of beauty really only requires attitude, smoke, and mirrors, but when I don’t pay attention to the props, I tend to slip in the attitude department as well. I’m a poor advertisement for my wares when I’m grumpy, bitchy, and ghastly-looking, so more time on the costumes for me is indicated. I have to get over the silly feeling that I should pour all available resources into the business only—after all, I am the main resource of my business. Dammit, I deserve some pretty costumes. Exhaustion also turned me into someone I don’t want to know. There were a number of things there that I need to concentrate on changing, and already have made some changes in. Too Much Information—my birth control method being one of them. I decided to end 6 years on Depo a month ago, and go back to the pill (it can’t be as bad as it was before—right? Right?) because my energy levels were through the floor. Next on the list is a little more exercise, eating a little bit better, and seeing if some of the Depo-weight might come off. I’m not sure if it’s actually being on something different or deciding to make a difference, but I find that my attitude is improving overall. It was a very dark summer. I intend to make it a less dark winter. Some of the scrambling was scheduling, which I have no intention of going through again. I am hoping to have my show schedule set through at least September in the next couple of weeks, so that we know where we’re going and what we’re doing and things are decently spaced out so that I don’t run myself into the ground again. Ideally, I’d like to be doing two shows a month, but one is okay. (By the way, if you know of an event that is funky and cool taking place in June, with folks that appreciate copper jewelry, that month is empty. New England only, please.) Every year is a learning year, and it feels like 2002 wanted to hammer in a few more points into my thick skull than most. I don't know what I expected, really, because Lady Fate usually chooses the occasions when I'm tired, overheated, and grumpy to kick me in the ovaries anyway, but I intend to give her less opportunity in future. We'll see how it goes. 6:43 p.m. - 2003-01-06 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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