I was driving home from where I'm freelancing today when it suddenly hit me. I don't know if I metioned this already, but Jason'd girlfriend is and Art Director at Dark Horse Comics, and she's tossing me some freelance work while I look for something more steady. Saving my life, really. Everything else has been such a salmon swimming upstream desperation drive lately. Or so it's seemed. My every waking thought, well almost, has been about employment and my chances of getting it or not getting it and who I met that could help me get it and how those people may or may have not felt about me and if they might have work for me and if so, should I take it and how should I position myself and on and on.

And then today, driving home it hit me. And I realised that, regardless of whatever else may or may not happen to me, right now I am working making fucking COMICS. About fucking STAR WARS for fuck's sake! In Portland!

I'm living some small inside-out part of a dream I'd half forgotten. I have to enjoy this now. It's like the well-worn story about the guy being chased by tigers, and they chase him off a cliff, but he manages to grasp a outgrowing branch before falling to his death. To let go is suicide and to climb up impossible, but growing on the branch are the most delicious fruits.