The All-Nighter

Well, here I am, far enough into the first month of the new year that I can stop writing VOID over every other check because of having written the incorrect Anno Domini. 

Every new year that ticks off is another reminder that there'll be an entire crop of graduates competing against me for those coveted, freelance, illustration gigs. What's more, they'll still be in the nest, without a mortgage or dependents, and can afford to work for just enough to order lunch from McDonald's dollar menu. Welcome to Monopoly hell––the pointless game with no end in sight.

Of course, every cloud has a silver lining made with lead-based paint. Some of those guys have real talent, the rest of them suck lemons. Seems to me like there's a trend in the better schools to return to traditional, classical realism, and such schools are churning out some amazing students. On the other hand, there are those poor souls who have grown up like those crop of naked folk in the Matrix––stuck in a fetal position in a tub of snot, with a SCSI cable plugged into the back of their noggins. These kids prefer microchips over nacho chips, and are able to intuitively master any software program in less time than it takes the government to spend your money. Some of them have real talent and are able to use the computer to realize some great artwork. Others use the computer to hide their mediocrity. In the end, it's about what's in one's head and hands, and less about the tools. 

But it's not all about talent. No siree-bob. What really counts is the "N" word. No, no––I'm not talking about that word that'll get you a brick to the head like Reginald Denny. I'm talking about networking. Schmoozing. Getting people to owe you favors, and then collecting on them after you've babysat their cat while they were in the hospital having a chunk of internal body-part removed because some dope convinced them it was merely a vestigial organ. Let's face it––how many gigs have you landed because they were listed in a classified ad? Nearly none, zero, zip, nada. The good gigs come from getting tipped-off by someone you know. So go out there and rub some elbows.

So why the blathering posting sans illustration? Because it's almost 4:30 in the morning and I'm burning time while mondo-sized work files are being uploaded to YouSendIt for delivery to a client. Now that they've finished uploading I can wrap this up. So there.