More people than I could possibly count without losing track have lost their jobs in this sucky economic situation. Well, not to be insensitive to the plight of the unemployed, but I have quit my job. Yep, voluntarily gave it up.
I have been a graphic designer since Eustacia, now 18, was three months old. No. 1 was three, and we were spending our days governed by snack time and nap time and Baby Beluga. I remember the day Husband called from work and asked if I'd like a job—it's something new—it's called desktop publishing. I learned to use a computer and a mouse and everything Adobe could come up with. Well, not quite everything because I stopped at web design.
Through everything that happens to people—the death of my father, the ups and downs of the economy, the growing up of our children, the growing up of me—I have designed book covers and catalogs and CD packaging, and that mouse I hardly knew what to do with 18 years ago has become an extension of my right hand.
But enough is enough, I say. I went from loving the job to hating it, from jumping into a publishing list to see what I could do with it to falling down into it and banging my head against the wall with each new title.
The average modern American changes jobs over a dozen times in a lifetime and changes careers three or four times. Being a graphic designer was my first long-term career, so now I guess here comes number two. I don't know what it is, exactly, but I'm hoping it will involve something I really enjoy doing and something I think I'm good at. Maybe it won't be just one thing but will simply be more of what my days are governed by now—horn playing time, lesson time, English class time, writing time and just breathing time.
So, here's to the next chapter or the next page or whatever is next.