Coming Soon...

It's been a good clean ten plus years since I thought having an online presence was for me. It used to be my only connection to the design world - something I coveted and thirsted and kept close to heart - but when I fell hard on my big ol' Texas rump after grad school, deserting my hometowns for a black-and-white-lovin', city-slickin' Chicago, I let my online presence bleed into the ether. "Good riddance!," I thought. "I ain't about to throw all my charms into the idealization of livin' high and mighty!". I'd worked for a couple architects, known around the office as my "b-tch boss"'s assistant, and learned that no amount of Katie Couric attitude, skill, or chin-uppedness could forge the the color-saturated, cheeky, and pattern-loving portfolio out of my work if I continued to cling to the mastheads. My coworkers chided, "Christy, [they] will NEVER give you a raise because [they] pay you this little NOW and get so much out of you!." Ah, capitalism. "Time to let my soul breathe," I thought. I cherished this hilarious image of Steven Colbert perched on a manicured lawn, cocktail in hand, cloaked in a cloying smoking jacket, arms outstretched, exclaiming, in the darling font du jour, "I want!. I'm thirty-nine years old and I grew up before the millenials, so I'd watched, in real, slow-as-molasses time, the creeping kudzu influence of the Internet on not just my own life, but everyone else's, and the way that we sort of bent, blurred, color-corrected, and warped our actual lives into monetized, canned narratives. If any of you know me, you know that I'm a big softie - I have a loud laugh, I cry easily, and kind of love all around the wheel - but the glaring reality that I could not squeeze my life into the Societal Swan Stencilplate, nor did I feel I had it in me to basically ask people, "Do You Think I Am A Good Artist, Really?", I fell off the iMAP. Well, I'm back, friendos. Eyes as big as quarters, heart full of conviction that I can, that I won't give up again, and that frankly, I must, here we go! Holy baloney. Hold on tight.