Commencement

In exactly one week, I will attend the orientation activities that will begin my second try at making my dream life happen.  In eleven days, I will attend my first day of college.  Strictly speaking, it is just another one of hundreds of days of college.  It is, however, my first day of college in seven years, since I dropped out of the applied computer graphics program at a state university in 2006, only a few classes from receiving a degree.

That was my first try at making my dream happen, and it culminated mainly in frustration.  I didn't have any idea what it really took to be all the great things I had floating about in my visions of my own future, and it was not any more clear to me as a college senior who was woefully unprepared to enter his chosen field.  I knew at the outset I had to go to college--this was communicated to me by my parents with the consistency of German trains, and nearly as much force--and so I enrolled in the first one someone suggested to me.  No research.  No comparison to other schools.  I just took a blind step forward, the dream of my future firmly superimposed over the circumstances and choices that, ultimately, did not lead where I thought.

What is this dream?  Ever since early childhood, I have been an avid exponent of two pursuits: art and games.  I have been drawing regularly since age four.  Like many males of my generation, I would be hard-pressed to count the hours I have spent (okay, Dad, squandered) playing video games, not to mention pen-and-paper games, trading card games, board games, and miniatures games.  The dream has shifted and morphed with the passage of time and the accumulation of experience, but the crux of it has never changed: I will make awesome-looking, fun games.

Five years ago, I put myself in a position wherein I was constantly surrounded by the things about which I am so passionate, but was not creating them.  I was selling them; first working in, and then running, a Games Workshop Hobby Center.  Awesome.  My ambition shifted.  I was in the "Gaming Industry" (read that in a booming, echoing voice) and was excited enough about that simple fact that I dazzled myself with visions of becoming an integral part of the company.  I worked hard.  I grew the customer base and sales of my store, the ambition to distinguish myself and be recognized fueling my every effort. 

And then I ran out of steam. 

I had an amazing job.  I got to go to work every day and teach people how to paint models and play games.  I got to run fantastically fun events, and soak up the joy of those around me.  So why the burnout?  Couldn't I do this forever?

As the mental and emotional fanfare of doing that amazing job died down, I once again heard the siren's call of what I really want to do with my life.  I looked back on the last 12 years of my life, not with regret, but with a new understanding.  None of that time was wasted.  In my time at Games Workshop, I learned how to market things, manage my time, and a host of other valuable skills.  In my time at University, I met my beautiful, talented wife, and a host of valuable friends.  And, by seriously and wholeheartedly pursuing things that weren't, truth be told, my dream job, I learned the most important lesson I could have learned: I cannot settle for anything less.

So it is that in eleven days I start my first day in the Visual Development program at the illustrious Academy of Art University in San Francisco.  I have spent countless hours researching schools, applying for scholarships, looking at the work and education of artists I want to emulate, and otherwise thoroughly vetting and preparing for the path I have chosen.

This blog is an account of that path: the journey of a 30-year-old undergrad who finally found the courage and resolve to do what he really wants to do with his life.  This blog will do a lot of things.  It will help me share my experiences with those who are dear to me.  It will create a record upon which I can look back and, hopefully, gain new insights--or at the worst, have a laugh at my own expense.  It will be a platform to show how my artwork develops over the next three years.  If it is successful, it will lift the veil on how to get money for school and, if wildly successful, inspire others to follow their dreams.

No, not follow.  Create.

More to come.  Robin out.