Talking down

Godzilla talks down Betta's anxieties about joining (touch wood, throw salt over your shoulder, cross fingers, etc) corporate Malaysia:

Godzilla: ...and make sure you take the effort to go for lunch with people.
Betta *looking totally catastrophie*: Huh? Lunch? With people? I have to do that? WTF. OMG. What the hell do I talk about?

This means I can no longer eat toast in the sweetness of my own company all day long.

Betta: I feel like a hillbilly. I feel like I'm 23, starting my first job.
Godzilla: This is not hard. It's easy. Look, if 50 percent of Malaysians can do it, so can you.
Betta: I feel retarded.

This made me realize just how inept we artists are at dealing with stuff other people can do without thinking too much about it. Fill this giant, cavernous space with a hanging sculpture in 3 days? Sure! Circulate at a corporate function? OMG OMG OMG OMG. Interact daily with bosses, secretaries, and office assistants? Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

And here's the heartbreak hotel woe-is-me stuff:

Betta: Are people going forget about me as an artist?
Godzilla: Yes, people are probably going to forget about you. (Ain't she good? This is called tough love, y'all) But trust me, when you're done with it, it's not going to take long for them to remember you again.

-

There is so so so much work to be done before the end of the year, my guts quail at the very thought. If it wasn't clear enough to me before that I can no longer continue working in this manner, then I'm absolutely certain of it now.

So in spite of misgivings and anxieties, which honestly, I find difficult to fully articulate, I do look at this impending change with a great sense of relief, anticipation even. And if I may be allowed the indulgence of saying so: I suspect... that I'll make my best art in my 30s. Isn't that something to look forward to?