by Jill MacGregor

giving the paparazzi the stink eye in my younger years

I have found myself running into the girl I used to be lately. You may think that must mean some carefree version of myself, untethered by serious adult themes but that would not be the case.

I’ve definitely gotten younger as I’ve gotten older.

But I am rediscovering an old theme—an old ghost—that used to keep me up at night. It’s that first hurdle we all are faced with, I think: What am I supposed to do with my life? Who am I supposed to be? What am I meant to influence? Am I smart enough to recognize the signs that will point me in the right direction?

Honestly, I’m not sure I’ve ever stopped asking myself these questions.

These questions definitely got stirred up recently when I found an artifact in my closet.

I keep thinking about it.

It’s my Strong-Campbell Interest Inventory Assessment. I can’t believe I still have it. I remember when I got the results –some 25+ years ago—I thought it was full of shit. Because at 23, I already knew everything.

EVERYTHING, people.

Except what to pursue as a career.

At 23, I was using my double major of French and International Studies to manage a trendy, little bakery. At this point, I think it’s important to remind you that “croissant” is French and I pronounced it better than anyone at the bakery.

Yep. That’s what 6 years of French and living abroad for a semester will get you.

So I baked. And I loved it. I loved researching new recipes. I loved the science of baking and its demand for precision. I found that the toque I wore at work was tremendous camouflage for my increasingly unusual hairstyles/hair colors. No customer knew what was going on under there until I *released the Kraken* at the end of my shift and the long pink curls fell over one eye in direct contrast to the buzz cut on the rest of my head and the –gift with purchase–long purple and blond tail.

My hair was a strange cross between Burt Lancaster in Elmer Gantry and the female singer in the Thompson Twins.

It was the ‘80’s…

But here was the rub. You see, the 2 years after college I’d watched many of my friends put on suits and go to traditional jobs that somehow corresponded with their college major while I put on my apron and baked.

And as time passed, I began to feel the difference in the choice I’d made–to the point that I began having very quiet conversations with myself about doing something that might involve working for the MAN and following a path I proudly fought for no real reason…other than being young.

So, I searched a bit of counsel.

And, as I sat across from the career counselor, my erupting fuchsia curls assaulting her very senses –and at the very college that encouraged the pursuit of my French major even though the reasoning for my choice was “I like French”– I realized she was just a few years older than me.

But she wasn’t wearing Birkenstocks or smelling oddly of chocolate and vanilla or thinking, as I was, that I needed to go to the co-op and get some falafel before that new client stopped by to have me read their Tarot cards.

She was probably thinking how nice she looked in plaid and that her brunette bob was never going to go out of style.

I imagine her thoughts were peppered with ideas about career trajectory and maximizing her potential.

I was a little jealous of her at this moment for her ongoing clarity that led her from one sensible decision to the next. It made me feel a bit…cartoonish.

I approached the test results the same way I would have approached a horoscope: slightly skeptical but still hoping to find some definitive answers for my life.

She said my results showed that I would probably never be a farmer or in the military, as if a single glance wouldn’t have allowed us to come to that conclusion. I rated lower than low when it can to teaching, especially as a foreign language teacher, or any career that ended in -ist or -ian.

I scored very highly with the Artistic themes, though, especially with art and writing. There was a high score in Adventure, however that is translated. The job that popped highest on my results was advertising executive.

That would so be working for the man.

I shifted nervously in my Birks and rolled my eyes.

I also scored highly with the Enterprising themes especially in the Sales related field.

I was horrified. Selling? That is so what the MAN would want me to do. Sell a thing to make money. It sounded horrible.

These results seemed to fly in the face of the life I was currently leading. Because, people, at this point, I was volunteering at the co-op to get my 15% off of my organic kefir. I took my own jars…And lets all remember this was 25+ years ago which officially made me…a granola.

Alright. Get the picture? I was a pink haired, Birkenstock wearing granola who ran a bakery and read Tarot cards professionally on the side. My friends and I discussed our auras and the use of cranial sacral massage to rid us of baggage from our past lives.

When I left I felt quite certain that the test only had the ability to discern my dislikes and absolutely lacked the power to tell me what I should do with my life.

I discarded the (NOT)Strong-Campbell Interest Inventory Assessment that day.

So imagine my surprise when I found these test results—which are such an ancient artifact that they are printed on paper.

Because when I short list my career and interests now…well, I ended up pursuing everything that damn test said I would.

When I eventually left the bakery several months after taking that test, full of fear and the absolute knowledge that I was doing the right thing, I started a 20+ year career in advertising sales, working at TV stations around the country. Much to the horror of my woo-woo friends…

I’m an artist and have been showing my paintings for the last 5 years.

And I’m a writer.

Show off-y test.

It makes me feel a bit like a word problem—that somehow I can be solved mathematically. And I’m sure you can understand how frustrating that is to the girl with the pink hair and too many piercings– that she can be so easily deciphered. After all the work she had put into being unsolvable.

I couldn’t help but notice how things have changed—and how they have stayed the same–when I ran into this girl I used to be. We both live by our intuition but I notice, now, how much more informs my intuition than when I was younger—fortunately.

And, we both love the smell of the unbeaten path and slightly uncharted forward motion. It always has always led somewhere interesting.

If you like this, you may want to read:

by Jill MacGregor

You, you, you and you. AND ESPECIALLY YOU! You are all here to teach me something that I cannot learn any other way.

Whether you are endlessly being reintroduced to my last nerve or are busy opening my eyes (and possibly my cold, black heart) by that last thing you said or did, you are my teacher.

And, these lessons you bring…I fight them, I push them away until, finally, I inch cautiously closer. The lessons you teach are live demonstrations on what to do and not do.

So much to file away for later, so much to emulate, so much to try and incorporate.

You may think I’m not paying attention as you watch me make the same mistakes over and over, batting away the good things because I still don’t understand their importance in my personal ecosystem. You are so patient to teach me as I discard and waste out of fear or stubbornness or my own inability to see that things can be different.

You are my sharp stick, constantly poking me in the side. The twinge that helps me understand that I am GETTING WARMER even if I am still not quite HOT. You become the feeling in my gut that helps me understand that adjustments still need to be made and life is a series of course corrections—and that is a good thing because it represents the change I try to create…even if I fall a little short at times.

I hear your words in my head and they remind me that I am never alone. You help me so much and I don’t know if you realize it.

Every day allows me to begin again. Every lesson loads my arsenal. Every one of my teachers helps me see that life is more about reconstruction than it is about fracture—more about working the puzzle than admiring the finished product.

Every time you show me who you are, I learn more about who I am.

I just wanted to make sure that knew that.

You may want to read Saying the Words now.

You may not know this about me but I am an artist. I been very surprised over the years by what painting has taught me about life—and I don’t mean about appreciating form and color. Painting is the one thing I can’t multi-task my way through. It demands my complete and undivided attention. Maybe that’s because an unhurried mind is more observant. These are some things that Painting has whispered in my ear while I’ve put my brush to canvas.

1. Don’t ever give up just because its hard/ugly/looks unsolvable

Because, friends, sometimes I would like to get the lighter fluid out and douse a canvas. My lesson here is that I have simply not completed the task. I am impatient. I think I should be at conclusion but I’m really in the middle of the process. If I produce enough follow through, conjure the will to try and push forward, I’ll see where this painting needs to go. It only takes one brushstroke to give me a new idea and provide me with a new direction.

2. My biggest mistakes can turn into my sweetest accomplishments

See: Lighter fluid

There have been times when I set a partially painted canvas in the corner just to stare at its ugliness. Oh dear god, who painted this crap? When the answer is *me*, I have found universally that if I don’t give up–when I get in there and continue painting, even if I’m not exactly sure which direction to take—that I begin to see the painting form. The paint knows the way. But if I give up, the paint never makes it to the canvas. This process is about trust and taking a walk in the dark. We all have a tendency to be control freaks in one way or another. The hardest choice to make is to trust that everything is going to work out perfectly. Possibly not our personal version of perfect—maybe a version that’s unexpected. There’s also an excellent by product: it feels great to not give up.

3. Know when to say *when*

The hardest part of painting is knowing when you are done. The next stroke can be overkill and take your oeuvre from subtle to amateurish. Everything has a natural stopping point. Jobs, paintings, hobbies, relationships, our lives, the extent of our feelings, patience, energy—everything has a natural stopping point. And, that is not the same thing as giving up. It’s about observing something in a particular state.

4. Staring and thinking are very important

Never underestimate the importance of percolating on it. When I stare at a canvas, I’m not having quiet time. I’m painting, I’m trying new things, and I’m planning— all in my head. There’s something so important about running the game from start to finish in your head before you actually do it in real life. Ask any Olympic athlete. It gives us the power of *I will! I can! I did!*

5. Do something completely different when you’re stuck

When I get stuck on a painting and don’t know what to do next, I’ll grab a color without looking or choose a color I seldom use. I’m amazed at how doing the least predictable thing can jog me out of a rut. The other thing I do when I’m stuck—I will hang the painting upside down and work on it. Everything’s about perspective. If you can’t imagine what something would look like from a different point of view, physically show yourself. It never fails.

6. You don’t have to wait for Inspiration—it can totally be created

I want to slap the person hard across the face who uses lack of inspiration as an excuse to not do something. You, sir, are a liar! Can I show you the thin thin, thin, thin (it’s really thin) line that separates lack of inspiration and procrastination? My friend, when you are feeling uninspired, when the muse is not whispering in your ear, there is but one thing to do. I will share my secret. It’s something I tell myself each and every time I make the horrible face because I have no motivation to create art.
Shut up and do it.
That is what I say. My gift to you. Really, quit your bellyaching and just shut up and do it.

7. If you like it, it’s good

Not everything has a measurement attached to it to let us know if it’s hit the mark. Many things, like art, are subjective. Each person has their own idea of what’s good, better, best. You know what? Your opinion is just as valid as theirs. Do not forget this.

8. There are no mistakes

Two words: happy accident. Just because you didn’t plan doesn’t mean it wasn’t meant to be. There’s something thrilling about taking control of a big piece of ugly and making it something enjoyable and pretty. And also, relax! Try being a participant in the process instead of the drum major. Your being in charge is not only way things get accomplished. Ouch, right?

9. And that’s why they made white

Footnotes avaialble at “Know when to say when”

This is really my way of saying, yet again, that there are no mistakes. Let’s say you create a painting titled *Super Ugly to the 10th Power*. Get out your white paint. Squirt it on. Start over. There is power in knowing that whatever you do, you have options. Let me make the analogy a different way. I used to be a baker and I loved it. But sometimes yummy things can come out of the oven ugly. Or gooey, in a wrong way. Do not throw out your *mistake*. This is why they made chocolate. Make frosting and drizzle. Yes, it’s a bit of camouflage, you’re sort of just putting a dress on it. Yes, it’s nowhere near the delicate pastry you might have originally intended. But will it be enjoyed? Will it reach an audience you may not have originally intended that will be just as pleased as the audience you did intend? The answer is yes…it is chocolate. And chocolate is magic.
Note to readers: every situation has a chocolate equivalent. Its up to you to discover its powers.

10. Why waste all that good pain

This is by far my favorite and most used. There will always be times in our lives when pain becomes leaden…sad things happen and they can hollow us out. These feelings are as palpable as they are oppressive. I know when you find yourself at this moment, as we all have, it’s hard to do anything that might lift you up. Try to think of pain as an ingredient, not an obstacle, to creation. But do know—it’s not a necessary ingredient. It’s really important to remember that especially once the sun has started to shine. That whole tortured artist thing…not so much.

Would you like to see the art that taught me all these valuable lessons? All my paintings hang in my virtual gallery at Pitchfork Art. See if you can pick out the ones I wanted to burn before completion…

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