What does it take to cut a perfect square?

The other day I was helping my boss cut out these squares. You’d think cutting out a square would be as simple as following the lines with scissors. But not for me. Not one of my squares looked alike. They were all different. They looked like a ransom note letter, not a book for professional use.

This, too, is a gift.

I am not a perfect square. All of my creations are different.

I’ve decided to take a specialty course at Marinello in April. It’s going to be for 5 Sundays, all about the Fundamentals of Makeup. I do not know if this will further a career for me in any way. I do know that learning new things is hard for me. My cousin just said, a few minutes ago:

“Anything is rocket science if you’ve never done it before.”

What a true statement. I’m afraid. Of looking the fool, of being forced–with my hands tied behind my back–of saying, I do not know everything.

Well, I don’t.

I had a dream recently. In the dream, there are a bunch of people sitting around a table, discussing a story. I think they’re publishers. They continue to discuss the main character, what to do with him, how to make him come alive. Someone calls me out in the group, its a woman. She says I can help. So I begin to ask questions about this main character. Is he someone I’d want to be friends with? Is he someone you’d be friends with? I am asked, how is that relevant? I say, how is it not? Think. After a few moments I am talked out. They can’t hear me. I can’t hear me.

But for a few moments they needed me.

I was editor.

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