I should be packing..

 Not feeling the giddiest to be posting past weddings when I should be. Updating you on the work I do with flowers is what I try to do on here, but lately all I feel is how tired I've been, consumed in the restaurant. Feeling like there's just not enough time for me to fully give to flowers, or there's not enough opportunities that allow me to do it. In the end, all this talk is just resistance. I've been reading the book, The War of Art. Talks all about resistance and how vital of a role it plays at diminishing our fullest potential. 

Work on the skoolie has been slow. I'm trying to save all the tip money I possibly can which is going directly towards the bus, but seems like it's taking longer then I thought. Frustrating sometimes. Being stuck in a job that hinders your creativity. Luckily my bosses are so kind and accommodating with me, especially when it comes to any of my flowers gigs. They always give me the time I need and never make me feel that the work I do in the restaurant is more important than my dreams. 

 I know how badly I want it with flowers.  I've taken every advantage I have gotten when it's presented before me. I guess it'll take more patience until I can delve in it full time.

I should be packing up and getting ready for my move back to the city, but Brandon has severe poison oak and it's spreading everywhere. Apparently it's contagious. Urishiol is the oily allergen found in poison oak and he thinks it's possible that there are traces of it throughout the house.  

There's not much to move. Vases, books, clothes, a couple pieces of furniture. It shouldn't be too hard. I'm pretty sure I can haul ass everything inside the bus in one shot. 

These are a couple of photos of arrangements I did on a wedding earlier this month. It's a weird thing I feel when I look back on previous work. It's that ongoing cycle of never being fully satisfied with it. In the moment, I feel so great and on top of the world, and 2 weeks later, I say to myself, "f*ck, I hate it, I could do better. Does this feeling ever change? I hope not.