Left at the Alter

I took a moment to be in this energy. Somewhere in those moments I had let the photos drop to the bed. I raked them altogether to place back in the envelope and noticed there was writing on the back of one. It said “Follow your heart, follow your mind, follow your own advice. I’m staying in PH1. I flipped it over and it was a picture of me standing on the lit up, red rectangle right next to my sculpture the photo had been edited to make the red around the tile glow bright and the text within was made bolder. Torre shot me a glance and I smiled back like everything was good. I smiled back like there was nothing to be worried about. 

I sat up in the bed as I realized she had really been around for the whole shebang. No kidding, if someone were writing my life story and didn’t first interview her, it wouldn’t be worth the read. She was there for all the other guys that I thought I would marry that never proposed and the ones that fell in love with me while I was losing interest. She was there to tell me when I was moving too fast but stopped the ‘I told you so’s’ back in college, early college. She was the one I could count on to take me out for a girl’s night and tell me that I needed to redirect my energy into myself when I had another failed relationship. 

“I hate to say it sands,” she told me once over drinks, “but I think a lot of this is you. It’s not your fault, you just need to reset and get to know yourself. Trust, you do it like this, you will know sooner who you want to spend your time with. You grown enough to know now that you ain’t getting none of that time back. You have no time to be wasting,” she sipped her cocktail, made a face, and nodded. She turned her attention back to me and reiterated, “None.”

 She was right on multiple levels. Yes, it was definitely me, and no I didn’t have time for the foolery. Since I opened my art studio in Decatur, I had even less time. Time had never been a friend of mine and to account for that, I only knew one speed, fast. This gave my relationships a certain level of predictability. I would fall in love quickly and then realize he never fit into my big picture like I initially thought he could. I was a fan of the one and done theory and once I decided that you had no place in my future, I took immediate action to ensure you were no longer in my present. Torre once said that I held break up dates like it was an office meeting, only the guy would leave not knowing if he had gotten fired or promoted. It usually went down the same. We drive separate to a public place, I would pour out my concerns over steak and wine and end it, offering to cover my half of the bill. I stopped seeing the benefit of keeping a man around as a friend after a failing relationship so when the evening came to a close, so did we. I could write the manual on cutting someone off. 

 James was no different, our breakup was almost textbook. Things were going well, and he was an ok guy. He was there when I signed up for the contest that changed the trajectory of my life. He also mentioned how he loved the fact that I would go for anything even contests that were above my level I was not immune to falling victim to that self-loathing, hater in my head. She questioned if I deserved a seat at the table despite working harder than a lot of my counterparts to get there. I recognized the red flag when I would voice these concerns and he would consistently contribute to the wrong narrative.

He was with me when I received the letter in the mail and initially, he was my date to Cali, where they were going to announce all of the state winners. They were commissioning me to design and build a sculpture for Centricity Park in my hometown’s backyard, Atlanta. It was amazing news for me and meant great things for my studio. Historically, however, grand things like this meant death was around the corner for my relationship. I took out my planners and got to work quickly, formulating a plan and filling in due dates. I strategized over how much money and time I would need. It took three days to solidify my plan, I’m not sure I even slept. I reviewed it; I could not find a place where James would fit into it. The breakup was civil, and I immediately went home thereafter to work on further fleshing out my plan. James was great but I honestly don’t even know if I felt it when it was over. Maybe I never missed the guys because I was so used to throwing myself into work. The feeling that came from executing a plan and succeeding has always brought me way more pleasure than any relationship. Creating art was orgasmic,  you don’t need a relationship for that.

My G-spot was buried deep in my frontal lobe where not many of the guys I had dated could reach. Those that could lacked the consistency to do so. Everything was cool in the beginning; they were always amused to be dating an artsy girl that was able to capitalize off of her creative abilities. I had been lucky when I discovered my love for the arts young. My father had a wallet that said I should have what I wanted. That coupled with my type A personality set me up to live whatever life I saw fit. All arrogance aside I was a very beautiful woman. I wasn’t always easy to understand and valued my alone time which left the door wide open for complaints from my insecure fellows.  I wasn’t looking for someone to feed my ego, I needed someone in my corner who could change my life. I was craving a shift. A shift like the one my father gave to me when he agreed to pay for my education, a direct reward for my hard work in high school. The kind of shift I received when I purchased my studio. One that would turn my life on an axis like winning this commission.  

 I sought other artists looking for a shift. Those are the mentees I craved at CassArt Studio. I built it to be a safe space for artistic minds to come together, collaborate and grow. A place where no one would judge you for staying true to yourself. A place where you can say you are a creator and may as well have said you were a Medical Doctor judging by the reaction of those around you.  Most important, this was a place where you could develop your craft being mentored by Cassidy Jones, the wildly talented and fearless sculptor of Atlanta, or whatever the Creative Loafing publication posted about me.

When an article like that is printed in your hometown it brings big business and my mentees came hungry. It’s said that if you are the best in the room you are in the wrong place and that is a major reason they come here. I was here for all of it. After my win was announced, I hired some help and opened the door to more classroom. My plan was coming together and the joy it brought was unmatched. I purchased this building with 4 rooms, and two mentees.  The vision, however, was always to have seven rooms. Seven is my favorite number, the number of completion. 

My 26^th year was being damn good to me. Word was out about who I was and the type of art I created. The dam had been broken and the flood of  emails and phone calls of people wanting to meet with me began. I got a few calls from colleges wanting me to do a TED talk on my uncanny teaching methods. Things were happening fast, like I was speeding toward the finish line. Only I was the type to turn my finish line into a new beginnings line. This was the dream, doing what you love, watching others fall in love with it and repeating.