Impatience

It has been a week since the acceptance/rejection letters should have been mailed out from the Springville Museum of Art. I spent too much money to try to get into the Spring Salon. I bought two encaustic boards to look professional instead of my homemade variety. I spent a full tank of gas to drive the four hours to physically place my work into their hands. That's an eight hour round trip not including the hour and half at Walmart trying to find a nice Sunday dress for my oldest daughter. Apparently fashion trends forgot the tall 11 year old size. So here I am pacing trying to think of how I will respond to the notice. If it's a rejection, then I foresee myself wanting to throw my art material all over the room and giving up on art. I'm not making a living or even influencing anything with my work. Makes you feel worthless after awhile. Then I imagine if my work was actually accepted. I see myself jumping and squealing, waving the letter around. When I have this thought, I quickly jerk myself back to the rejection scenario because I don't want to set myself up for disappointment. If only the notice will come so I can move on with my excitement or disappointment. I'm bored waiting.