It was 1999 when I embarked on the project, and back then I could have accurately been described as a young woman at loose ends. After finishing college, I worked first as a VISTA volunteer and then as a salesgirl at a toy store, before settling into the vague position of “director of special projects” for a small nonprofit. I had a lot of ideas about what I wanted to do with my life, many of which were grand and none of which stuck. I applied to programs to teach English in both Indonesia and Mexico, then declined both after getting accepted. I decided I would open a home portrait studio but did nothing more than buy a giant roll of white paper and a huge piece of black felt. I had always wanted to be a singer, so I tried busking out on Sixth Street, but then quit that too after a few weeks, when a cop told me to move along. I was not alone—I was living in slacker-era Austin, Texas, where every other person was a musician/barista/actor/minotaur. Then there were people who seemed to be composed of nothing but the slashes themselves, like my neighbors.
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