How wrong is it that I wish I were unemployed? I know, it is not a pleasant row to hoe, and I have many friends who have been struggling in the current chaos. I don't want to be unemployed, robbing Peter to pay Paul, facing winter with even more uncertainty. But I would love to not have to spend so much of my precious time enslaved to the workaday world. To spend hour after tedious hour shackled to a desk, making money for someone else, dealing with issues for others, remaining bright and cheerful, the only optimist on the premises. It wears me down. No, it is not a soul killing job, but it is energy sucking, and without challenge or fulfillment.
What would I do if I didn't spend the bulk of my waking hours working for a pittance? What wouldn't I do?! Oh dear gods, the things I could and would do. I know, so many people say this, and instead learn the joys of hours spent with Judge Judy, The View, Oprah. I can guarantee you, that would not be me. If I could spend time, real time, solid blocks of time, focused on creating, I can only imagine what would come of it. Creating what? Everything. I would write, paint, draw, sculpt, sew, cook, garden. I would make silk banners, totem animal plaques, Pookas, gloriously painted floor cloths. I would finish my shop, my gym, my patio. I would paint murals on my walls, refinish floors, clean my gutters. From the fantastic to the plebeian, the fun to the profitable, I would do it all. My mind scampers down the path of "If Only" on a daily basis, dreaming, hoping, wishing. For a few brief months I worked part time, and loved it. The feel of semi-retirement from the real world, the fabulous hours spent on my own pursuits. It was absolutely dreamy.
I have so many visions, creations, words, projects, artworks, floating around inside my skull, waiting to burst forth upon an unsuspecting world. So many, that in the brief time I do have to work on my pleasures, I am nearly dysfunctional as they all try to come tumbling out in a discordant mass. Jumbled together, no cohesion, simply chaos. It takes time to sort through all the ideas just to get a grip on the one that is beckoning, begging to be worked on, ripe for the plucking. Being gainfully employed often seems like so much energy expended, so much time wasted, so much creativity quashed.
How am I to ever develop my own arts into a way of life, a way to make a living, if I am forced to focus so much time and energy working for The Man, living paycheck to paycheck? I imagine I could do it if I decided that I did not want to have a modicum of a real life. No fun. No companionship. No playdates. That is not an option. And so I plot and scheme, let my mind wander the paths of "If Only," squeeze in a few moments here and there to unleash my creative mind. My life is a juggling act of epic proportions at times. Difficult. Busy. Frantic. Chaotic. Fabulous. Amazing. I do love my life.