There are but so many hours in the day and a good 8 hours of 5 days a week are spent ensuring that someone else keeps pulling in money for their dreams. It’s a major challenge in patience and Jedi Mind Tricks to keep the perspective that the day job is the means to an end while I build this arting into a monetizing something that I can live off of.
Considering this promotion I have at this job I acquired last year (getting close to completing my first full year), I have the prospect of making $35,000 gross by the end of the year and that’s like... the most I’m making since I graduated in 2011. Sure, I could use my illustrious degree for some other bull shit, but ultimately, I have achieved my master plan that FINALLY worked out: get a job that doesn’t consume too much of my time and energy so that I won’t have an excuse when it comes to creating. I would like to make more money just because the cost of living is high and will continue to rise and I’d like to pay off my credit card debt and car loan sooner buuuuut...
I then done the damn thing. I work from home and am technically some degree of lower middle class. Or some shit. I have managed to get myself in a position where my brain power and womanpower aren’t siphoned from me day to day to day and it’s pretty glorious.
The downside is now I have to rekindle the flames of creativity I had when I was a kid. Maybe my unstable beginnings of “real adulthood” got me in survival mode that I couldn’t let myself be consumed with creativity: budgeting, calculating living expenses I could afford without sacrificing too much when it comes to the quality of the neighborhood I’m living in, figuring out if I can purchase a new car and how to afford it, other major things I wanna buy. Yada yada yada. All that droning is truly a kick in the genitalia for creativity. It’s even more discouraging when you look around and just see all the people you care about just complaining and struggling to get by, most of whom are still unsure of what they want. I got lost in the midst of all that.
Maybe it was last year that I made the commitment to better my adulting skills and that has made almost everything possible for where I am now. I refuse to live a life of scarcity or “struggle.” I don’t ascribe to being “broke” as an ongoing qualifier of my life: I bring on my brokeness when I go crazy and buy expensive art books but overall living conditions? Mostly comfortable. Achieving and maintaining this seems to have weakened my resolve as a creator.
Which is bull shit. It’s like I’ve internalized the “starving artist” nonsense and since I have a stable life with a dayjob, I’m out of touch of the “struggle” that would fuel my desires to create. What the fuck kind of rhetoric even is that?
I want to be obsessed. I want Project Orange 91 to consume my every waking moment. I want my projects to arouse fiery urges that I’ve constantly squashed for the numb static of the people around me. I want to spend my waking moments gushing about my projects and my creative career moves instead of bitching about what management at my company won’t do and the inconveniences of my job.
The Work World is a grueling place that requires much mental, spiritual and emotional preparation, building and maintenance. But even amidst all my bills and purchases, I keep my potential “illusion” of choice because I refuse to abide by the weaknesses of people around me: I will live the life I want on my fucking terms because I goddamn can. Be that rebellious or undisciplined--fuck it. I was born a Creative and I can’t deny that part of myself and whatever trouble it may bring me.
My obsessions and passions and abrasive creative attitude will allow me to thrive; fuck survival.