When I posted the Work, I didn’t mean to come across as complaining and I wasn’t really in a bad place. I was attempting to express what that one moment was screaming at me. I was just tired of feeling like I am trapped on the giant cosmic hamster wheel of tedium.
Things never seeming to get better. Just one day after another and no visible end in sight to the dilemmas and conundrums.
Things undone and needing to attention. Things that need to be seen.
Sometimes I don’t feel like I am being seen. Like my problems and issues are too mundane. Too first world to count.
I know I am lucky. I know that I have been blessed with more than two decades of continuous employment. I have been everything from a model to a legal secretary. Since 2006, I have been a teacher.
It was my dream job. The dream that I let myself have.
The one that was acceptable. Honorable.
But for the last thirty years of my life, there has been another dream. The writing dream.
Many of us have it. Many of us give it up to find things that pay the bills. Dreams are pretty good at not paying the bills.
Life shouldn’t just be about paying bills. It should be about living. It is easy to get caught up in the things that we do to make the money to live. It is even understandable. The electric company won’t take a free copy of my last book as payment for next months electricity.
Paying the bills is a necessity. But, the life you choose to live doesn’t have to all the bells and whistles. It just has to have the ones that matter to you. Not to everyone will understand.
And they don’t need to do .
You just have to get to the work that makes you happy. That work that feeds more than the bills.