What is mine? Ceaselessly, my creativity pours into a pocket reserved for something I didn’t create. I’m giving it up willingly though- I have to remind myself. Creativity in exchange for an on-the-job business and marketing education, as well as financial security to hold myself stable for a time.
I haven’t written a piece for myself in months. I get confused about where the lines lie now. In the past, it didn’t matter where any boundaries were set- I could blurr them as much as I wanted because my passion was my hobby; I used the furtive energy I felt to fuel my accounts of adventure and travel, sending, selling and posting to things not related to my day job. Now I’ve found a day job that pays me to do what I was doing already, though in a greater volume and with less personal affects.
Am I good at this? How long do I want to do this? Do I want to go live in a van for a year and follow that desire to generate stories and moments with others? Where is it I want to end up? Or is it to hole myself away, half-attached to the real world via a contracted string and half connected to the small town I then call home. Getting a finger on the pulse of the local veins and knowing all who lived there. Greeting customers with a piping hot coffee after waking at 4:30am to open the small town shop. Catching up with the teachers who mill through on their way to work, the kids after or during school and then retreating to my studio nook to keep tabs on the content I manage and see what my mind produces for me for the day.
That’s what I want. I want it all; small town, big life- a hand in both pots and never happy to settle for anything less than being integrated to everything and knowing all that’s going on. I’m an undercover gossip queen; royalty of rich-life (meaning to me ‘fulfilled’); and a host of friends whom I can greet and check in on and know their lives (not money money rich). I want enough money to keep me from worrying about it; and no more, no less. I want enough money so I can join a yoga studio and buy a friend a drink when they want it and guiltily purchase another pair of shoes I don’t need, but that I want because I think they’re pretty. I want enough money so I don’t fret about paying rent for the month or whether my car is technically legal to drive because I haven’t paid insurance since I need to purchase ticket home to see my mom and she can’t help me with the fare.
I felt the growing richness of my life this week coming back from a trip which was oh-so-welcome. Friends texting me to see where I was; what was I doing and could I come hang out because they missed me? I walked into a home this morning on the east side and was hit with a great barrage of hugs and “How are you?”s and faces that lit up when they saw me.
Distance makes the heart grown fonder and you don’t know what you got til its gone. We didn’t have to pave paradise, but its so nice to know you’re wanted when you leave.