My heart's not-so-secret desire is to quit the day job and dedicate myself to writing.
I have this vision of me remodeling my youngest boy's room into a craft/writing/library space. The dormer will sport a cute little reading bench. The walls on that half of the bedroom will be floor to ceiling bookshelves that will allow me to see what I actually own. The opposite wall will sport a crafting workbench and shelves for all my supplies and scrapbooking albums. In the center of the room, a simple desk for my computer and printer.
I imagine myself spending a great deal of time in this room. While Ken is busy elsewhere - working, golfing, fishing, hunting, or just playing in his pole barn - I can see myself curled up on the reading bench, book and hot tea in hand. I can also see myself scrapbooking with music or an audiobook filling the air. I can see myself sitting at my writing table, laptop open and my writing notebook near at hand. I can see all of this...but I know it's a dream and without some real effort it will never come true.
When I finally retire and build this room, I will need to set an alarm clock and treat writing like a day job. Why? Because writing is work. Sure, there are days it comes easy and the words flow, but there are days when it is painful and difficult. There are days that you lack creativity and motivation. There are days when you're certain you can't write your way out to the end of a single sentence let alone complete an entire novel.
Writing is work.
And that's where I struggle. I am a dreamer, but I'm not always much of a doer. I say I want to write but the barefaced truth is I often don't. Instead, I pick up the next novel I want to read or turn on the television. I binge watch another Netflix show. I add every movie on HBO or Showtime that I've ever missed to my DVR. I play video games, one after another. What I usually don't choose to do is to write.
That's right, I avoid the work I say I want to do the most. Yet, every day I get up when the alarm clock tells me to and drag myself off to the day job with it's health insurance, 401 K, and steady paycheck. This is proof that I'm a responsible, sensible adult.
I've got the degrees, the good job, a happy marriage, healthy kids, and a sassy puppy that thinks he's the boss. My husband and I have nice play toys and are able to take lovely vacations. I have reliable transportation, food is always readily available, and I can afford to replace worn-out shoes or out-of-date clothing. I have done everything society (and my husband) told me I must do in order to succeed and I did. I win at adulting.
And yet there are days when I feel defeated and sad, when I feel as if my soul is being crushed. I have days when I wonder what life might have been like had I fought just a little bit harder for my dreams? What if I would have insisted on making writing my day job? What if reading, video games, and television were the rewards for a day's effort at the keyboard?
These questions and my own shortcomings haunt me. I think this is why I struggle when my oldest boy tells me he wants to bet his future on creating a Youtube channel. The dreamer in me understands and sympathizes. I want to write books for a living; he wants to entertain the masses on Youtube. Money could be made with both ventures, but the success rates are low and the risks are high. So very, very high.
When I was his age, I went the safe route. I went to college and got one job after another until I finally ended up where I am today. I live a really good life even if I'm not always satisfied with my professional life. I have two of the most important things in life: love and security.
Those are two things I desperately want for both of my boys. I want them to be in healthy, loving relationships, and I want them to have stable and secure futures. I want them to be able to go to the doctor when they are sick. I want them to be able to own their homes and have reliable transportation. I don't want them to worry about having enough food to eat or clothes to wear. Beyond that, I hope they are able to enjoy life by being able to take vacations and buy the toys that make them happy, just like their dad and I do.
When your kid is a dreamer, though, you worry that life is going to be painfully hard for him. You worry that his dreams will drive away the love of his life because she can't understand or accept his unwillingness to pursue a smart, sensible career. You worry that he'll struggle to pay his bills, that he'll end up homeless or, more likely, living in your basement. You worry what will happen to him when you're no longer around to be his security blanket and back-up plan.
I have always been a dreamer, so I understand why he wants what he wants. I just hope he can see the sense in having a back-up plan that's a little more down-to-earth. Going back to college is a good start but, just like the dream of building a large enough YouTube presence to be profitable will take work, so, too, will getting the degree. I just hope he's up to it. I hope he knows the universe owes us nothing and that anything you want to get out of this life has to be earned.
Comments
Post a Comment