Money…cash, moola, smackeroos, loot, dough, cabbage, cheddar, lettuce (I am suddenly a bit hungry for some reason) the stuff that we get up a 05:00 for and spend two thirds of our lives trying to make as much as possible of so we can survive.
It is one big incoherent bowl of soup. Trying to be “successful” that is. They told us to follow our dreams; they said we could be anything. Except don’t try and be anything that does not make any money. Especially don’t think about traveling the word because that costs money.
Growing up to be something is always linked to a job of some sort. How many of us become an astronaut? Better yet how many of us become what set out to be and find out it makes us miserable?
“You want to be a mother?” they would scoff at the adolescent girl who did not want to make it big in the business world like mom and dad had hoped. “But what about a career? Don’t you want to be successful?” they would persuade.
What about the under appreciated artists of our time. We are told that if you cannot make a career out of it then you are not successful in it. Writing; publish a book first, painter; sell a few paintings first, musician; bring out a CD first. If we on the other hand don’t achieve our dream of becoming something and end up working in admin then what did we grow up to “be-come”…nothing?
Imagine for a moment your younger self sitting in your very first job interview. Perhaps you just finished your degree in whatever and you’re nervous because you are the proud owner of a metric ton of university debt before you even set foot in that interview room.
Maybe the wall had a cheap painting hanging on it or a promotional poster if you went into retail like so many of us reluctantly do. You stare at it a bit too long before remembering where you are. Eye contact, shake hands, confidence you think to yourself trying to convince that you have any control over what will happen in that room, only you secretly know it is all a throw of the dice and you might as well be trying to control the weather. “Maybe an evil genius is hiring henchman?” you think on the back of being able to control the weather.
Just then your name is called in much the same way your name was called in school right before the principal dishes out some old fashioned corporal punishment.
That day had a big impact on us, maybe more than it should have whether we got the job or not. Now imagine if our first job interview was nothing more than that, an interview for a job. Imagine a generation of dedicated mothers and fathers, a generation of artists that can create without pressure because they enjoy their admin jobs and come home to enjoy expressing creativity equally as much instead of hating your job and your expression because unless you are Taylor Swift being a full time musician means being a part time bum.
Brian for one has been robbing me blind with commission fees and a pending lawsuit. Something about his living conditions…I wonder if he is less brain and more leech sometimes.
