wake me if you're out there

once upon a time i wanted to be a director. i don’t wanna be a director. certainly not in the general sense of the term & what it involves now. i love writing. don’t wanna be a writer. sit me at a desk every day and tell me if i don’t produce something worthwhile in an hour i can’t pay my bills? i’ll shoot myself, thanks. any artistic talent i have is, ehhhh. i’m not great at drawing or painting, could maybe improve with more work.

i like editing & feel i’m competent at it, but again, what does life look like if you edit for a living now? i don’t wanna sit in my 1 bedroom apartment at a desk 8 hours a day. that would make me go insane i think. much as i love editing, i’m slow at it. & it comes when it wants to and not before.

i did discover i’m pretty decent at painting objects by working my current job, but a stone is easy to paint. i know i can’t really fuck it up, if you get the paint outside the margins you can scrape it off or rough the surface, at worst you can dump chemical on it wash it out and start over. i genuinely love doing it, it’s one of the reasons i keep the job even though it’s such a rare opportunity, because i’m good at it and people see i’m good at it & it does bring me joy to see it done & know i did it.

where does that leave me for jobs? i don’t know. i think i don’t really like the idea of working for other people—i’d like to maybe build a physical skill that i could sell to anyone wherever whenever i needed it—but i don’t think i would ever want to entirely work for myself, either. i like the peace that comes with just being a cog sometimes.