Putting it out to The Universe

I want to attract a pile of money. It does not have to be a fortune. It does not have to be millions of dollars. I don’t want to not work. I don’t even really, “believe,” in retirement. I believe in finding some way to earn a living-a comfortable living-doing something I love.

I want to work my passion for my keep. I don’t want to work it as a hobby. I want to make a living at something that taps into my soul, my spirit, my passion, my intellect and education. I seriously want to earn my living at something that is better than meaningless but necessary.

The thing about a creative endeavor is that quite often inspiration comes at odd hours. With me, once that spark hits, I have to move on it or the flame extinguishes or, dies down so that my motivation decreases or even evaporates.

If this spark erupts at late hours of the evening and I have to be at a job, in the morning that does not renew my soul, it’s ….,frustrating. I know all the art people out there who are reading this can relate.

One of my bookshelves.

As a psych major, I had the opportunity to write a couple of research papers on creativity and intelligence and their relation to each other. I thought I was headed to grad school to study the memory associations of high creatives versus low creatives. We already know high creatives have a greater number and variety of associations to certain stimuli. For example, If I ask people to write down the things they think of when I say the word,”shoe,” the high creatives will generally have more word associations versus the low creatives. In my reading I learned that it is possible to train your brain to be creative at certain times of the day. This, however,requires an open schedule. It is next to impossible to do when you have a work schedule that shifts with the whim of your employer.

Our society is not kind to the artistic. We have to work jobs we don’t love and push our passions into the space reserved for hobbies. My ex-husband deals with this everyday. He’s one of the most talented photographers I’ve ever known. He’s become worn down by working meaningless jobs.

My friend, Pat, likewise, is an extremely talented artist. She mostly draws and paints. We met in January 1970 at Oakhurst Elementary, in Largo, Florida and when I first saw a drawing of a horse she had done I was blown away. It was far more detailed and exhibited talent far ahead of the fourth grade that we were in.

We’ve been friends ever since and were roommates (Lordy, there’s blogs of material there..LOL) when we attended USF. She majored in Fine Arts. I was on the other side of campus in the Social Science and Arts and Letters buildings. I loved visiting the Fine Arts building. The vibe and energy was a buzz. Later, when I dated, Very Hairy Scary Gary (he wanted to write and direct horror films and he fancied he had Plant/Daltrey hair. Google the The Who and Zeppelin) who was also a fine arts major, I spent many overnights with him in that building helping him edit his films. This was the 80’s-90’s. Film editing was done by hand. We were loopy and red-eyed by 6am.

Pat was smart. She found something artistic she loved that she could earn a living doing. She became a hairstylist and she’s an excellent one. She also paints commissioned pet portraits.

Not all of us could find that juxtaposition of being passionately artistic in one medium and finding something satisfying but indirectly related to the prominent creative endeavor. And then, not all artists are as driven and can live with keeping their passions on the fringes.

I’m not the fringe kind of creative. When I delve into anything, writing, photography, school, even romantic relationships, I go deep and focused. With romantic partners, when I am truly in love, I get so focused I don’t even notice other men, unless something behaviorally or physically reminds me of the man I love. I’m that way with school; I could spend all day studying or reading and hanging in the library. I’m the same with writing and photography. I just hate it when something less important to my soul and self expression gets in the way.

I don’t mean to give the impression I’m lazy and refuse to work. I’m grounded enough to be realistic and know I have to make the sacrifices to pay my way through life. I just wish that culturally we valued art more.

That’s why I dream of getting just lucky enough to have living money to support me until I can build a way to earn my keep by writing.

I love words as much as I love chocolate and coffee.

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