For the last two months, I’ve had the luxury of being a budding creative entrepreneur. I woke around 7am, had breakfast and coffee, took a walk with my mom, and then got to work in my home sewing studio. I’ve made great progress developing designs, drafting patterns, finding and testing materials, and meeting kindred spirits. It has made me incredibly happy.
Then, a couple weeks ago, an interesting thing happened: I went back to work. You know, a J-O-B. Back to full-time, salaried, benefits-imparting, work. It was my plan all along to get such a job; my full-time creative entrepreneurship was really a lucky opportunity presented when I relocated to North Carolina from NYC without a job. I’ve been searching for a standard paying gig all along, because a) the whole money not growing on trees thing and Sunday Shift being waaaay off from providing me with a living wage and b) I actually enjoy the intellectual challenge and social interaction that comes with an office job.
And I’m really quite excited about this job, which, it so happens, has essentially nothing to do with sewing, fashion, sustainability, or entrepreneurship. What I’m less excited about is the double life of an office job professional and an evenings-and-weekends creative. So far, that’s how my adult life has worked. I’ve set as my heroes individuals like William Carlos Williams, who was both an incredible poet and a full-time physician for forty years.
Thus far, the main drawback has been the lack of decent daylight during my at-home hours to take photos for this blog. I’m off on my morning commute just as the sun’s morning rays reach through the windows. By the time I’m home, I’m too hungry and tired to remember to get out my camera and catch what I can before the sun sets.
There is no light—
Only a honey-thick stain
That drips from leaf to leaf
And limb to limb
Spoiling the colours
Of the whole world.
(From “A Love Song,” by Williams Carlos Williams)
But I’m working on it.