Anyone who pursues a career as an actor, musician or writer, knows that there are dues to be paid to the elusive talent gods. We are prepared to suffer for our art. Hand out that rejection of my latest novel; go ahead … give me a ridiculous deadline I’ll have to give up eating and sleeping to meet. I can take it, I’m a writer. But, jeez, why didn’t anyone warn me about the “day job” torture. The expectation that I should actually care about a job I must do because I need things like electricity, and an internet connection. Well, that’s just a totally unreasonable expectation devised by mad men. Unfortunately I’m cursed with the burden of a responsible nature, further complicated by the inability to say no, and a terrible need for acceptance from everyone I’ve ever met or may meet in the future.
Recently, I decided I had to simplify my life; after all, I’m not getting any younger. I took a look at my schedule and nearly decided it was less overwhelming to just keep doing it all. I won’t bore you with the details. Anyway, I was examining my list of jobs, committees, commissions and groups, perusing my list of commitments to friends and family, and groaning over the list of household chores that clutter up my life when I came to the conclusion that I am an idiot. It is true that I have more waking hours than most people, insomnia has been my friend since I was a kid. But if I applied all the hours I spend on committees, commissions and groups- on writing… hey! I’d be banging out a couple of books a year. It took me about a week of haggling, debating and discussion, but I can announce that I have simplified my life. I gave up housework and friends.