Green eyed goblin
Just for the record, I've been fretting and flagellating myself ever since last week about that last post – the one in which I used the unfortunate phrase "frustrated artsy-sensitive stay-at-home mom." I hate it when I get snarky! First, because it disturbs the self-image I endeavor so desperately to maintain, in which I am a reasonably evolved, open-hearted and emotionally generous person. Which I really kind of think I am! Or at least would like to be.
The more important reason though is because I know that when I catch myself flinging jagged little poison barbs at other people, it's usually because there's something about them that I want for myself ... in other words, when I'm mean, it's usually because I'm not getting what I need. That may be true of most people, come to think of it.
So let it now be revealed that the real and true reason I used that unkind phrase is not because I believe I'm somehow artistically superior to those persons, but more because I'm jealous of what I perceive as their leisure to putter around the house all day in slippers and rustically gorgeous hand-knit sweaters, sipping endless cups of tea, checking email, taking fabulous dream-like photographs, gazing out the window, napping at will, and of course working on a never-ending stream of creative "projects."
I secretly would love to be able to live the life of a frustrated, artsy-sensitive stay-at-home mom. In fact, I already have the first three qualifications down – it's only the "stay-at-home" part that I've so far been unable to achieve (setting aside for the moment the vaguely disturbing detail that both of my children have tails).
Anywho. Today I hit an all-time low at work when I actually spent a solid half-hour of my precious life on earth laying out a story titled "Timmy to celebrate 6-month birthday." This is the kind of uncompromising, hard-hitting community journalism I deal with on a daily basis.
Although I will follow up this complaint by saying I'm still very grateful to be employed at all. And as it turns out, this time-cut may turn out to be to my advantage. I interviewed earlier this week with an interesting creative group that just happens to need someone for exactly eight hours a week, and if we do decide to work together the rate is a little more than twice what I'm getting at my regular job. Plus, the work should actually be interesting. And finally, a couple of my other sleeping clients have woken up lately as well, so there's slowly a bit of new stuff coming in from them now too.
All of which brings up the question: If I'm so desperate for time off to do art, take naps and travel, why do I load myself up with all this new work every time I find a hole in my schedule?
The obvious answer is because I always seem to be worried about money. Would it be possible for me ever to have enough money that I didn't feel compelled to work as much as I can? How much money would that take?
It's like I have this weird superstitious belief that working will magically protect me from ever having to live under a bridge – and that if I ever stop working, I'm doomed to do just that. It'll be just me and my overflowing shopping cart and my filthy sleeping bag and my ten or eleven mangy, flea-ridden dogs all milling around looking for edible garbage. When you see me, you'll look away.
A lot would have to change in my life for that to ever happen to me. But stranger things have happened to people. Even people who've worked hard their whole lives.
Someday, I would like to take some serious time off. For now, I'm just going to frame it as a goal and try to keep it in mind, and let the universe and my own imagination begin to work on making it happen. And if, in the meantime, stay-at-home humans around the globe wish to continue puttering, making crafts and drinking tea in blatant disregard of my frustrated yearning to join their ranks – I salute them.
The more important reason though is because I know that when I catch myself flinging jagged little poison barbs at other people, it's usually because there's something about them that I want for myself ... in other words, when I'm mean, it's usually because I'm not getting what I need. That may be true of most people, come to think of it.
So let it now be revealed that the real and true reason I used that unkind phrase is not because I believe I'm somehow artistically superior to those persons, but more because I'm jealous of what I perceive as their leisure to putter around the house all day in slippers and rustically gorgeous hand-knit sweaters, sipping endless cups of tea, checking email, taking fabulous dream-like photographs, gazing out the window, napping at will, and of course working on a never-ending stream of creative "projects."
I secretly would love to be able to live the life of a frustrated, artsy-sensitive stay-at-home mom. In fact, I already have the first three qualifications down – it's only the "stay-at-home" part that I've so far been unable to achieve (setting aside for the moment the vaguely disturbing detail that both of my children have tails).
Anywho. Today I hit an all-time low at work when I actually spent a solid half-hour of my precious life on earth laying out a story titled "Timmy to celebrate 6-month birthday." This is the kind of uncompromising, hard-hitting community journalism I deal with on a daily basis.
Although I will follow up this complaint by saying I'm still very grateful to be employed at all. And as it turns out, this time-cut may turn out to be to my advantage. I interviewed earlier this week with an interesting creative group that just happens to need someone for exactly eight hours a week, and if we do decide to work together the rate is a little more than twice what I'm getting at my regular job. Plus, the work should actually be interesting. And finally, a couple of my other sleeping clients have woken up lately as well, so there's slowly a bit of new stuff coming in from them now too.
All of which brings up the question: If I'm so desperate for time off to do art, take naps and travel, why do I load myself up with all this new work every time I find a hole in my schedule?
The obvious answer is because I always seem to be worried about money. Would it be possible for me ever to have enough money that I didn't feel compelled to work as much as I can? How much money would that take?
It's like I have this weird superstitious belief that working will magically protect me from ever having to live under a bridge – and that if I ever stop working, I'm doomed to do just that. It'll be just me and my overflowing shopping cart and my filthy sleeping bag and my ten or eleven mangy, flea-ridden dogs all milling around looking for edible garbage. When you see me, you'll look away.
A lot would have to change in my life for that to ever happen to me. But stranger things have happened to people. Even people who've worked hard their whole lives.
Someday, I would like to take some serious time off. For now, I'm just going to frame it as a goal and try to keep it in mind, and let the universe and my own imagination begin to work on making it happen. And if, in the meantime, stay-at-home humans around the globe wish to continue puttering, making crafts and drinking tea in blatant disregard of my frustrated yearning to join their ranks – I salute them.
5 Comments:
I hope you know you'll always have a place here with us if you needed a place to stay!! Not that anyone would ever wish for homelessness and smelliness but we'd love to have you closer some day.
Big ditto to what Brad said. Jasper would welcome a furry friend around, I know! Also, I don't know a single stay-at-home mom with that kind of spare time, so maybe you can let that jealous fantasy fade. As a stay-at-home mom of small kids (not yet school age), I don't even get to go to the bathroom alone! Really. The only three people I know who live like that are independently wealthy AND childless or post-menopausal.
Several in my blog community are exactly the 'type' of stay-at-home moms you described. And I try to not beat myself up over loving and envying them simultaneously...because, truth be told, those I really envy are the arty stay-at-home ones who DON'T have children. :)
I bounced around for years. I know what it's like to stand on a sidewalk in S.F. with two suitcases, almost no money to my name and have no idea where I was going to sleep that night. But, as I imagine you do, I had a very kind and generous support network...so I never had to sleep outside or (later) in my car. That's all just to say that things can turn on a dime (like you said)...but if it ever came to that, I think you'd find (as I did) that the world is a much kinder place than we fear it to be. Just thought I'd share that to ease your fears a bit. ;)
The central issue seems to be passing judgment on people, yourself included.
You would be the same wonderful person no matter your material circumstances.
"There but for the grace of God go I."
Hey Tina,
you ARE a generous, open-minded person. Truly. FYI, I'm unemployed at the moment, after years of working way too hard and all the while realizing i am not really ambitious, I really want more time to just stare and think, etc. etc. I am LOVING it. I bought an accordion! I'm painting. I know money is an issue. But it is essential I take this time while I can. You should take time if you can! you'll survive financially. I feel revitalized and prepared to actually get a job I will like...People are too ambitious I think, wanting success. I feel i'm reveling in failure (in our society's judgement) and growing SO much as a person. Can you say sabbatical? Go off to a retreat, or just travel....you deserve it.
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