Anyone need a house cleaner? OR The Existentialist Terror of Day Jobs

15 Jul

I feel like cleaning. Like finding pleasure in making things look better and relishing the satisfaction of an easy decision (“It’s dirty? I’ll clean it!”) The results of tidying are easy to measure. And wiping things down and pickings things up is relatively mindless, so one can be mindful while doing it. I want the sense of control and order that cleaning gives.

Sadly, this is not a late-blooming sense of maturity around cleanliness. Nor is a belated drive for spring cleaning. It’s a sign that things are a bit crap right now creatively.

The past few days have been a rough slog. Last week was all show, all the time, as I rewrote and rehearsed like mad to get the solo piece ready for Monday Night Marsh. It’s a relief to be able to spend some time on other projects. And it’s a bit overwhelming as well. There are so many options, so many things calling for my attention, so many loose threads to tie off as I near the end of this cycle of six-month goals.  There is comfort in an urgent deadline and the focus it brings. Now I’m back in the land of many options, of distant deadlines but needed progress, and it’s making me scattered and lethargic.

The main project turning my mind to runny egg is figuring out job options:  I am trying to figure out what day job will best support my creative work (and eventual career.) Do I start a post-production company with my friend? Do I try to develop a product and outsource its manufacture and fulfillment (ala the 4HWW?)  Do I become a bartender, tutor, or find myself a sugar mama, er, patroness? Or should I capitalize on this urge to neaten up and hire myself out as a house cleaner? Looking at all the possible jobs and career paths means facing a forest of question marks.

All of which leaves my head feeling like a gray-carpeted waiting room at a hospital. Call me when there’s a good answer on the job front.  Until then, I’m off to scrub a counter-top and rearrange some cupboards.


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