Sometimes, I can’t believe I’m 30-szmmfrpha years old. According to my calculations, that means my life could be nearly half over…depending on if I take after the long-living Coburns on my mom’s side, or the Wehrlies and their poor vasculature on my dad’s side.
So here I am, 36. Two kids. A day job that pays the bills but does not feed my soul. A growing art career that – let’s be real – sometimes takes a backseat to those kids and the bill-paying. I love being a visual artist, but there are a lot of other things I would have liked to do in creative fields; and other jobs that just seemed fun, or interesting, or that I thought I’d be good at.
Is this a problem that plagues a lot of creative-types? Too much energy, but not a big enough harness? Too many ideas, and not enough time to get them all down on paper, or on the stage, or whatever the medium?
Unless there is something I don’t know about the space-time continuum, I can’t fit all my dream jobs, large or small, into one lifetime.
Maybe to truly live creatively, we all need to be a little hungry for that next project, whatever form it comes in.