This is my ninth attempt at a blog post in the past two weeks.
I keep starting again from scratch because I’m of the mindset that everything I do is shit.
Really, I’m just lazy. Probably. I find it very difficult to self-motivate during my unemployment. When I have a job, I have a purpose.
Get up. Go do the thing you’re getting paid to do and do it the best way you know how to do it. Jobs are like coloring books. And bosses are like kindergarten teachers.
If you have a strict one, you color within the lines and you use conventional colors. Your elephants are gray, your whales are blue, and if you don’t label your sandwich in the fridge, it’s going to get stolen.
But if that person believes in innovation, creativity or the miracle remedy of marijuana, you have the freedom to scribble-shade your yellow elephants (yellephants) completely free of critique as long as it looks cool.
That’s the kind of freedom I had at my last job. It was liberating. I don’t think I’ve had that since I was actually in kindergarten.
If you look back to the entry I made when I left my previous employer a few months back, you will see a man with much less confidence in himself or his skills… This went third person and I feel weird about that
And my last job was chock-full of the stuff.
But sometimes when something is too good to be true, it’s because the other shoe is about to drop.
It did. It dropped hard. Right on the exposed balls of me and twenty or so other people who were thriving in that environment.
I don’t tell you this through gritted teeth. I’m not motivated by anger. Or even bitterness. I feel sadness about the loss of that world. But great art is born from such tragedies, right?
… Now I have plenty of creative outlets. But at this point in my life, almost all of my endeavors fall solely on me to make them happen.
It’s tough to do when you generally don’t have a reason to get out of bed until noon.
Self-motivation is the name of the game!!!
It’s ten o’clock. I’ve already been up for two hours because I didn’t feel like falling back to sleep in my girlfriend’s bed after she went to work… again.
The thing I’m just now starting to realize is that it isn’t about self-motivation. I’m trying to turn this into something selfish because that’s what stand-up comedy does to your perception of the world… But it really isn’t about me. It’s about you. The reader. The listener. The audience member who is kind of drunk, but still reasonably attentive. Hell, it’s even for the hammered douche who wants to air his grievances about various ethnic groups while I’m trying to have a conversation about ’90s basketball or beatboxing.
I have a duty to keep making things that you like and that I can be proud of. And to provide an outlet for others to do the same.
Whether it’s a hard-working mother of two who needs a literary break from unconditionally loving her kids in order to keep her sanity.
My old job was the kind of place where these people could meet and share ideas and work our asses off to make things we were proud of… but that job doesn’t exist anymore. Lucky for me. Lucky for them. Lucky for anyone else who needs it. There is squeezecast.com. Try it out.