Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Time and Money

The other day one of my friends posted this on his Facebook wall. If you’ve got the time, it’s absolutely hysterical and worth the read (also, the rest of my post will make more sense):

And I laughed, because the writer managed to take some cold hard facts and make them funny while making his point. And he’s right. Whoever truly believes that money can’t buy happiness is an ignorant tool.

Of course money can’t be the source of one’s happiness. Then all you have is some asshole with no friends sitting on piles of money. That’s not happiness at all, that’s someone who’s going to die alone and sad. But it can buy everything that writer said it can, which does buy happiness (if you have love, peace of mind, healthy kids and enough money to enjoy the simple pleasures in life and you still aren’t happy, you’re also an ignorant tool).

I laughed until I got to # 2, “The Best Hobbies Don’t Cost a Thing.” And I realized this is exactly what’s been going on with me lately:

First of all, there's the time issue. I write for a living now, obviously, but when I was trying to do it as a hobby? Yeah, ask me how much I felt like writing after 12 hours of work/commute and then all the other time spent doing home shit after that (eat, shower, tend to the kids, etc). Unless you wanted an article on "6 Ways I'd Like to Fucking Punch All the Truck Drivers in the Cock," all you'd get out of me is some low moans about my aching back while I stared sleepily at some Internet boobs. Creativity takes energy.

Read more: 5 Reasons Money Can Buy Happiness | Cracked.com http://www.cracked.com/blog/5-reasons-money-can-buy-happiness_p2/#ixzz1fpKbnK4y

I love to write, both as a profession and a hobby. But lately, writing at work has been insane. We just went through our busiest month, where we were all required to work a Saturday just to get caught up and took on more events than we ever have.

 My job requires tons of creativity even when we aren’t slammed and by the time 6:30 rolls around and I (sometimes) finish, my brain hurts. Then you add in the 90 minute hot yoga classes I’ve been dragging myself to or a spin on the Elliptical machine to offset the 10 hours I spend sitting, riding the harrowing public transportation home, taking a shower and cooking a meal, and good luck getting me to do a damn chore, much less write something that still has a long way to go before I can even try to turn it into anything real. Or type up my Days of our Lives interviews from a month ago. Or blog. I still haven’t unpacked the overnight bag from my girls’ night at the Bellevue Hyatt last Saturday for a friend’s bachelorette party. I have no motivation.

But tonight it hit me just how quickly time really passes. I can’t believe it’s almost 2012. I can’t believe my twenties are two months from being over. I commented on a picture of my friend’s (adorable) kid eating ice cream on her Facebook page and I realized he’s old enough to sneak ice cream from their freezer while she’s asleep. And that I can remember his mom and I doing that, staying up late and sneaking my dad’s chunky chocolate ice cream after he went to sleep, and it seems like just a couple of years ago.

And then I realized: I can use my exhaustion as an excuse. I can be one of the millions of people who say they just don’t have time to work on anything else, and it would be a valid claim. I want to puke just thinking about all the goals I have for next year that have nothing to do with writing, much less writing goals.

But I don’t want to be one of those people who wakes up and they’re 40 and everything they wanted to accomplish when they were turning 30 is still left undone. Looking back, though it seems like all I did was party and play, I’m pretty proud of what I managed to accomplish in my twenties. I want to say the same about my thirties, but for that to happen I’m going to have to step it up.

So when I’m not spending long hours at the office, coming into Camel pose in a 110 degree room, grocery shopping or doing the other mundane things I used to be able to do whenever I wanted… you’ll find me writing. You’ll find my ass in a chair in front of my laptop until I’m satisfied with what I’ve done and I’m ready to show it to all of you. I may not have the time that I used to, but the money I’m making supporting myself writing by day means nothing if I can’t use it to support my passion in the evenings.
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