To my chagrin, I recently got a promotion at my day job. The tantalizing prospects of finally breaking the $15 per hour threshold makes me wary however. Have I traded my dreams for a better paycheck, or will I endure the bi-vocational hell of uncertainty a little while longer? It's not that I can't work. Far from it! It's just not what I'm passionate about. Inventory specialist is not a career field that builds brotherhood with the common man. Rather, I feel it will transform me, align me with darker purposes, until I am like Sméagol turned Gollum, a ghastly wraith in a cave, descending from the shadows to haunt some poor soul that placed a pallet where it ought not be.
You see, the "day job" is a place where we go to die, where we drink the Lethe waters of forgetfulness and pass on into relative obscurity. We should not be proud of it, but abhor it. Seriously! People would graduate from college and just get a job and work for 40 years, then retire. That's not for me. I want to do what I am built to do, and that's tell stories.
These passions are what we battle on a regular basis. It doesn't matter what career we choose. Everyone has that thing they really want to do. "Do it," I say.
The time is coming for me to buy my research materials for my upcoming Sequart book. It's rather surreal to me, to do this now, of all things. I've never written non-fiction. This will be one hell of a starting point, but I'm confident. Thus far my word count on Sequart is in the high 70,000s and rising, that's a 150 page book, and I've been only writing a year for Sequart. I plan to do that, but in 6 months. Let's get to it!
I can do this, right?