I Hate Working, But I Need Money

I bought myself one of those cute mechanical keyboards that the snobs – I mean! – the cool people of Reddit are sporting nowadays. It was nearly $100, which is absurd for peripheral equipment, but I deserve a functional treat to get me through my wage slavery – I mean! – my job that I am super grateful for! The colour scheme of my new keyboard is a combination of pastel pink and yellow, a stark contrast to the shade of my soul when my alarm goes off in the morning.

I strive to be an optimistic person, I really do. However, having reached adulthood, it is hard to grin through everything without developing TMJ, especially when my external reality does not match what was promised to me by society when I was growing up.

I was told that if I got a university degree and put deodorant on, I would gain meaningful employment after graduation and even one ounce of work ethic would launch me into a series of promotions and pay raises. Following these simple steps would lead to my own house, car, etc., in essence, the American Dream. To be fair, I do have a house (small), a car (offloaded to me by my father after he got a better one for himself), two cats (I probably have toxoplasmosis), and a loving husband (no additional comment, he’s great). Pretty good, right? But this package also came with crippling debt, no savings, and an addiction to escapism, so I’m not sure if I should be happy or what.

In an effort to disassociate from my bank account balance, I crave the pursuit and mastery of a creative hobby. I am currently an office lackey, but love to daydream about people vying to purchase my amazing works of art. What those masterpieces are or even what medium, I could not tell you, but one day, I will be the next Van Gogh (wait, I think he had to die first). And I’ll be rich and famous (yeah, he definitely suffered and died first). Then I can hand in my two weeks’ notice by slamming it onto my boss’s desk because I will be so high on power.

Should I learn a craft for the sake of moneymaking? Probably not, but I am a product of my culture, what can I say? We’re expected to monetize our hobbies, otherwise what is the point? Creating art for the sake of creation is now reserved for the ultra-rich. I wonder if there was a time when you could buy art supplies without worrying about recovering the cost. Now, the art needs to pay for itself. For example, I like to crochet but every time I come across an exciting new amigurumi pattern, I realize the cost of the yarn, filling, and safety eyes far exceeds anything I could expect to receive in return. As a poor with barely any capital, this is not a sustainable way to feed my artistic itch. UGH, how am I supposed to become rich and famous without already being rich and/or famous? BOO.

So here I am with this blog. Writing is both cheap and cathartic for me. And I can do it at work when I’m supposed to be focusing on my job. Win-win?! I think so, ladies and gentlemen.

PS It cost me $60 to start this blog, MOTHERFU—