[1145] Try Hard

I feel “teetery.”

I’ve been approaching a “mild panic” about my financial situation lately. Are there a dozen ways to contextualize it to not sound so bad? Sure. But that’s not the point. The point is about the amorphous blobs of thoughts and contexts that allow for my present moment altogether. The point is a moving target of when and whether the world in which we’re situated “makes sense” is “fair” or whether there are creative ways to exercise “privilege” to “make things better.”

That’s a lot of air quotes, no?

I can’t easily summarize the impact the dialogue around me growing up had on my attitude, goals, and general orientation. It was palpably felt. When you’re a “smart kid,” when “you should be a lawyer” because of your smart-ass mouth, when you get complimented and granted access or privileges, the shit adds up into a complex. You believe, deservedly or otherwise, that you’re destined for a certain kind of life and/or “greatness.” In a school or home environment, that shit can compound in extremely misleading ways.

So you get older, and hopefully go through a series of humbling and sobering experiences. At the same time, if you’re me, you still seem to rise to positions of leadership or greater responsibility or demonstrated capacity even in the contexts that truly give no fucks about you beyond what can be mercilessly squeezed out. Ok, undue or overt praise aside, you’re still able to demonstrate value and illicit positive feedback in many contexts over many years, but it’s not translating into enough money or enough free time to justify what you’re putting in.

A “wrinkle” in your experience is that you tend to be “all or nothing.” If you’re gonna work a “normal job,” you work the fuck out of it, and aren’t thinking too hard about vacations, extra indulgences beyond maybe eating out or home maintenance, and you ride that for as long as your sense of agency, efficiency, and moral compass can stand the abuse.

For the better part of the last year, it’s been back to the kind of life you had in your 20s. You’ve got “too much” free time, very few people, if anyone, to spend it with, and maybe, but mostly not, the resources to capitalize on the time as you watch TV, maybe pull off a woodworking or yard project. I don’t know at what point it started to feel right to talk in an impersonal or birds-eye way, but here we are.

Whatever you want to say about how I budget, there was a genuine plan in place to have been already making a sustainable amount of money with a position offered to me months ago that, today, fell through until “maybe next year.” This compounds my sense of being fucked and harks to my overall disposition that feels generally hopeless and distrusting of the broader environment. In focusing my attention towards the, exactly 2, people in my life who have been explicitly supportive, there’s some hope of putting together some longer-term sustainable and foundational pieces, but I do not wish to become some kind of unruly dependent.

So often the “answer” to my sense of foreboding, danger, or “problem” is “wait.” I hate that, because I don’t know if it’s correct. I just know that moving, or moving disingenuously costs money, credibility, and time that might be vitally needed to sure up bases and potential in areas I care more about.

I’m healthy. I have tools. I have vehicles. My brain still works. I’m closer to 40 than 30, but in a modern world, isn’t that practically like saying I’m a baby? There’s always someone older and condescending, right? What you wouldn’t give to be 40-something again and here I’m whining?

When I consciously decided to center time as the thing I was most concerned with having, it made the choice of whether or not to find a 9-5 thing become a considerably higher opportunity cost proposition. I’d rather be free and “doing nothing” than driving to work, sitting around and waiting at work, in a pointless meeting, or actively causing harm playing by normative rules that actually don’t serve who I’m working with. “Counseling” that teaches you complacency and infinite insurance billing isn’t helping.

I don’t want to feel myself making the calculation of “just how much am I willing to go into debt?” It occurred to me that I’ve been in debt for approximately 8 years, but it’s always felt manageable even as my priorities have shifted. I was willing to be in debt to have my initial shed. Then to make all the fixes and livability investments, then to build the tool base for more work. Then to invest in Allie. Then to invest in Byron. Then to just go to every show. Then to invest in grant-writers and business promotion.

My debt spending isn’t precisely frivolous, and, to this day, I’m not even half as in debt as the amount I was supposed to make had I not been fucked, stolen from, or otherwise had my time wasted. I find that more than a little curious and perhaps the anchor to my sense of injustice. If the people who maliciously and deliberately simply got me what I was owed, I’d be 10K in the black. Provided I outlast them, I’ll be lucky to get what they owe when they die.

The broadest point is that, for someone “like me,” it’s ridiculous that I should ever be in any amount of debt for any reason. I’ve not pissed away funds on addiction, ineptitude, or things like you hear people spending or losing money on and you go “Really, motherfucker?” I live in a shed. I don’t have dependents. I don’t have giant medical bills nor school debt. My story is as much an indication of the generally shit jobs and pay and prospects as it is about any series of things you may want to highlight about my choices.

That is, I could absolutely just sit around and do nothing, see no shows, eat no food that isn’t from a food bank or with a SNAP card. I could play video games, watch shows, play instruments, indefinitely, for free, for as long as my body and mind let me. I could play around with the hundreds of wood pallets on all of the tools. That sounds, comfortable, right? Comfort-ish? Privileged? But is it “meaningful?” Is it the right thing to do? Whatever you want to make of existence, it’s calling to me to set a certain kind of example. It’s telling me to be in the world. It’s shown me dozens of areas where me fucking around in my field would suggest a level of selfish indulgence that just does not register as the correct thing to do.

So where the fuck do I belong? Soon, it’ll be helping my dad with a couple grave-maintenance tasks and my friend with getting her new house in order. I have a client at 6. My cats need me to go buy more food. I’m severely under-utilized.

I’m the kind of person where no matter what I do I will feel like there is “more.” That’s a disposition thing regardless. I can build a shoe rack that gets compliments and took me weeks of learning things and overcoming frustrations, and the first thing I said at the fist compliment was, “You have no idea how many things I fucked up trying to make that.” I did the same thing when my dad told me he liked a little song I put together in playing with and learning some recording software. I didn’t say thanks, I called it dog shit, and I guess by extension my dad’s taste? We like the same music though…and there are definitely moments and vibes from the song I enjoy as well.

TV? I can’t watch the 600 shows I already have, I need to find a new list and at the 28 “missing.” Music? Maybe you have 1 or 2 songs I heard I liked, so let’s get that discography on a playlist. Get good at one instrument? Why not buy 7 and kinda suck at them all. I have 50 video games I’ve never even popped into a system, and 13 systems, 2 of which I play extremely occasionally. Why even mention this stuff? It’s all symptomatic. I have “the world” at my fingertips across time-spending options, but their testimony only goes so far. Do you know anyone who doesn’t work on tour or live above a venue who has averaged seeing 100 live shows each year for the past 3?

I fucking wrote like 10 more paragraphs after this that got deleted. Mother fucker.

At the end of the day, I want to fit somewhere. I don’t want to be desperately searching for ways to look presentable and adult. I don’t want to subject myself to the bureaucratic games and self-immolation to appear normal. If I’m one to hyper-focus and creatively iterate to match my values, I still want that housed in something coherent and consistent. I don’t know what that looks like, but I think I’m obligated to think about and try to create it every day.