Happy Birthday: I’m 2 years old!

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I just realized that today I am 2 years old! Two years ago today, I left the corporate world and software development with one aim in mind: to wander aimlessly for a few years in search of what I wanted to do next. I've been happily unemployed ever since.
Two years. And what has happened? The first year was all about letting go: I spent three months solid playing video games. The remaining months were all about avoiding responsibility and exploring a bit. Dabbling. Wandering around Europe for a couple months. Strangely enough, I had to re-learn how to do something without a plan, without a goal (an absolute requirement for an open, creative mind).
Ever clenched your hand really tightly for several minutes, then tried to open it? 'Course you have. We all did that in elementary school. You get this weird sensation because your hand can't relax. You actually have to work to open your hand. This image stuck with me throughout that first year - having to work at opening up, to work the muscles, after having been clenched so long, so that they could naturally relax.
The second year ended up being a year of persuing - without expectations - things that interested me. Zealous dabbling... I worked on four filmmaking projects. I've begun writing on a somewhat regular basis. I photograph on a somewhat regular basis. I played music from time to time. And by the end of the year, quite unintentionally, I began to see what areas I might like to follow in the future.
Now at the beginning of my 3rd year, I've come to a point - time to choose. Will it be Door #1: Photography? Or Door #2: Filmmaking? Or Door #3: Writing? Or will I find some way to do all of them? It feels like the third year will be about choosing. Happily, the method-less method I've been using thus far seems to be working well, so I'm not going to worry about it.
But, there are a few things I've learned along the way:
1) It wasn't the job. It's so easy to say time commitment or emotional and intellectual load of my job is what's keeping me from doing My Thing, My Art. It isn't. I've been unemployed for two years and I spend almost the same amount of time doing My Things as when I had a job. Heck, I've been thinking about getting a part-time job because, well, I get bored from time to time.
2a) I'll always be busy, even if I've got nothing to do. I am incredibly effective at filling my time with justifiably important busywork, thus leaving little time for My Things. Owning my own house provides endless sources for diversion. My house has rats; gotta set traps, call exterminators, plug holes. I've got no income, so I've gotta make budgets, track them in excel, keep on top of my finances. Gotta clean out that basement so I can make a studio. If you haven't seen it yet, watch this movie.
2b) I'm very good at doing something without actually doing it. I'm a photographer. That means I want a darkroom; so I'm building one. And I need to study - so I bought about 40 books on photography to read. Plus web sites - lots of information on the web. Doisneau, Turnley, and Erwitt are my favorite photographers; gotta read up on them, study their lives, scrutinize their work. Photo group meetings. Art gallery crawls. Tons and tons of photography to do. Yet through all this, I haven't picked up a camera and clicked it's shutter. It's so easy to get lost on the ancillary tasks and forget to do the thing itself. It's just a more subtle procrastination.
2) (conclusion) I only do My Thing when I deliberately allocate time to My Thing. A few months ago, I wandered aimlessly through the labyrinth of Elliott Bay Books. By pure chance, in three separate parts of the store, my eyes fell on three books on creativity and the creative life. The unsettling synchronicity continued as the page that I chose at random in each talked about the need to allocate time to your art, to have a discipline of doing art every day. The next day I read Neil Gaiman reiterating the need to make art, always. That night, I would've had chinese, but I was too frightened to get my fortune cookie.
3) Fear is the mind killer. Fear of other's opinions. Fear of Doing it Wrong. Fear of failure. Fear of success. Fear that I might once again be diverted from my One True Calling. Fear that there is no such thing as an One True Calling. Fear that I may not be any good at what I like to do. Fear of overanalyzing. Fear of underanalyzing. With a thick Scottish accent and two thousand years of Scottish heritage, I say: "I'sall crap!"
So, though it pains me to say it, Nike has it right: Just do it.
Update: Oh drat. Today is already yesterday and tomorrow is today. Well, this was intended to go out on 1/17 as that's my anniversary.

Related posts:

  1. Happy Birthday
  2. A song of 3: my 3rd birthday

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  • 1

    Well, for me it was the job. I, like Rob, was a full-time soft­ware geek (dif­fer­ent kind of soft­ware but what the hell). However, unlike Rob I am cheer­fully equipped with wife and four (now grown) chil­dren. Between job and fam­ily (espe­cially when the kids were at home) time for pho­tog­ra­phy was scarce. I checked my print­ing notes and found that, even after our kids were grown the bulk of my dark­room time took place in the two weeks sur­round­ing Christmas and New Years – when the noted aero­space com­pany for which I worked declared a recess and the weather was mostly too drippy to go out­side much.
    I retired (early but not a minute too soon) 10 years ago this July. I found that my life closed seam­lessly around the 40 (yeah, right) hours that I had been devot­ing to my job. However, the impact was *much* greater than the “40â€?. I was never able to com­part­men­tal­ize my life to any sig­nif­i­cant extent – every time my mind went into idle, code or math­e­mat­ics popped off of the stack and gob­bled all the unused cycles. No kid­ding – I would wake up in the morn­ing and there would be the then-current prob­lem wait­ing for me. (Drove my wife nuts from time to time.)
    For four months I was really retired – hung out at the library, played in the dark­room, got up rel­a­tively late, read the paper over break­fast, etc. Then the noted aero­space com­pany offered me a half-time gig doing the stuff I really enjoyed (and not the stuff I really hated) before retir­ing. I did that for two and a half years. Problem with that was that the gig occu­pied a great deal of my atten­tion – out­side the 20 per week that I was paid for. That was espe­cially true since I really was enjoy­ing what I was doing. I did, how­ever, sal­vage a lot more dark­room time dur­ing that period than I had pre­vi­ously done.
    Parenthetically, a writer/poet/photographer/filmmaker friend who bailed the same time I did was aware enough of how his mind worked to stead­fastly refuse a part-time gig for the same rea­son. He knew it would take over his life.
    Anyway, after the 2.5 years I bailed out again and this time I meant it. I’m sure that I have done more pho­tog­ra­phy in the past seven or so years than I had in the pre­vi­ous 30. Like Rob, I have try hard to impose some struc­ture on my “workâ€? week – but it’s struc­ture that I choose. The big issue is that now when my mind goes into idle, it’s pho­tog­ra­phy that pops off of the stack instead of dif­fer­en­tial equa­tions. Again, for me it was the job — or maybe now I’ve just got a dif­fer­ent job.

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