Movies entranced me as a kid. So much I thought I wanted to be an actor. Alas, performing is not in the wheelhouse of introverts. It’s said one can overcome stage-fright; even so, if it takes the fun out of something, why do it? Sans desire for applause, or even attention, there’s no point. I knew I just liked costumes & the thought of pretending to be someone else. I could do that by myself without somebody else putting words in my mouth. I’m partial to my own words.

For a while I wanted to be an archaeologist. I don’t know exactly what put that thought in my head, but I suspect it was a mummy movie. Also I’d read a book about the discovery of King Tut’s tomb that made it sound exciting to dig for lost civilizations. I was all about Egypt in those days. When I was around 8. Then it shifted to paleontology due to a brief obsession with dinosaurs. Maybe it was simply that I wanted to dig.

The next year for Christmas I got a guitar. I toyed with being a musician for a minute, but I wasn’t disciplined enough to play well. I was sloppy & didn’t care if it sounded a bit off. There was the pesky performance thing again, so scratch the music career. A year later Dr. Seuss published The Lorax, & I wanted to ‘speak for the trees.’ I didn’t really know how to make a career out of chaining myself to logging equipment (how does one pay for necessities that way?). My budding eco-terrorist plans stalled out.

All through these years I was writing & drawing, things I enjoyed immensely but kept hearing from various sources that these weren’t reliable sources of income. “You will have to have a day job,” my school counselor said. “You should go into advertising. Your talents could easily be put to use for graphic design & ad copy.” Gee, thanks. She didn’t realize she was talking to a Socialist-leaning teen; advertising fuels the Capitalist consumer culture. I would rather chew broken glass.

My parents were encouraging, but not terribly realistic. My mother did say a few times she thought I’d make an excellent teacher. I wondered where she got that notion, so I finally asked. “You’re good with children,” she said. She received my blank stare, which I followed up with “But I don’t like children.” “Your nieces & nephews love you!” she countered. “Sure, I like my nieces & nephews. But they’re not real children– they’re family” Somehow this distinction escaped her.  “A lot of writers teach as well,” my mother added. On second thought, maybe I didn’t want to be a writer. If having to stand in front of a group of people is a requirement for being a published author, it isn’t for me.

My day jobs made plain I preferred working solo (like all writers & artists…duh). That accounts for so many janitorial positions. I can work with others (pet sitting was enjoyable), but humans are so exhausting. Having a boss breathing down my neck raises my hackles. I’d think ‘I’m already doing your bidding; my attitude is my own to have.’ For obvious reasons retail & I did not mix. Nor waiting tables. I surmise the public are not to be met. They’re to be ignored until they go away.

For a spell in college I bounced around the idea of applying to film school. The cinephile in me said ‘You don’t have to act. You could write. Or direct. Or do the filming.’ That last was out there. I’m lousy with a camera. I can compose a shot, but the right film, shutter speed, f-stop (whatever that is), focus, & proper lighting were beyond me. Digital cameras were many years away. These days some film movies on their phones. Sigh. Then there’s the crew. I’d have to work with other people. A lot of other people. I was beginning to admit that I was the creepy loner others are told to look out for. Better get started on that manifesto. I’ve been shirking.

I enjoyed art history & physics classes, but I couldn’t see those leading to a career for me. Attracted to the theoretical side of physics, but my math background didn’t add up. I could squeak by plugging numbers into formulae, but barely. Some things you can do with an art history degree, since teaching is off the table, is appraiser, curator, or art critique (yeesh!). There is restoration. A friend of mine went to Italy to train in that. Then he came back to the States & started a graphic art business. I guess art restoration wasn’t as fulfilling as he’d hoped it would be. Art forgery had a kind of appeal, yet was regrettably criminal.

At present we’re in the Contemporary or Postmodern Art era. & of course there’s AI-generated art. Even if I wanted to teach, I could not in good conscience lecture on some of what I’ve seen pass for art recently. The high arty folk of today would find my views ‘simple’ or ‘provincial.’ Whatever. They can keep their bananas duct-taped to walls. I’d rather eat the fruit & use the duct tape to gag the nearest dull person droning on about art. Way to prove Oscar Wilde right: “All art is quite useless.”

Careers are often chosen not just out of passion; some for prestige. A vast many for the income they can earn. Scripturally (& here I agree) “The love of money is the root of all evil.” If I could find the bare minimum hours of day job that would allow me the time & energy to devote to my actually fulfilling work & still survive, that would be optimal. To have Work-Life Balance is another way of saying success. So I came up with my own formula for success:

Where t [time] plus e [energy] get divided by (this site won’t allow mathematical symbols, so just imagine:) [the square root of]$ (avarice, the ‘square’ root of all evil) < (is less than) Pi (symbol for ‘the whole pie,’ i.e., a full & satisfying life– because pie is yummy, be it sweet or savory). Quod erat demonstrandum. I can do that math.