It is amazing how life cycles through mini-phases. For months, I was consumed – no, tortured – by my job and the future of my career. I fretted about what to do, I talked about going back for a Masters and I now owe the Brooklyn Public Library about $52 in fines for overdue books like “The Anti-9 to 5 Guide” and “Do What You Are.” I have not mentioned this to my husband. The books were helpful, but only in confirming that I do not know what I want to do.
At the same time, I threw my energy into making things. I went supply shopping, designed some pouches, sewed the nights away, took product photos, filled my etsy.com shop, sat back, and waited. I thought about entering the Renegade Craft Fair, The Brooklyn Flea, and then even the Bust one-off Craftacular looked like a good first timer’s fair. But then nothing happened. I baked in the interim. This resulted in my consuming far too many cookies. I became depressed. The weather was bad, I got no exercise; it was a bad scene.
After a particularly rough beginning of February, I stopped worrying so much about everything and started doing other things, things that I could do while I waited for inspiration to strike, people to buy, and things to happen.
Part of this, I realize, is my easily being discouraged. I drop that and pick up something new. I know that’s probably not the best habit, but I usually return to the things I left at some point. I am complex like my father – most people would peg me as laid back, sweet (!), funny, east going. And I am. But on the inside I am a worrier and my tendency for fretting can manifest itself in bad ways. My dad’s comes out in rages, mine are more pitiful, like watching a newborn kitten try to pull itself up. My poor husband knows what I put myself through.
So, I started picking up freelance work for my old newspaper, doing the stories I always wanted to. I went out with friends. I put out another issue of my work paper, which I had as much fun with as I could at work. I started bitching about my increasingly irritating coworker to other coworkers. And I feel a little bit better! I have entered that phase of being here a year and not caring as much. Of course, this means I get overlooked and, in some cases, shafted, but this company isn’t my life – and isn’t looking after my life - and I remember that every day. This is a “job if there ever was one.
I don’t know when I will return to crafting and making things. I spent a load on ink and supplies for my Gocco, and they are still in boxes until I can come up with a design I can commit to. Deadlines for the spring and summer fairs have come and gone. I will probably start up again when I know I can do it well, or when I have a good idea. I am also incredibly impatient, which is not a good combination for the easily discouraged. The plan for the coming month (April is always long and never quite nice enough, I find) is to try and keep calm and carry on.
