Unsolicited Advise

Arriving at a place unknown we are force to ask others for directions, no?

Well, I found myself a little disoriented as regards just what is my titled role on this new entrepreneurial adventure.

We begin things we great bravado, never knowing that there are check points.

I knew I wanted to begin working for myself so I started an account on Thumbtack, a consumer service for finding and hiring local professionals.

All I had to do was to check which services I offered.

The only ones that interested me were interior design and landscape design. I, also, included home organizer.

Thus far, I have went to two homes and both home owners wanted me to help them organize their living space. Both had a common response in that they expressed feeling shame.

This concept shame is a familiar trope left over from my former profession as a substance abuse counselor. Here I was pursing a new path and discovering that things were very similar in that I was still ultimately concerned about people’s well being.

But in the present context, I was free of the corporate infrastructure of abuse. That is another topic, this idea of how corporations endorse a climate of abuse because of following an outdated business model. No, my business model would be of my own devise.

But staying with my original point, saying that you are an interior designer without credentials can land you in jail. In this day and age, if you go to someone’s house to hang a fan, you have to be an accredited electrician. If you do not have the proper papers to prove it, the authorities will hand cuff you and charge you three hundred dollars.

I have no desire to hang ceiling fans under the pretense of being an accredited electrician but I do have design aspirations.

Legally if I want to consult a prospective client about designing their interior, I have to call myself a home decorator. To be titled an interior designer, you have to be accredited.

Now to be a home organizer just need to roll up your sleeves and set your self the task of helping others de-clutter their home. But you can’t help others if your own home is cluttered and choked full of things. You have your own ambitions. Me, myself, I have spent most of my life informing my living space with just that: space.

Returning to my point, when we move from one profession to another we have to switch idioms. Every profession has its peculiar jargon. It’s not that doctors are so much more smarted than us, but they do possess a larger range of vocabulary particular to their chosen profession.

That’s where I am at this moment, at a place where I am coming up against systemic obstacles.

I want to be self-employed. But to be self-employed you have to be prepared to be financially challenged. There are all the hidden fees such as the cost of a business licenses, insurance, federal and state taxes.

To protect myself from legal infractions, I have limited my thumbtack activities to include only home organizer. I have removed the categories that would entail that I have credentials.

Though I feel in my hearts of hearts, that I can design an interior just as well as someone who went to school for ages to be granted an award that tells them they are an interior designer. Before you bring me to task, I know too well the shortcomings of being an artist: it’s partly delusional in that one has to believe in the reality of what one can imagine. Artists are people who have invested time in being imaginative.

Because someone can sketch your portrait does not make them an artist. That’s what my daughter told me, that was her insight but it corresponds with my ideas of where art is today.

With the advent of Marcel Duchamp, the old way of doing art was flushed down the urinal. Art has not recovered since.

And Duchamp was current with Nietzsche in that art was dead and like God had to be born again. Meaning that art and god were taken down from their pedestals and brought to a new place where we could decide what both meant to us.

We all want to be something so we give ourselves titles. In my youth, I was a stoner skateboarder. When I came of age via the written word, I discovered that I had aspirations towards art; that I wanted to be an artist though I had no real talent.

My former young impressionable mind had concluded that because I could not draw, I was not an artist. A passage read from a zen text changed my point of view; it said that one should pick one thing and learn it thereby granting one knowledge of 10,00 things.

I picked writing because I could carry it on my back. It is a portable art that require the least amount of investment. To be a writer one must only elect to write.

Over the years, I have learned that writing is not my talent though I can on a basic level express my ideas. It is not my art.

My art deals with space.

Working Class Hero

We want so bad not to be at the beginning of some great endeavor.

We would sale our souls- a life time of ups and downs- for a Warholian minute of fame.

Nobody likes feeling unsure though we pay a price by only endorsing feelings of certainty.

I am at the beginning of finally letting go of any pretense or ambition to work at a job that is structured to benefit people whom are corporate board members.

I know I can say that more nicely, or find expression that is closer to what I mean.

I am 53.

It’s like it all ends there, an avalanche of notions slamming me back to earth.

But just as well, there is a new understanding (an insight) that I am running out of time; that we are allotted only so much; that one either hangs onto a dream, an ambition or one lets slip away any thoughts that held you up, that smacked of an irrationality that most people seem to want to beat out of us.

I want to be creative 24/7.

That is a given.

Just as well, I want to feed and house my family.

I don’t have the option of not providing, it’s imperative but whose to say I have to make money by doing something that is not creative.

I can follow through on pursuing single mindedly a role I have defer.

I have set back and watched others choose to be openly artist. Coming out is hard no matter what you have closeted.

But once that door is open, the affect is liberating.