Monday, October 31, 2011

$8/hr, Splitting Headaches & Possessions

I just can't get into the swing of things lately. I've had so many ideas for Sane & Satisfied and for my other ventures but my body can't keep up.

Ain't that how life goes, though? You don't regret the things you did, you regret the things you didn't do. Well, I reckon I'll be regretting a lot of things. And here I go getting morbid and mushy.


I've been asking myself a lot lately if I do things for me or for other people. Or if I do things because of my feelings about them or because of other people's feelings about them. And I haven't really come to an answer yet. But I've had two situations that tested this question just in the last week.

One was that this guy offered me a position to run his new screen printing business here in town. I would be responsible for setting up his showroom, advertising, and designing shirts to sell in the showroom. The catch was that he would only pay me $8/hr. He said that I would be able to raise my pay myself if I brought in enough business.

I was "this close" to saying yes. But then I forced myself to be quiet and think about all the things I'm already working on. I realized that I would be doing all of the things for him that I should be doing for my own business. Not only that, but if I accepted his offer I would be going in yet one more direction that really isn't the direction I want to go in. I want to be in the mountains someday not tethered to a brick store.

I knew it was one of those weeks last week when I conked out at 9:00pm right after dinner, in the middle of watching The Office and woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. It always happens that way. I keep my stress and worry bottled up inside until it can't help but force it's way out in the form of droopy eyes, irritability and pain.

If I've learned anything last week it was because I was able to at least keep my head above water long enough to see what the lesson is: That high above our worldly possessions, towering over our computers, Twitter accounts and designer clothes we have possession of ourselves...if we can keep it.

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