My Life in Day Job Hell

Part One: Into the abyss

Recently, I've been thinking about day jobs. You know, those boring life-sucking gigs we as artists have to endure while we pursue our dreams. Of course, this got me thinking about my own experiences in day job hell over the years and, unfortunately, how I've yet to escape. Now I have to say, going back through the mists of time trying to recall all of these jobs has been no easy task(I've had a lot of them, as you'll soon read), but that really wasn't the hardest part. One of the most difficult parts of this exercise was accepting that I've done all of these things, but have nothing tangible to show for it. No real estate or investments or cool cars, absolutely nothing of monetary value for all my toil and trouble. All I have are memories and lots and lots of real life experience in the trenches(literally). But even this wasn't as painful as coming to the realization that these gigs have somehow defined my life despite my best attempts to think otherwise. See, I've always had this silly perception of being more, or better, than what I've come from or done and, therefore, not defined by my own experiences. I was a so-called "artiste" in denial. Well, the illusion I've created for myself has vanished into oblivion. I feel like a fucking alcoholic who's suddenly had a moment of clarity. How cliche, but there it is. And I must say, clarity sucks.

Yes, I've come to the painful realization that I am exactly what I've come from and experienced. My art, my craft, and my life in day job hell are inextricably linked. Bound together in ways I never contemplated before until just now. I think this is what they call in psychology, "growth". I call it, "being scared shitless with the terrifying reality of reality". Whatever it is, I now know that I cannot separate my real self from my perceived self. This may seem obvious to some, but to an artist it's not. At least not to me. The illusion and denial kept me going during the toughest times in day job hell and, without it, I wouldn't have survived. Now I'm staring into the abyss of my own hell, trying to find a catharsis in the midst of this horrifying revelation. Care to step off with me?

To be continued...

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