I have a pretty sweet day job, but every Monday morning when I don’t want to get out of bed, I think about freelancing. I think about it a lot. I’m at that age where running away from home involves a colour coded spreadsheet and a five year plan. Adulthood is incredibly overrated, but here we are. I have my reasons for daydreaming of a different life.
Abstinence from real pants
Whenever I wear real pants, my shapely quads start singing that Aretha Franklin song “Rescue Me”. “I know, I know,” I whisper to them softly, “but if we are going to be taken seriously somewhere there’s an office-y dress code, we are going to have to suck it up!” My dispute with pants is longstanding. I bought some awesome Mayberry leggings this weekend and I never want to wear real pants again. They are so soft. I distinctly heard my calves go “ahhhhh”.
Creating Al Fresco
I have a hate/hate relationship with fluorescent lighting. It’s 1) unflattering 2) oppressive on the eyes 3) acoustically unpleasant. Open concept offices are an introvert nightmare. It’s so people-y and noisy. I experience laser focus with my MacBook on the Starbucks patio or on my apartment porch on a yoga mat. I breathe in fresh air, feel the breeze on my face and the only thing that’s recycled is whatever I’ve got playing on my iPod. I want to remove the pane of glass separating me from the great outdoors, because the outdoors is really great (do not ask me about this in December when it is snowy just to be a jerk.)
The extent to which I am not a morning person cannot be sufficiently underscored. I would like to be more selective about my participation in mornings. I would like to take my kid to school, go to the gym, then do scheduling/admin/research during the day. I would like to pick up my kid, do all that mommy stuff while saving money on daycare, dinner, bath, bed and make magic when he finally goes to sleep. I’m not talking bow-chick-a-wow-wow, people. I mean my creativity is super nocturnal. My day job is 9-5 (awesome for school drop off! Thank you so much love you my awesome boss!) but my creative brain turns on at 7 and doesn’t want to shut off until around 3 am. For me, it’s about honouring how my brain works.
I expect that I will continue to stare wistfully at my dream of full time writing for a while murmuring “how much is that doggy in the window?” I’m working on my colour coded spreadsheet, my five year plan and my Dear John letter to real pants. After thirteen years for staying together for the “kids” (rent, hydro, cell phone, groceries, insurance, cable internet), I at least owe them that much.