I start my new job tomorrow, a pitiful little stint in the Walmart bakery.
And I've been thinking about this for a while now and just sort of stewing in it because I don't quite know how to talk about it without sounding like a whiny bitch, so here it is:
I don't want to work.
I don't want to settle with some 8 hr job that pays minimum wage (or slightly above) for the rest of my life, dealing with people I don't like (and I hate most people...) and never having any free time or energy to enjoy myself.
I want to write. I want to wake up at any fucking hour I please, make a pot of coffee and sit in front on my Chromebook while clicking away at keys and adding pages upon pages to a new book or story. I don't want to talk to anyone, I don't want any interruptions, and I don't want to go outside. I literally want to hole up somewhere peaceful and do nothing by write.
Maybe when I get stuck, I'll venture out into the real world and observe people for a while. Get some fresh ideas for the book. Then go back to my little hermit world and dive back into writing.
Unfortunately, we live in a world where you have to sell your labor (for cheap!) to get by in life. You have to suck it up, being miserable for a majority of your day, then go home and interact with people when you just wanna be somewhere quiet and alone. Then you go to sleep and do it all over again the next day and for what?
For a paycheck? To buy a house or a car you can't even enjoy? To landscape the backyard you'll never really see or enjoy? To buy a cat or dog you don't have any time for? To pay off student loans for a degree being wasted?
It all feels so fucking pointless and that's putting aside my major anxiety/depression issues.
I wonder, if I checked myself into a mental institution and became a lifer...would they let me write?