Friday, July 4, 2014

Dreams Don't Pay the Bills

Three day work week.

These words should be magical, although not as awesome as two day work week or even one day work week. One day work week. <Happy sigh> Work is a necessary evil. Gotta eat, gotta pay the bills. And dreams don't pay the bills. We had a stat holiday this week for Canada Day (Tuesday) and I decided to take Monday off as a vacation day.

Four day weekend. Even sweeter than three day work week. I bet you're wondering now if I don't like my job and if I don't like my job why am I working there? I believe I might have mentioned dreams don't pay the bills. I'm pretty attached to my house and I enjoy eating. So I go to work.

After my lovely four day weekend, I went to work on Wednesday not feeling well. It must be a cardinal rule or something, but you can't call in sick after you've had vacation. It just seems wrong. So I stuffed myself with painkillers and went to the office. The day was horrible. I had shooting, stabbing pain in my stomach off and on. I wanted to be anywhere other than work. I'm a trouper, I tried to keep myself busy and distracted, but it wasn't easy. A few times in the morning, I found myself daydreaming about starting a new career. How I would do it. How much each venture would cost - education, start up. How much I could make. And it all boiled down to one thing. Starting from scratch would mean a huge paycut and, in this economy, nothing was going to pay me what I make at my current job. How depressing. To have to work for money. But apparently, everything I love doing doesn't pay well (at least initially).

Writing is just a hobby. Someday I might make a full career out of it, but right now my day job is it. There are worse jobs out there. Believe me, I've had them. And I've them left behind in search of greener pastures. I've realized that the grass is only greener if you water it yourself. So, after my brief pipe dream plans to leave my job and start a new career, I got serious and went back to work.

Unlike some of my co-workers, work is not my life. I have my boys, husband and two little ones, to keep me busy at home. While at work, my little cubicle is covered in reminders of my children - artwork, pictures. I work for my family. Every bad day, every stressful moment, I look at those pictures and I remember the reason I am there. To give my children a better life. To take care of them, to have the ability to make their dreams come true. I am a dreamer. I dream big. I encourage my boys to dream big too. My dream come true is my family. The other dreams pale in comparison. My life fulfills me like I never thought it could. Sometimes dreams come true. Although dreams don't pay the bills, they do make life worth living.

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