I’ve decided today that I need to go to business school. I need to rack up a bunch of debt, become more poor than I already am, and insert myself into a place that seems unfamiliar. Numbers and deadlines, hosiery and telephones, oblong tables and elevators.
I don’t fancy myself a business type, but I do covet the fancy business skills that I lack. Perhaps, I just need some assistance digging the skills out and shining them. Business school would be an expensive shovel, but a costly twenty thousand dollar dig may motivate me to more assertively advance my creative endeavors. Is there perhaps some sort of business skills stapler out there with the capacity to attach the needed attributes for my toils? The endeavors crawl into me and creep out constantly, with no fruits to bear. I’ve got dreams to remember, but a reluctance to heels.
There is something that holds me back from producing my visions, my art. I stew my musings in private.
I am a musician. I am a songwriter. I have written 91 songs. I have recorded less than a quarter of those songs. Or, to be more clear, there are rough practice recordings, but in 10 years I have not released one damn full length record. I was 25 when my old band, Scarlet Harlot released some overly rushed to be produced album.
A year and a half ago my band released an EP, but even that is three years old. Yeah. It took a year and a half after the recording sessions to release the album as an EP. To be fair, my band was rolling and recording and ready, when I zapped into super secret hermit mode upon finding out I was toting a baby bomb. Stopped recording. Stopped practicing. Stopped everything. Unplanned pregnancy equals freak out time. I froaked. (yes.)
But, still, that is just an excuse. I’ve had hundred of them. Like: I don’t have any money to start this. Or: I’m really sad. And: It’s not perfect yet, it’s not ready. Also: I’m having a kid. Then: I’m having another kid. Yes: I smoked too many cigarettes, and my throat hurts. Excuses, excuses.
Would going to business school rid me of the procrastination? Is there some sort of insertable drive I might acquire where I stop the excuses and continue a vision through to a fully explored path?
There is some button that I just don’t have. I am a damn dreamer is my damn problem. And I’m okay with that, is my other one. Does business school provide one with some sort of hammer or rope with which to exact a swing of upward mobility? Is there some ladder I can scale to reach the next level of continuous motivation to achieve my dreams?
Perhaps I should just get a payday loan, risk the interest on that junkie, get a bunch of money and record a bunch of albums and publish my children’s book. Would the interest on a payday loan be of enough motivation to me to right my wrongs and ring my mid-life bell into productivity? 35 is mid-life, y’all. Should I go business school? Or get some seedy loan? Should I start a letter writing campaign? Start a youtube channel?
What the hell am I waiting on?
I have a job. I work for great people. It’s not a job that I will advance in; the advancing of position has never been of much importance to me. I’m not that type of personality where I need the best job with the best money. But realistically, I could use more money. Because. I don’t have health insurance. I can’t afford it. I want it. I need it. If something goes wrong with me, I’m gonna die.
I don’t feel like I’m poor, but I am. I have great talents that could make me less poor, if only they were asserted. I want better for my daughters. We are not at the bottom of the barrel, barely. We budget and make do. But, there needs to be a change!
When do I start? Who’s in charge of pressing the start button?
Me? Yes. Me. Why haven’t I hit it yet? Maybe I’m about to. Is there some strange moon tonight?
Ho-boy. I looked it up. Yes. Yes, it’s the stars. Always the stars!
The moon is in Aries.
I’m born on the last day of Pisces.You know what that means, right?
In astrological terms, if you’re born on the last day of a zodiac sign, you’re born on a cusp. Meaning, that you are strongly influenced by the next zodiac sign but you’re NOT the next zodiac sign. Pisces are dreamers, engulfed by emotion. Aries are do-ers, riddled with ambition. Technically, I’m supposed to have some Aries traits up in my mix, somewhere. They were prevalent in my younger life, but long since laid dormant. My Pisces particulars are evergreen.
Tonight, them traits are on alert. I am beaming. I am scratching at the bit.
I kid you not, my steady gears are turning, I feel a wriggling, I feel a jump coming. I mean, seriously? SERIOUSLY? Today I began to think about something that I HAVE NEVER EVER CONSIDERED. Business school!! Business school??? Cutthroats and stressors, brown noses and bitches.
I don’t need business school to do what I need to do. You don’t need business school training to just begin, do you? Follow through is an exertion that does not require a life ladening loan.
You just need the moon to come round right. Right?
Dear Moon, don’t you go. Glow, glow down here. Dear Moon, you got a hold on some soul up there. Dear Moon, could you phase me to the next stage of my life? Dear Moon, I got a ladder, gonna climb up to you. Dear Moon, I got a rope, gonna tie on to you . Dear Moon, would you swing me on into the light? I’m a shadow to shine over, I’m a shock of a shell. Dear Moon, you kept beaming, lives been through hell. Dear moon, if there’s a man in you, would you please be mine?