Your Two Things
As an adult, you get to be an expert at one thing. If you are lucky (or a workaholic), this is also your favorite thing to do. I got into computers because my choices of extracurricular activities in rural Utah were limited and skewed toward highly gendered team sports. My parents made me endure sessions of baseball and basketball before accepting that I was never going to be very athletic. I was more at home with the band kids; having a strong attraction to the piano. Probably in part because all of my older siblings could play, but mostly because the instrument is a fascinating, intricate, solo-act machine. I was so taken by it that I invented my own musical notation to remember the first song I learned. The cluster of squares and arrows I came up with doesn’t have any musical meaning to me today, but I loved that doodle so much that I later had it tattooed on myself.
You see, my enthusiasm for the piano waned shortly after I was put in lessons. I hated it because I was required to do it. The moment I was allowed to quit lessons, I did so with gusto.
I’ve since spent years trying to learn again as an adult. The tattoo is a reminder of the magic and wonder that music-making inspires in me. It’s a reminder to stick with it even when practicing feels like a futile slog.
I said before that as an adult, you get to be good at one thing, but what I meant to say is you have to be good at one thing. From there, it is easy to stumble into a lazy river of endless streaming entertainment, never doing much more with your life than fulfilling your role as a well-mannered consumer.
We give our most fruitful years and hours of the day to companies that pay us the least amount of money they can get away with and would drop us in favor of artificial intelligence the moment it becomes viable. We’re left too mentally and emotionally drained at the end of an 8-hour day to do much more than survive.
To add insult to injury, we get two measly days a week to recover and squeeze in all of the chores we were unable to do throughout the week. Somehow we are supposed to show up on Monday feeling refreshed and satisfied with our life’s trajectory.
How do we take our lives back? How are we to derive joy and meaning from this endless churn of work, consumption, and chores?
You are not your career
The first step is accepting that you are not your career. What you do for your 9 to 5 is the least interesting thing you will do all day. It doesn’t matter if you are really good at it (of course you are) or if it is really important (sure it is). Nobody actually wants to know about your job. Humans are just terrible at making small talk.
What gets you out of bed in the morning? What do you do when the exchange of money is not involved? These are the things you get to be okay at. When do you make time for them?
Realistically designate creative time
For me, it is unrealistic to expect myself to be sharp enough to practice the piano or draw after a day of work. So I’ve taken to waking up early enough to have a few hours of personal time before my workday starts.
If you work from home, it is crucial that you do not start work until your agreed-upon time, lest you fall into the trap of simply working more.
Luxuriate in your down time
I used to beat myself up about feeling lethargic in the evenings, but this shift toward using my most productive morning hours for myself has changed everything. It’s okay to be exhausted after work. It’s okay to want nothing more than to make dinner and play video games until bedtime. What matters is that you make time for developing those “other” skills. Those things nobody will pay you to do but are so essential for nourishing your soul.
You may be so creatively and intellectually starved that you don’t even know what those things are. Maybe you have some ideas but are riddled with anxiety about your ability to perform them. Take the time anyway. I won’t say that I’m happiest when I’m creating something, but I will say I am most unhappy when I am not. The creative process can feel bleak and harsh much of the time, but it allows us to find meaning in this beautiful mess we call consciousness. I’m never going to be a particularly amazing pianist, but I absolutely love sitting down to play a brilliantly complex piece from memory, drawing the music from some deep recess of my bones. For a moment I get to peer inside the mind of a great composer as I retell their musical story. Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll even leave behind my own stories.
Summary
- Find one to two “other” creative interests beyond your job.
- Make time for those interests in the morning when you are the most fresh.
- Be excellent at your job and work only the hours you get paid for.
- Feed yourself, but otherwise be self indulgent in the evenings.