Creative Projects – Page 2 – Where Vivid Narratives Live

Wealth of Experience

As I type up slew of journals I’d written, starting around 1992 when I was a Peace Corps Volunteer and ending roughly around 2011 when I started blogging, I mark the growth that I’ve made as a person, regardless of my inherent flaws, but driven through my passions.

I knew when I was a teenager, that most guys I briefly dated, bored me. I wanted nothing more than to combine the attractiveness I found in a guy with the intellectual creativity that I also craved. After many decades, I’m not ready to conclude that such a guy doesn’t exist, but he’s a unicorn.

Another long-running theme: the utter lack of money no matter what job I have. I learned long ago that “residual income” was the way to go, but that seems as unattainable as world peace and the end of all violence. Speaking of violence, at least I no longer want to slap or cuss out people who dare say in my presence that “money can’t buy happiness.”

I still find that saying to be bullshit, given the fact that, with the correct set of priorities, money is a powerful happiness tool. Case in point: for the past 20 or so birthdays, I’ve either planned an itinerary of birthday events that I’ve invited friends to participate in or, more recently, made a list of things that I’d buy myself.

The COVID shutdown nearly ruined my milestone 50th birthday, except that my sister and I were determined to not let happen. As a matter of fact, by the time September rolled around, one of my nephews had turned 20 and Mom had turned 80. Yes, we’re all 30 years apart. We had a combined Zoom birthday party with mostly extended family and some friends.

For the following birthday, I made my first birthday gift list and bought myself several life-enriching things: a portable standing desk, a vibration plate and two TYR tankinis. (Note: I love that swimwear line because its name is my initials!)

In June of 2021, I’d landed my first bona fide desk job, where I was expected to sit for eight hours a day. That job inspired me to dream up of ways to make my work life far more liveable. Three years later, I STILL use the standing desk and vibration plate, but I’ve recently replaced those two tankinis with two more since I’d worn them out over time with active use.

Plus, I’ve continued to make a combination itinerary/gift list for myself for every subsequent birthday. The thoughtfulness behind my list reflect solutions to challenges to enhance my life.

Another running theme is my creative project juggle. Never have I ever had enough time nor money to fund these projects to the extent I would have love to, but I’ve always done the most with what I have.

I’ve written novels and poetry; produced a long-running monthly theme-inspired spoken word and storytelling show; produced two podcasts; produced/directed/edited short films; edited different written works for hire; painted; illustrated.

The completion of projects are my wealth.

Problem with Old White Men as POTUS?

As usual, I get exhausted by all the political back and forth months prior to an actual presidential election. Not enough to skip voting, mind you.

But one political argument this Leap Year election cycle motivated me to take a deep dive. Namely, is Biden too old to be president?

My gut instinct told me “no.” Since the start of the United States of America on July 4th, 1776, my country has NEVER had any problems with older white men leading the country. Especially given the fact that only one POTUS hasn’t been white and none have ever identified as female. The rest of the answer lie in comparing how old each POTUS was at the start of his presidency and the average life expectancy at the time.

Granted, statistics isn’t my favorite mathematical branch, I’d hoped that someone else had crunched the numbers. There was one article that compared the president’s age to former presidents and their contemporaries, but I wanted to see the numbers for myself.

I had no idea the challenge I’d set up for myself. Listing all the presidents in chronological order, along with how old they were when they started their presidency were the easy parts. Finding consistent data about the average life expectancy during the start year of each presidency was far more work, considering that I limited my search to internet sites.

After all, I wouldn’t invest too much time in research, which, in the end, left my data table with 17 gaps under the “Average Life Expectancy” column. Even the numbers that appear under that column weren’t the ideal “apples to apples” comparison, but strongly reflected the historical bias of the United States.

For example, prior to Emancipation, enslaved people were only considered three-fifths of a person and they certainly weren’t counted in the average life expectancy data that I saw, given how vastly different the average enslaved person lived compared to the average white person.

Nonetheless there were differences within the data for whites. Some data only showed white men. Others brokedown data among white men and women at various ages during that year. Other data showed the average life expectancy averaged among a number of years.

Even with the gaps and variety of methods to calculate the average, clear patterns emerged. First of all, people are living longer for a variety of reasons: advances in modern medicine, better personal hygiene, clean drinking water. Ironically, one of the medical innovations was the discovery and use of vaccines. Given the current anti-vaccine movement, which may have contributed to life expectancy lowering during the COVID pandemic, vaccines helped increase life expectancy over the last few centuries.

When George Washington became the first POTUS, he may have seemed quite old at the time since he was 57 and the estimated average life expectancy was 34.5 years. In 2021, when Biden became the 46th POTUS at age 78, he was only a few years older than estimated average of 76.1 years.

Looking at the table at the end of this blog post, one can see that 17 presidents in a row, from Harding to Trump, were actually younger than the average life expectancy. Then, a global pandemic hit and the average life expectancy in the US actually declined, so when Biden became the oldest president (a designation that Trump once held when he was elected), he did so with a lower average life expectancy than his predecessor.

One of the Republican election talking points that was driven home by Nikki Haley (besides “keep my daughter’s name out of your voice”) was that the United States needed a younger generation of leaders. I thought this was a brilliant because, on the surface, she was criticizing Biden, but she was also taking a jab at Trump who was only a few years younger, but still the same generation as Biden. Haley even turned up the “generational change” rhetoric once she was the sole Republican challenger.

That was about the time when I’d had enough. Would I like to see a younger generation of politicians in office? Yes. Does the United States have a problem voting for old white men?ABSOLUTELY NOT. And it never has. See for yourself in the table below.

You’re invited to do whatever deep-dive research until your heart’s content or until November 2024, whichever comes first.

PRESIDENT NAME & PRESIDENCY START YEAR	AVE LIFE EXPECTANCY	AGE	SOURCE
George Washington 1789	34.5	57	1
John Adams 1797		61
Thomas Jefferson 1801		57
James Madison 1809		57
James Monroe 1817		58
John Quincy Adams 1825		57
Andrew Jackson 1829		61
Martin Van Buren 1837		54
William Henry Harrison 1841		68
John Tyler 1841		51
James K. Polk 1845		49
Zachary Taylor 1849		64
Millard Fillmore 1850	38.3	50	1
Franklin Pierce 1853		48
James Buchanan 1857		65
Abraham Lincoln 1861		52
Andrew Johnson 1865	35.1	56	2
Ulysses S. Grant 1869		46
Rutherford B. Hayes 1877		54
James A. Garfield 1881	41.74	49	1
Chester A. Arthur 1881	41.74	51	1
Grover Cleveland 1885	41.15	47	2
Benjamin Harrison 1889		55
Grover Cleveland 1893	44.09	55	1
William McKinley 1897	44.09	54	1
Theodore Roosevelt 1901	48.23	42	1
William Howard Taft 1909	50.23	55	1
Woodrow Wilson 1913	50.3	56	3
Warren G. Harding 1921	56.85	55	1
Calvin Coolidge 1923	57.85	51	1
Herbert Hoover 1929	59.12	54	1
Franklin D. Roosevelt 1933	60.6	51	1
Harry S. Truman 1945	64.4	60	1
Dwight D. Eisenhower 1953	66	62	4
John F. Kennedy 1961	67.1	43	4
Lyndon B. Johnson 1963	66.6	55	4
Richard Nixon 1969	66.9	56	4
Gerald Ford 1974	68.3	61	4
Jimmy Carter 1977	69.4	52	4
Ronald Reagan 1981	70.4	69	4
George H. W. Bush 1989	71.5	64	4
Bill Clinton 1993	72	46	4
George W. Bush 2001	73.8	54	4
Barack Obama 2009	78.5	47	5
Donald Trump 2017	78.6	70	6
Joe Biden 2021	76.1	78	7

US Presidents Age at Inauguration vs. Average Life Expectancy in US

#1: https://www2.census.gov/library/publications/1949/compendia/hist_stats_1789-1945/hist_stats_1789-1945-chC.pdf
#2: https://www.statista.com/statistics/1040079/life-expectancy-united-states-all-time/
#3: https://u.demog.berkeley.edu/~andrew/1918/figure2.html
#4: https://www.ssa.gov/OACT/TR/TR02/lr5A3-h.html
#5: https://www.cdc.gov/nchs/data/nvsr/nvsr62/nvsr62_07.pdf
#6: https://www.cdc.gov/nchs/data/nvsr/nvsr68/nvsr68_07-508.pdf
#7: https://www.cdc.gov/nchs/pressroom/nchs_press_releases/2022/20220831.htm

A Better Bull’s Eye

Hard to believe that I’ve been working on my World’s Sexiest Dictionary for several years now. So long in fact, that a pandemic has come and gone and yet, I’m still working on this project, which was a radical idea at the time and even now, still motivates me to pour energy into on a daily basis.

Computer Paper & Watercolor Crayons

My humble beginnings started off with regular computer paper and watercolor crayons. My logic was since the crayons was a new medium, I’d start practicing with the cheapest paper possible. If I could make that look decent, then I’d spend money on the better materials.

When I was at a social event, I told an art teacher about the illustration project I was working on. Without knowing what assbackwards method I had been using, she asked if I using a digital illustration app. Of course not, but I took her advice.

Rough Draft Digital

A month before the 2020 COVID pandemic shutdown, I bought a tablet and the digital app and started my journey to learn another new medium. Not only was it an easier process, but it was portable and involved no clean up.

One of the many lessons that I learned in having to complete 156 illustrations was that my inner critic had to be OK with leaving an illustration looking “good enough,” whatever that meant at the time. I had faith that my technique would improve over time. All I had to do was keep moving forward.

Final Draft Digital

I’ve called this third rendition of the 156 illustrations the “FINAL” set. I’m not going to stop digital illustrating, but I’ve finally hit a level with this project where I could complete them, publish them, and then move on.

Time will tell how many more years that’ll take.

Shots Fired

After reading the PDF manual for my new (outdated) digital camera over the course of a few weeks, taking all the accessories out of the box, and charging the battery on Saturday morning, I shot a 2.5 minute clip, starring Dad, on Sunday morning. Despite him being lethargic, I was very excited to take that baby step, which was psychologically a very huge step. After all, I’d done just about everything else under the guise of preparing myself to practice shooting video.

The last thing I wanted to do was wait until the day of the event and use the equipment for the first time. So, I’ve avoided that much. Now the next step was to figure out postproduction.

I didn’t buy the latest version of this camera, which would have cost far more and not come with any accessories. Besides, since I’m an emerging filmmaker with a very modest budget, I stayed in my financial lane.

One thing that I overlooked was that the manual was written at the time that this particular camera was top of the line, rather than antiquated. Once I got toward the end of the manual, I saw that I could connect the camera to the laptop with a cable, use a card reader with the SD card, or import the images/videos via Wi-Fi.

I suspected that I already had a cable to connect the camera to the computer attachment (since newer laptops no longer have all the fancy ports like the ol’ school laptops used to have!) somewhere in the bowels of my large bag full of such cables. I was in no mood to detangle all those cables. After I finally sorted and filed all the loose important papers over the Thanksgiving long weekend, organizing the electronic cable bag became my new thing to cringe over. And put off organizing until Christmas break.

Corner of Tangled Cables

So, yes, I ended up buying a cable only to discover the very next day when I braved the cable bag for something else, that I DID already have that damn cable because it was old tech. I comforted myself thinking that it only costed $10 with tax, so lesson learned!

Now that I had twice as many cables needed to connect my laptop to the camera, I then had to download the appropriate version of the software. Here’s how I knew I was in trouble: none of the versions were as current as my brand-new laptop. I tried anyway. Of course it didn’t work. Whatever I installed, never acknowledged that my camera was connected to the laptop even after disabling the Wi-Fi on the camera, which was apparently a step I had to take.

I just took a deep breath, disconnected everything and researched the other two ways.

The next thing I tried was to connect the camera to Wi-Fi. At least I didn’t have to buy anything. I enabled the Wi-Fi, selected the correct Wi-Fi name, but instead of asking for the password, it asked for some other computer geek thing that I didn’t know how to answer and never got passed that step.

Finally, I tried using the SD card. I’d resisted using this method because I was determined not to buy anything else if I could help it. Turned out, the multiple port attachment I’d bought since my new laptop had only two USB-C ports, had both an SD and an SD card adapter ports. I popped the SD card adapter out of the camera and slid it into the port, where it appeared in Finder.

Just to recap: not only did I NOT need any cable, but I didn’t need the new cable that I’d bought, which was redundant in the first place! In time, I won’t dwell on it.

After moving the MOV folder, which contained two MOV clips, to the “Movie” category in Finder, I then labelled both the folders and the clips. May have seemed a little bit overkill, but I wanted to start off as organized as possible, especially since one day, that humble beginnings folder will be the first of many.

This IS my film school.

Sister Production

Once again, one of my sisters piggybacked off my idea to gift a family experience for Christmas. Last year, we gifted the family indoor skydiving, which went swimmingly well. This year, the sister collaboration involves an actual production of our very own Christmas show.

Producing a live show is in my wheel house since I produced a theme-inspired spoken word and storytelling show for eight years in Austin, The Austin Writers Roulette. One of the many lessons I learned from that creative experience is that as much as I love to organize, building in simplicity is key. What’s the least that needs to be done to execute the event?

Since my sister is an art teacher, she’s responsible for more than paying half this time around. Granted, one of the main jobs of a producer is to secure funding, but I’ve tasked her with gathering props for the show as well. She has a wealth of material at her house. After seeing what usable things we already have, we’ll buy the rest.

Even with a prop list, I’m mindful of using the fewest props and least costuming accessories to accentuate each of the five songs that I’ve selected. The introductions to each songs have been edited for the fewest words with the largest impact. Actually, that’s how I usually write, but for a live production where I have a set amount of time, I plan less to allow for fewer things to go off the rails.

In the meantime, I’m doing a little at a time, including reading up on the digital camera that I’m going to use to record the experience. All along, I trust that the production will come together.

One Step Closer to Filmmaking

Starting last year, I declared that I was no longer buying materialistic Christmas presents. All my gifts seemed like sacrifices to all the other junk that my family already had. Even the handmade things weren’t appreciated for the effort that I put in and STILL added to the cathedral of junk.

I brainstormed affordable family activity experiences. Part of the challenge was a 62-year age range. I hit the nail on the head last year with indoor skydiving. The octogenarians, my parents, didn’t fly, but they still enjoyed watching us and other participants fly.

The difference a year makes: dad has more mobility issues. So on top of everything else, I had the added challenge of finding an interesting family experience at an accessible venue, which in this day and age, is still a formidable challenge that requires much planning ahead.

After surveying family members about group activities, I concluded that I’d have to make the Christmas magic. I plan to produce a live Christmas show for my family at the dance studio where I take classes. In order to capture the memory, I will record the event.

Although I don’t have big ideas about what the recording will look like, especially since I’m responsible for the post production. I’ve been writing the Christmas show, including my introductions for each song.

My instructors will be the performers. Not only are they the most professional that I can afford, but I know they can make up a routine on the fly. At least I’m hoping that’s the case because I’m not too sure about whether we will have rehearsals or even a run through. I’m also hoping that since they know me that at least three instructors will want to participate in such a production on the eve of Christmas Eve.

A handful of instructors, including the studio owner, have heard me mention several times that I’m an emerging filmmaker. I want to make a short film about pole dancing. Who knew that the first one, outside of a handful of chair dancing videos, would be a Christmas show?

Since this will be a gift for my family, I thought of some “candy cane” awards that I can present to each family member. The awards will reflect some sentimental or funny moment(s) that occurred around Christmas time. After announcing the winner of the award, I have chosen a song that matches.

Choosing songs was less challenging than the candy cane awards themselves, thanks to the overabundance and commercialization of Christmas songs. All the songs are non-religious and most reference Santa.

Since I have the award verbiage written and songs chosen, I now have to secure props that instructor dancers may not have. Since this is my production, I don’t expect them to buy anything that they don’t already have. At the same time, since this is a Christmas-themed production, the chances are good that they already own props, especially attire.

I’ve already texted the song list to the instructor who, for all intents and purposes, acts like a manager and the owner. Those are the two who I’m expecting to perform, but I’d love for at least two more.

In the meantime, I’ve received the two boxes of equipment that I will use for the event. Not a moment too soon. Unfortunately, package piracy is on the rise, given inflation and the upcoming holiday season. Too bad more people aren’t embracing non-materialistic gifts although that wouldn’t allay all stealing. Just the Christmas-motivated theft.

Art Garden Paper-Making

Always a pleasure to spend creative time in fresh air. This invitation came via one of the board members from the film festival. Since my sister is my all-around partner in crime, of course, she came with me.

The Creative Invitation

Although the weather wasn’t cold, I knew that my hands wouldn’t be submerged in water. My sister, however, squealed like a little kid at the opportunity to make her own organic paper that would eventually sprout flowers. At one point, I asked her to calm down because she was acting like someone who didn’t get out of the house much.

Paper Pulp

The organizer showed us the pulp, which I can only remember contained leaves, water, and other organic “stuff.”

Artist Organizer and My Sister

I’d seen recycled paper fodder before, but this was the first time I’d seen recycled paper made into a vehicle for a seed delivery system.

Artist Power Tools

Although my sister was the only paper-making participant during that time slot, she got the full explanation of the process due to her sheer enthusiasm and the fact that she was an art teacher. Like any good teacher, my sister’s mind went into overdrive, already seeing how she could use the experience in her classroom.

Okra Slime

One step, pouring okra slime into the mix, provided me with the only good use for that substance. Unlike the other ingredients, which were added together in the bucket and emulsified with a power tool. Instead, that slime was poured directly into the bin.

Traditional Artist Tools

My sister immersed her hands into that mixture to combine all the ingredients thoroughly, working out all the lumps.

Massaging Paper Pulp

Then, she used a screen to capture a sample of the mixture.

Introducing the Screen

Once she coated the screen with an even layer, she removed it from the water and set it on top of the bin.

Draining Excess Water

Raising the screen frame, she examined the wet paper mixture to make sure that it was all together in one piece.

Preparing Extraction

Gently, she placed the wet paper onto the muslin cloth.

Pressing into Cloth

After pressing the back of the screen to the fabric, she transferred the wet paper to the cloth.

Smoothing It Out

At that point, the wet paper transformed into portable composting soil.

Adding Seeds

Next, she spread seeds around.

Pressing into Place

With the seeds pressed into the paper soil, the product needed to dry .

Preparing to Hang

She gently peeled the muslin off the table to hang the cloth up to dry.

Hanging out to Dry

She chose one of the sunniest spots to hang the seeded soil.

Soaking up Sun

Although the drying process takes several days, the paper soil dried enough in a few hours to be peeled away from the cloth.

Resting on the Floor

The organizer showed us what my sister’s soil paper would eventually turn into:

Finished Products

Museum Visit: Percy Martin

Proving both sayings that “the best-laid plans go awry” and “when life give you lemons, make lemonade,” my family and I went to a museum in Maryland on a Sunday to see our cousin Percy Martin’s exhibit only to discover that the building was closed. One of my sisters persuaded a maintenance man to unlock the art building’s side door, yet the gallery itself was also closed. Prominently displayed on the gallery window were the hours: Mon-Fri from 11 AM-4PM.

Unexpected Historical Facet

We saw other paintings and a set of cardboard pieces arranged in 3D shapes, which were obviously class projects. The exhibit that resonated with me was the brief history lesson about systemic racism in the surrounding area. After seeing on the news how Floridian institutions have been under attack for such content, it was refreshing to witness.

A Deeper Dive

We couldn’t find anyone else in the building to open the gallery. One of my sisters questioned two different people in the parking lot as we were about to leave. Both said they couldn’t open the gallery, so she texted Percy’s daughter to see if we could visit the artist himself. In the meantime, she called another cousin who had attended the artist talk the month before.

Lunch Break

While sitting in the car, talking to our cousin in attempt to come up with Plan B, my sister spotted a third person in the parking lot. She handed off her phone to our sister to approach that person. Next thing we knew, they started walking out of the parking lot in the opposite direction of the museum. By the time I realized that none of us had any means to communicate with her, she and the dude she’d approached were out of sight. All I could think of was, “What a perfect ‘Taken’ situation and none of us have a special set of skills.” I just prayed that that unsuspecting dude was a nice guy with no general woman-abduction scenarios in his back pocket.

Before We Go

After an uncomfortable amount of time, she returned, telling us that the guy had escorted her to the student union in hopes that someone there would have keys to the museum or the student union gallery. They’d struck out on both pursuits. I told her next time to use someone else’s phone to call her phone and check in with us. She hadn’t thought of that, but at least she was fine.

Humble Beginnings of an Artist

Our Plan B: go over to another cousin’s house who lived near Percy. We’d finally heard back from Percy’s daughter who invited us to come over for a visit after two. That was a few hours away, so we had an enjoyable time at our cousin’s house, including eating pizza since we were out later than anticipated. Originally, we wanted to hit the road back to NC by then, but we figured talking to the artist himself would make the whole trip worth while.

Prolific Artist

We truly got more than we bargained for. My cousin and her husband drove separately to Percy’s house since they showed us how to get there and would drive back home. Instead they stayed the entire time, which turned out to be over an hour, thanks to me.

Passing on the Knowlege

As soon as we arrived at Percy’s house, I introduced myself to him and asked if I could interview him for my podcast. He was ready to go. As a matter of fact, he invited me into his studio where we had a quieter environment to conduct the recording. He started, unprompted, telling me his story.

Here was an artist who had been interviewed so many times, he already knew several places to begin, leaving me to catch up. When he took a breath, I informed him that I was recording, which I don’t know if he cared or not, but it still seemed like the ethical thing to do.

From there, I was amazed at the life he led during his childhood when he discovered at age 8 that he wanted to be an artist and the famous people who he crossed paths with by virtue of living in D.C. As enthralled as I was by his back to back stories that flowed from one to the next, I was mindful of the time.

My original plan was to keep the interview at a tight 30 minutes, but he was still going strong with his storytelling. Once we blew through the 30-minute mark, I watched him to see if I detected a look of fatigue cross his face as did when I’d interviewed one of my uncles who was in his 90s. No such look appeared since I believe he’d had a nap prior to our visit. Not only that, but he admitted once the interview concluded that no one had been by to see him in a while. Such a heartbreaking admission to hear from a vibrant storyteller.

Another cousin, who had attended his artist talk a month earlier, shared her photographic documentation of the event:

Shedding the Old Skin

Some view decluttering as embarrassing proof that your home, car, garage, or whatever space where you regularly dwell within is “junky.” I view it as an opportunity to transform the space into something more in alignment with how the space is used.

The latest work-in-progress is the den. Although everyone loves propping their feet up, there is only one reclining piece of furniture in the den. Some of the furniture is older than me (52.5) and needs to be put to pasture.

To get the ball rolling for reimagining the space, I researched reclining sectionals. Once I showed Mom the results during the week, she impressed me by going to a furniture place after Sunday dinner. By the time we left the furniture store, Mom had bought two reclining pieces, thanks in a large part to me handling her objections.

I told the salesperson that I deserved part of his commission because I was the one who’d closed the sale. He agreed, but apologized that he couldn’t pay me a commission. Sure, we’ll go with that story. I’m just happy that the new furniture will be delivered in a few weeks.

The following day after dance class, I bought a TV stand that was both decorative and had storage space. I knew that Mom preferred dark wood and that my sister was going through both the end table, which Mom wants to get rid of for some inexplicable reason, and the defunct “computer desk.” There’s no computer on the desk. Just two printers, only one of which is used and a lot of other things that can either find a new home, be thrown away or recycled. The main objective is to donate the desk and make space for the reclining sofa.

I underestimated how involved assembling that TV stand would be. Right out of the gates, I switched from following the printed instructions to the 3D instructions on the manufacturer’s app, which I downloaded on my phone. I enlarged the image and rotated it to see how the pieces fit together. I hit replay on a particular step as many times as I needed to before completing that task and advancing to the next.

By midnight, We were more than halfway through, which was good, considering we’d begun after 9:30 PM. Hey, I had to shower and eat a snack after my dance class. I certainly didn’t want to preempt my regularly scheduled activity to assemble furniture.

As much as I love building things, I’ve learned my lesson with that TV stand. First of all, I’m not going to assembly anything that’s in a box that I cannot lift/drag by myself. Secondly, if I ignore rule number one, once I see that the needed tools aren’t included in the box, I’m going to hire a Mr. /Ms. FixIt to put that shit together. I wouldn’t mind being their assistant, but I’m not running point on such an endeavor again.

After a third night of working on the TV stand, my sister finally said that I should have bought a stand at a furniture store, already assembled, and delivered. I agreed. I wasn’t about to argue that I’d saved money.

I’m creeping up on being “too old for this shit,” and thanked her for sharing in my latest life lesson. The following morning, she texted that she had borrowed a hand drill from a friend so we can finally secure the shelves.

POWER TOOLS…can I get an “amen”?

From here on out, no assembly job will be attempted with manual screwdrivers. At least in the past, my own set of tools had magnetized screwed drivers. In my haste to just “get her done,” I’d not given proper consideration to the tools being used.

Once my sister opened the hand drill case, I asked her if she knew how to use it. She demonstrated by unscrewing four of the door screws that I had painstakingly screwed in manually the night before. She straightened them out, correcting how the door swung open.

That was all I needed to see. I relieved her of the power tool and went about screwing in all the shelves and the backing in record time.

In less than a fortnight, the rest of the den transformation will be complete. I’ve arranged for the old furniture to be removed the day before the new furniture arrives. Not only will there be more space, but the space will be conducive to how we want to use it.

The Finished Product

New Year’s Resolution Starting in November

Months ago, I had an epiphany: I didn’t need to “good job” my way out of Texas. I stopped putting undue stress on myself with the weekly job hunt rat race. My current job was portable. All I had to do was make a plan to leave.

Once I returned home, I resisted most attempts by other people to pull me into extracurricular activities since I didn’t have the mental bandwidth for much. I’d packed up and relocated 14 years of my life and unloaded all of it in one bedroom in my parents’ house. That in and of itself was a great source of stress, time and expense.

Being back home was the financial restart that I needed. Plus, I, along with my sister and her son, were able to do the literal heavy lifting my parents needed to organize their things through storage, recycling or throwing it away.

A new financial picture started to form after a few weeks. Although I had the thin illusion of disposable income, I was highly aware that my life was subsidized by my parents for the first time in over 30 years. On the one hand, I was fortunate to still have this option. On the other hand, I needed a new mojo.

I’d joined a CBD company as an ambassador about 9 months prior to the pandemic. My heart had never really been into recruiting others nor selling although I loved the products. I’d dedicated my efforts on the other things I was juggling. Few of them were money-making ventures.

As a matter of fact, my attitude toward making money had ranged between, “if I do good work, the money will come,” and “if I’m organized enough, the money will come.” At this point, I know better. The facile belief that the quality of my work would govern how much money I earn is so far removed from most of my experience.

After reassessing my financial situation, I revisited the CBD company and researched investing in a different pathway to success. Something that’s more tailored to what I’m actually willing to do. After all, writing a business plan that one doesn’t put into action isn’t actually a business plan. It’s a fiction. So far, none of my fictions have motivated me to quit my day job.

With my newfound parental subsidy, I now can feasibly and comfortably invest in setting up myself in business with a virtual warehouse. The biggest appeal is that my customers will be able to place an order with me, then the company packages it up and ships the package to the customer.

I felt energized coming up with this plan. Not only is it a new endeavor, but if successful, the additional income will allow me to quit my day job and have control over my own schedule…AGAIN.

(And if not, I still have my day job.)