Last Friday my mum called me, at work, because she "needed to talk to me". In a panic I answer the phone, assuming that someone is dead, dying, or at the very least enraged. Here is that phone call:
mum: I think you and i need to get together and talk. Just the two of us.
me: (omfg someone IS dead) Ok...?
mum: I think we need to talk about your career.
Let's get some context: I'm 26. I graduated from a BFA program in film (HA) in 2007. In the intervening 4 years I have:
- done a free internship
- traveled for 3 months, thus blowing my savings
- worked for 7 months in retail
- gotten a (low-paying) job in my industry, where I have remained for 2.5 years.
- become the Thane of Whiterun.
It's not overwhelmingly great. But at least I'm not strung out on heroin or a Twilight fan amiright?
But yes. I am aware my "career" is less than great. That is an accepted fact, proof even that life is shitty and underpaid. The bigger issue is her following advice:
mum: I think you should sit down and think about how much more time you want to put into this "film thing".
I was going to retort with "actually I work in television", but then I'd have to correct myself and say "actually I work in motion graphics", but then I'd have to jointly explain wtf motion graphics are & how I don't actually draw or create anything.
I constantly criticize myself for being in a job that has no further potential and leaves me dead inside. The last thing I need is an external critic. TRUST me...the internal one's got that shit covered.
But back to the issue at hand...wtf am I doing? I work on my own projects, but turning something you love into profit is not as easy and one would hope (phase 1: make stuff you love, phase 2:???, phase 3: profit! ).
But alas. I chose, and choose, to work in a field where the accepted order of things is: work for free to prove your worth, get paid min. wage to prove your worth, work 60+hrs a week to prove your worth, holy shitballs you're worth too much so we're terminating your contract. Which is ultimately the accepted order of many careers...
Oh shit. I think this is adulthood.
I thought there would be more free sandwiches.