I woke up in a beautiful, large, minimalist bedroom with a skylight the size of the whole ceiling, but there were mechanical blinds that filtered the light in sections, so one could program which part of the room received natural light.
Yes, it was a dream.
You see, i was meant to be an interior designer in life. That was my calling.
But when i enrolled in community college nearly 21 years ago, they weren’t offering that field of study that year.
So i settled for Graphic Design and Photography.
I’m not a very crafty person; perhaps it was better this way. Or perhaps the world missed out on something big.
I don’t have superior taste or any sort of Steve Jobs super power, but my mom does. Between her hyper-critical eye and my endless quest for her approval- i would have been a great designer.
I’ve been thinking about buying a coding book for children; maybe that would be easier for me than when i tried to learn Python through a self-taught online school.
The only way i would try to switch my career at this point is if i lost my job. It’s always had an element of redundancy, but lately i worry it’s so unchallenging that it makes me dumber in the long run.
I don’t really speak to anyone all day. Most phone conversations follow a pretty standard script. 95% of issues that arise are problems i already know how to solve.
I wish my job was more theoretical. I do try to do things when there’s downtime to keep my mental health in check.
I study languages, play guitar, or do a series of stretches. Now and then, i summon enough inspiration to draw.
But the better i get at Sales, the more work i have, and the less time i have to do things that enrich my mind.
There is an unspoken benefit to redundant manual labor, though, which is similar to when you go for a drive on a familiar road.
You can kind of let go of conscious thinking for a while, leaving your arms and legs on auto response, and just let your thoughts drift along the currents of inner self.
You’re not off, but you’re not really there either. It’s a difficult balance to strike because we can only do that when we feel safe and there aren’t distractions.
My husband just told me he dreamt curtains made of falling sand, so maybe my dream makes me nothing. Or maybe we were supposed to design together.
There is a creative genius side to my husband that few people get to see. Visual arts were not something his family encouraged, and he’s always underestimated the value of his visual art ideas.
Instead, he leans toward pragmatism.
I guess most of us do.
Our first seven years of marriage, he edited videos. It was mostly weddings and graduations. We wanted couples to feel as happy as we did having found each other. LOLOL.
But sometimes the photographs he takes are way better than mine. I actually end up building on some of his ideas. He’s not afraid to plan shots; i’m much more intuitive.
At his job, he was making short bio videos for a while. He really enjoyed that. But his title is as an I.T. so they eventually outsourced that.
Were we not strapped down by high mortgage and the other burdens this world brings, and if we didn’t yell at each other, who knows what we might accomplish. Again.
I say “again” because i do feel we accomplished way more than anyone expected in our first seven years together.
Then life happened. Aging parents. Depression. Emotional and virtual affairs. A cycle of unfounded accusations on both our parts, to the point that we suffocated our own potential.
(Though in all honesty mine was more of a pathetic failed attempt at an emotional fair).
If i could program blinds to filter out our self-destructive thinking patterns, we’d be all set.
The last ten years have been difficult, but here we are, rekindling the ol’ flame, about to drive into the most romantic side of Canada. And i just used his toothbrush by mistake.
We’re on the fast lane to intimacy now.