The question of the day: Is it okay to be mediocre at work if it means you are pursuing your art outside of work? I have this theory. The theory of life energy points. Each of us wakes up with a certain amount each day – say ten bars of energy – just as you have on your cell phone. As an artist who is not doing their art all day for a living, how many energy points should you devote to your day job? Eight? Five? Two? What is fair? Let’s face it, when you spend upwards of 10-12 hours a day with whipper-snappers who actually are doing their life’s work at your day job, its easy to see you don’t measure up. Its easy to start wanting to work the extra hours, get that big client, develop the creative brief that wins them all over, and show those power-hungry kiss-asses that you can be just as brilliant. Give them a run for their money and all that. Fine. Except that’s not the goal. Or is it?
By my very nature, I want to excel at whatever it is I’m doing (possibly a result of my early years schooled in the art of Christian bible-thumping guilt and my profound understanding at an early age that the Lord would want me to give it my very best; it seems years of therapy haven’t quite gotten the “what have you done for Jesus lately?” mentality out of my now-agnostic self). When you merge my need to please and my desire to “do good work” with a job that’s only meant to pay the bills and not bore me to tears, I find that I continually forget what I’m supposed to be doing. I get so wrapped up in my do-gooding at work, that before I realize it, I return home to my writing desk to find that I’ve only got one bar of life energy left for the day – and I’ve not even made dinner, gone to the gym, walked the dog, kissed my boyfriend, folded the laundry, etc.
If I happen to have a slow day at work (read: able to conserve much-needed energy points), I often feel guilty for not going “above and beyond” what is expected of me. All around me, the lifers hustle about and talk of new strategies and ways to push the envelope, blah, blah, blah. Don’t get me wrong – I play a convincing part. I know my stuff. You don’t pretend at something for 10 years without eventually knowing what you are doing. You can’t blame them – they love what they are doing. A good percentage of the time, I like what I’m doing too…if it weren’t for that writing I’m trying to do as well.
Therein lies the dilemma. At some point, I’m afraid I’ll just give in to the need to be great at something. If I’m always going to be a lacking writer, why also must I be a lacking worker? I need to believe that excellence in some form is in the cards for me. And if for whatever reason excellence isn’t an option and a balance or counterbalance (not to get too cheeky, but this blog isn’t so named for nothing) must be negotiated – what opposing force wins and which is neutralized or just written off? Is it possible to excel at both? How many energy points does that take and where can I buy extras?
You could also take the view that mediocrity in art and in work is acceptable if the rest of your life is rich. Point taken. Considering the abysmal state of our nation and the equally depressing state of the world, I realize it’s a luxury to be able to even ponder this question. Factor in my relationships, and I have to admit that the rest of my life is pretty damn fine. But that doesn’t answer my question. There are those who will say it is the pursuit of excellence (inspirational posters with trees and rivers and streams loom before me) that matters, not the end game but the journey, and so on. Platitudes to make underachievers feel better, or is there something to it?
That’s what I’m trying to sort out.
