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Two Words

This morning I woke up to 3 green notifications on my iPhone screen.

“Account Overdrawn. Balance -$30.50. To transfer funds…”


My story isn’t unique. I’m 20 something with half of a college degree, a heap of debt, and a job I hate that can’t possibly pay me enough to afford life in this decade. (Is it possible to have too many unread emails from Sallie Mae? I’m asking for a friend.)

How can I fix this? How can I make more money?

Easy. Get another job, work more hours, spend less time pursuing your dreams, stop attending events, and work. Work like the Rihanna song chorus. (Don’t pretend you don’t know which one I’m talking about.) There are two words every day that stop me from putting my head in the mud and working my life away.

Two words keep me focused…

What if.

What if, my ability to create is more powerful than my ability to get money?

What if, my ability to create empowers me to get money?

Ain’t no way in hell I was born to work, work, work until I die. I was birthed for creativity in a society that values mathematics and science. I am intuitive in a world of physicality. I was not born to follow the beaten path.

I was born in the right brain ready to paint, write, sculpt, dream… yet… I’m asked to calculate, analyze, and work. To come into a rectangle, with a black blazer, and black slacks, and black heels, and a white shirt. I have to say “Yes ma’am,” when I feel like “Fuck you,” and that feels faux.

Those two powerful words tap in my head to the beat of a djembe. I want to dance! I want to express, breathe and live in What If.

Possibilities for creativity drive me. What is the unknown but space for improvement and beauty? There is so much peace in What If.

Moral of the story: I’m getting another job. A job pursuing my creativity.

Support the artists.



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