A look inside a mucus clogged mind
The soot of India is in my nose. All of it.
Battling our second bout of colds, we are spending two days in a somewhat comfortable guesthouse in Delhi, doing nothing much. This turns out to be well-composted with free-flowing boogers fertile soil for thoughts like this to flourish:
My butt has no gears for money making – in short, I suck at it.
This is not an opinion, this is a fact. A very hard and cold one. The evidence is clear. I have been a smart, capable, quick learning, creative, inventive, sharp-thinking female for at least two decades. I have had experiences in my life that others would have turned into gold. Yet, here I am in India, not happy about paying freaking $12 for dinner for my whole family of five!
The worst part of this is that I know what needs to be done, I am not stupid. I have a bloody Marketing and Business Management degree amongst other, hm, papers. All of which I can safely stuff in my gear-less butt, for all they matter.
Before we left, I was thinking how Mr.Blab and I would be able to make something out of this trip and at least get some of our money saved. Hey, its an amazing journey, desired by many, accomplished by few, people monetize a lot less than that. I should be able to do something out of that. Surely.
At the very least Mr.Blab said he would take on the job of emailing small guesthouses and homestays to offer them my photography services for their properties for a few days of free stay. Some of them would be interested. Surely.
None of this has come to fruition. The blog is still in a quiet corner of the web and Mr.Blab has sent not one of those emails.
Instead, browsing way more successful bloggers from time to time, I am reminded of my own idiocy and decapitated entrepreneurship.Â People squeeze out of very little a lot. I do with quite a lot, well,Â nothing. Then the other day I was watching one of those reality shows, real housewives or something, where one can clearly see that brains, skills and ability has very little to do with financial success, and I was slapped hard by the reality of capitalism.
None of this would really matter if money was inconsequential. They are obviously not enough of a motivator for me, which is not really a surprise, but they do matter, especially when one’s hobbies are traveling the world, playing with gadgets and savoring theÂ fine things in life, like time and creativity.
And I am getting worried about what we will do when we get back.Â Yes, as usual I have ideas of these businesses I will start to keep me/us away from the 9 to 5 workforce. But who am I kidding? Not myself anymore. The music is in my face and it is deafeningly loud.
I am not extraordinary enough to rely on word of mouth and success falling into my lap and I am not pushy enough to make the best of what I have.
The moral of the story is that we cannot escape of our own selves, no matter how far we decide to go. Change comes from within (oh, how corny that sounds), no matter if its about the job we hate, the weight we avoid to see in the mirror or the healthy lifestyle one aspires to. There are no employer angels who visit from nowhere, magic pills for toned bodies or junk tasting but good for us food.
I need get my butt in gear, any gear. Right after my nose clears. Yes. Oh, and after I finish all those posts I have to write. Yup, cause that is important. And lets not forget all that other stuff that I use as excuse, because
I SUCK! And while I suck I will miss this opportunity. Its as simple as that.
This is one of my biggest flows that I would love to change. How about you?