. . . and then there was pickle.

Necessity is the mother of desperation, and today I spent the day working with Ryan installing satellite TV in strangers homes. Not that if I knew any of them it would have made my job any easier, but at least then I would have had an excuse for my incompetence.

I have always been ‘handy’, but there is a big difference between working on your own project and being a professional technician. I am not a professional technician.

As I am still unemployed, not having heard back from my recent interview yet, and feeling the tug and twinge of the impending need for income – I ventured forth to do what most people do every day.

I left my home to go do a job.

I have led a spoiled, sheltered, idealistic adulthood that has enabled me to believe that one should be paid to do what one is good at and/or loves. Jobs have little to do with that premise.

A job is an exchange of your life for money. That is my rough summation of the concept. I’m not used to expending energy against my will. In fact I am not really used to expending energy at all these days.

My recent vocation, daddy, is more of an effort or exercise in will, determination, and logic. I am not used to the idea that my physical discomfort has an equal and reciprocated value in dollars.

Because today I was uncomfortable, and was so, in the pursuit of money.

This is a lesson I learned long ago in the mailroom of a best left forgotten newspaper where I was once the fasted ad stuffer this side of the Mississippi.

It is amazing how seven years working in your chosen profession will erase your memory, and work ethic.

I don’t like work. I love projects.

Today was a horrific reminder of how much I want to find a job in my field. I was once an excellent worker, and as I have aged and been spoiled - I am now perhaps the laziest man on the job that has ever lived.

This is not the historical path for me. I have always focused my OCD onto whatever task lie ahead of me – regardless of the job’s relevance or gratification. I think in my maturing understanding of the value of my soul and time, I have come to the acceptance - that toward many actions in this world . . . I just don’t give a shit.

I don’t care if you enjoy your television experience, but I do want to be able to wipe my daughter’s ass with hypoallergenic wipes - and today those two concepts somehow became related.

I am one in a thousand that discovered my calling, worked toward an education in my field – and built a resume and ties to the professional community that would allow for a sustainable career in the arts. I did so without wealth or family ties.

For the first time in my adult life I seem to find myself being pushed out of the center of my comfort zone in the working world. I know that I have said that this was a reasonable sacrifice to make for the support of my family, but when the act itself in upon you – it doesn’t feel very good.

And it isn’t that I look down on anyone that does anything but what I’m trying to do for a living. I think we all have different ways and approaches to satisfying our needs for personal fulfillment and the balance of financial support.

Ryan is one of the more intelligent people I know. He has a deeper understanding of all things scientific and mechanical than I could every hope to. He also has the vision and problem solving ability to walk into these people’s houses and within five minutes come up with an executable plan for the most time and cost effective solution to their unique situation.

I don’t care.

I think it may be the difference between a sculptor and a painter; or a gardener and a tree trimmer. I am definitely a gardener. I love to plant seeds and cultivate the right chaos for the right corner. Other people like to look at the chaos and whittle it down to a manageable and beautiful form.

The world needs both, but I haven’t been able to match my skill for developing a crop with the reality of feeding my growing herd.

Perhaps it is the same in parenting. It is the balance of the cultivation and the pruning that can make the stunning shape.

The trick is that as parents we don’t get to pick one role or the other. We have to do both, and I think that is what I am missing in my life. I need to relearn the ability to prune if I am to find the balance in my form.

Pickle’s Papa