Holy Squirrel Nuts, am I the only one like this?
Since the end of the last ice age, I have jumped into a wide variety of hobbies. I believe this condition was first identified by ancient Roman philosophers who named it; "Varitus Maximus Stupidicus" or, "to much variety makes you nuts." It goes something like this; I apply myself for a while and develop a modest level of skill. Then, after considerable trepidation, I show my work to the world. The praises are profuse until I casually mention that the work is for sale. Then, like the "bum's rush" of years past, the admirer backs away from the conversation as though I had pooped myself.
The story has repeated itself with my paintings, wood carvings, walking sticks, you name it.
"If I make it, they will leave."
So now I find myself wondering, "why the hell bother?" Like ol' Pavlov's pooch I have a pretty good idea that the end results of this latest experiment will end the same way. Namely, me hoping to make money with my most recent expression of temporary talent, only to find out that, once again, I have been kidding myself.
Then, after realizing that the value of my work seems to be zip-a-reeno, I surrender to the realization that I have created another dust-catcher for some loved-one who is too polite to refuse yet another gift. Some say that I should keep going if it makes me happy, but isn't that just delaying the inevitable? Hell, at least ol' Pavlov's pup knew when to turn on the slobber faucet. I, on the other hand, have some human hysteria telling me that maybe this time things will be different.
So, what do you do when the only logical course of action seems to be ending the hobby? Do you hang on with determination? Is desired outcome only reached after determined effort?
Maybe that determined effort is how we show the universe that we are serious this time, and not just playing around.
Keep on keeping on.
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