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no room for hipsters

the occupation of Ashley and Levon

So maybe this will be for my own sake or maybe it may be of some interest to others but I have decided to keep a blog to chronicle our attempt at leaving a perfectly good desk job, and masters program in Ashley’s case, to be two of the hungry faces of artists in New York City. I have manned seven desk jobs with spurts of restaurants and supplemental ebay across four cities in the last five years. There is a large growth in my head filled with corporate how to’s and sales pitches. I had a wardrobe of mediocre, okay, cheap suits. I worked for a desperate bank during the year that all banks failed. I went ten months with three paychecks selling life insurance and annuities. I taught consumer responsibility in the community, which I am proud of. I am a certified instructor by the state department of education to certify high school teachers to teach financial literacy, and that is rock and roll my friend.

This has all been a nice practical experience that would be fine if I had ever wanted to do that. The fact is, I got trapped into a cycle that a lot of us find ourselves in. I picked a major because I didn’t want to go to school forever. I took an entry level peon job because I got married young and had responsibilities. I got another job when I hated that one. I repeated that process every few months about seven times and wondered why the wrong track never corrected itself. It never does so I’m breaking it.

I’ll be 27 in a couple weeks. My friends are now a few rungs up the ladder or graduating medical schools and the like. Yes I sometimes wonder what it would be like to have always wanted to be a dentist. I took a lot of seemingly good advice and tried to play music on the side while I “earned a stable living.” A stable living doesn’t exist when you have no talent for stable environments. Maybe I could be a dentist on the side while I earned a stable living. No, to be honest with yourself you must be what you know you are.  Otherwise you feel largely pathetic and when you lose respect for yourself, well… And your resume gets longer and longer until its unexplainable and going to New York makes as much sense as not to go.

I married a girl who can paint and craft and decorate and basically make life beautiful. We used to say when we were young and smarter that we wanted it to be us against the world. We were going to buy a van and load it up with canvases and instruments and live like beatniks. That ring on my finger put some sort of ripple down my spine and I turned into provider man. And when provider man fails he turns into a bitter guy when he sees his sacrifices unapreciated when they were never asked for. Now you know where a lot of my songs come from. I like to rock the party with this stuff.

People say I am too transparant and trusting so I hope I learn to be a little more cunning sometime between sitting here blabbing about my deepest scars and moving to New York. I don’t think it will be anything but interesting. We’re moving our stuff in storage at my Mother-in-law’s place in D.C. and taking a train to Brooklyn and living at the Salvation Army while we find a place. Then we plan on selling paintings and playing clubs while working part time jobs that we don’t have yet. And all of this seems safer to me than turning 28 next year with a few more hours spent in a cubicle. I’ll keep writing about it as long as people read it and as long as I need to say it.

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