Sometimes I wish I didn’t have a day job. That instead of going to work in a library most days, I could devote all my time to writing and taking pictures.
Then I remember all of the odd, inspiring events that happen while I’m at work, like the kids who think our automatic doors are magic because they open by themselves, the photographs I find slipped between the pages of returned books and the interesting conversations.
My job connects me to life and feeds into my art in unexpected ways. I mine these events, storing them for later. Thinking like this keeps me sane on the trying days, days when I have to deal with difficult customers or under-staffing.
So really, it’s not so bad, I’d miss, all this, if it wasn’t for the day job.