It is safe to say that there was something typical about the times of my childhood. My Father was hardworking and blue collar. My Mother had corporate experience with large corporation names on her resume. However, Mom chose the role of a housewife for a while. She chose this until I reached an age that my brother and I could govern ourselves at home alone. Yet, a large portion of my childhood memories are that of my Father, whom I refer to as The Old Man, coming home late after a long day’s work. By this time, I was already washed, ready and dressed for bed. I could see the intensity in his brow. I could see that he had worked hard and that he was tired and that yes, The Old Man was left the proverbial “Big piece of chicken.”

If anyone were to tell me that I would be looking to change careers in my late 40’s, I suppose they’d have been crazy. Then again, if I thought about this for a second; if the old me met the new me, I suppose the old me would say something like, “What the hell is this?”

Somewhere in life is the difference between ideas and reality. And somewhere was the dream and somewhere else was the reality that no one reaches their dreams for free. This takes work. This takes dedication and understanding of how to decipher between beneficial and wasteful lessons we learn along the way.

Much like the rest of us, I was young once. I had a 10-speed bicycle, which is how I got around my town. As a matter of fact, I have a question. Do you remember your first job?
I do.

There are black and white pictures of construction sites that were taken before the times of the great depression. These are pictures of workers, of men, filthy from labor, and standing on steel beams that would later become the support of a tall building that makes up the City’s skyline. I have seen pictures of men, eating lunch from their lunch boxes or working with their hands. I see this and I think about the labor that makes up our great city.

I think about the men I grew up with as an apprentice at my Father’s shop. I saw how they lived. I saw what they did to earn their living and how they worked to survive and keep a roof above their heads and clothes upon their backs.
I remember signs that said, “Will work for food.” And nowadays, we see people who refuse to work for money, food or even shelter.

It is true that if you love what you do for a living then you will never have to go to work another day of your life. It is also true that you can always love what you do. But, be advised; this doesn’t always mean someone will pay you. Just because you love to do something doesn’t mean someone will buy into your craft. For example, I love music but I don’t think Radio City Music Hall is in my future any time soon.

Love what you do for a living and you’ll live a happy life. This is all true. However, for most of the world, the working life is a chore and tasked-filled event. For most people, their job often comes with few rewards. This includes dealing with people that are less than desirable. This means bosses and a possible environment that is substandard or unsatisfying. It is true that a harsh work environment can take over morale. It is also true that a good attitude can get any of us through the day. But yet, this is life and much of our life consists of working for a living.

There is a word that we’ve been hearing or using since the day we were born. The word itself is only a word. It has meaning though. There is a connotation to this word that might not be altogether positive but yet, this is only a word. It’s a necessary word too. The word is “Stop.”

There is something we often forget about ourselves. This goes beyond our capabilities. This is us at our core. This is our attitude and the way we adapt to our circumstances as well as our surroundings.
The fact remains that most of us spend more time at work than we do at home or doing pleasant things, which does not mean work is or has to be unpleasant. Work is part of life.
We live some, think some, work some and play some as well as eat, breathe and sleep some too. This is life. The idea of a work life balance, however, is something completely different. 

Accepting nominations and compliments is difficult for me. Needless to say, I do not do awards or nominations because, well, put simply, awards distract me. Plus, I never saw myself as this kind of writer.
The longer I am on this path, which I call my art, the more I learn about the person I want to be and the writer I want to become. Humbly, I see myself as this; I am proud to be as I am, which is self-taught. I am proud that I made a commitment to write and stuck with it. The commitment to write is something that I take very seriously. My growth as a writer and my ability to continue, regardless of the readers or the critics, is very important to me.