On the suckiness of freedom

     I was never met to work a nine to five, or at least I never met a regular job, a person does not need a degree for, that after a month my brain was fizzling, and two months I was bored into a wild manicness. I need challenge, risk, and growth or I go mad. That was what I liked about wildland firefighting, and one of the many things drawing me to painting. But is there such thing as too much challenge? Well, obviously, if you are not up to it. And that is the question I have to ask myself all the time.
     Making my go as an urban landscape painter is rife with daily challenges. Predominantly a nagging feeling of self doubt, because I could always be doing better. The painting side has gone well, I feel comfortable with my growth and production. The hard part, where I am riddled with uncertainty is the sales department. Maybe now that I am leaving Portland that voice in my head will stop saying, "Dammit man, I am an artist not a salesman. If I was a salesman I would never of ended up here." Maybe. But probably not.
     But that is not what I want to talk about here. I want to talk about this feeling I have all the time, this haunting freedom. See all I have to do is paint and sell what I paint. This morning I sold a painting for a hundred and fifty dollars. Which is nice, but it is not enough that I can slow down. But, because I could do anything the doubts start arising. What is my next move. Should I paint another one here in seattle, or go back to Portland. Should I move to Port Townsend this month. I formulate plans, but there is always a doubt, am I going about this all wrong?
     In some ways the answer is easy. at the moment I am making art and still have a few bucks to live on. So I am making it. But the winter is on the horizon. And I know I am failing.
      All day people approach me saying they like my paintings. In Portland I said I was being killed with kindness, and it continues here. The reality is I should try putting out a hat. I should try soliciting, maybe in the real world and the cyber world for a few bucks or coins. Every dollar going in to the coffers rather than out is needed. And every day I know I am not doing enough.
      That is the horror of freedom. I can do what ever I want, go where ever I like. Right now and anytime I know there are no limits to my options. I can do whatever I can think of doing, but what should I do. I know myself and my skills. I know I will only grow as a salesman out of desperate necessity. And that is not far away. The future is entirely unknown and completely in my hands. And that is the scariest thing in the world.