There are some days, some really long days, when I’m talking about the publishing house launch, about wanting to start a fair trade art movement, about wanting artists to get health benefits, and retirement counseling and respect – and the day adds up to these questions from people. Some are people I know, others are strangers.
“Why do all this work for artists who don’t bother to do it themselves? If they wanted better pay, they’d negotiate it.”
“Why not just use the company to publish your friends? No one else really cares anyway. Besides, only your friends are gonna donate to the Kickstarter anyway. ”
“Why a kickstarter? Who just give money to random ideas without any guarantee of return? Who does that?”
“Why healthcare? Doesn’t the Obama health plan cover artists too?”
“Why? What’s the point?”
“I think it’s a great idea, but who’s gonna want to sign up with an unknown for a fair trade price that no one will pay?”
“Why does it have to be you?”
“Why work so hard to start a company to publish other people? Why not just focus on getting yourself published?”
Then I come home, curl up in bed with a drink and think… with so many people asking those kinds of questions, it’s a wonder anyone does a goddamn thing that might benefit another living person at all. What’s the point, indeed?
Then I realize I only think that defeated when I’m tired, haven’t replenished my energy stores with any kind of care and I can’t see a light at the end yet. Some days are disproportionately heavy. I admit, sometimes the weight is hard to carry alone, and my belief in the cause and faith that it’s the right path will only keep my head above the water so long.
So a drink, some chocolate and an evening with a trash romance and hopefully tomorrow there will be a silver lining.