I’m working for myself now. Which is not something I ever particularly wanted to do, if I’m honest. Before I go any further, let me be specific. Because my partner spends his days working with founders, and founders are entrepreneurs in the Merriam-Webster sense:

entrepreneurial — having to do with the creation and development of economic ventures : of, relating to, characteristic of, or suited to an entrepreneur.

That is hard fucking work. The kind that builds companies, moves capital, supports families, and outlasts most of the people who attempt it. I have a lot of respect for the people who do it well. I am not one.

So when I say I’m not the entrepreneurial sort, that’s the part I mean. Not with intent, at least. It’s just that I need SOMETHING to do while I haunt this world, since we’re all expected to contribute meaningfully to the world by earning imaginary earth credits.

I’m a bad entrepreneur. It doesn’t even hurt my feelings to say so. Most people are. Most people don’t want to be an entrepreneur.

So what I’m doing is slow and steady. Make the art. Write the guidebooks. Build the decks. The entrepreneurship part I’ll figure out later. That’s a separate thing right? yes? Oh… so then that makes me an underemployed artist? writer? occultist? I’ll be sure to update my resume.

And somehow the thing I picked is exactly like something I would have played as a kid.

My current day to day is mostly playing with tarot cards. Touching tarot cards. Looking for tarot cards. Reading tarot cards. Reading tarot books. Photographing tarot cards. Mixing tarot cards up into new and interesting configurations. And once a month I get to sit down and pull readings for my paid subs — that’s seriously my favorite part.

Sometimes it brings me right back to the giant shrub outside my childhood home in Fresno, California. At least I think it was the house in Fresno. We moved around a bit.

Sometimes that was the only cool place I could find to catch a moment to myself. To talk to myself, or to whoever I imagined was there with me, out loud and with a normal level of enthusiasm, without being judged. Also I think I thought the fairies lived there. I would tidy up, leave them notes, make little potions out of dirt, water, melted popsicles, leaves, and berries. I’m pretty sure they were more likely to kill someone than be an elixir of health and happiness, which is what I imagined them to be.

The more time I work on this — much like the more time I spend in therapy — the more work I’m doing to undo the undue expectations placed on me when I was born.

I said that like I am some special magical princess who has had the horrors thrust upon her unduly and at more than her fair share. Nope. That’s not it. I feel like you’ve had the horrors thrust upon you as well. Sincerely. And I don’t even know exactly who is reading this. Still confident.

I want to believe in a world of beautiful humanity and positive intent.

But I also want world peace. An end to global hunger. An amazing tattooer who wants to trade tattoos for tarot goods and services. A cherry coke that is all natural, good for me, and tastes and has the exact texture and consistency as a standard cherry coke. Art on every street corner. Equality. Gluten-free bread that is completely indiscernible from normal bread, except that I am able to digest it without world war 7 breaking out in my body. Universal healthcare. Oh, and for me to no longer be allergic to dairy because now that we’ve confirmed I am… sadness.

But we’re not talking about that.

We’re talking about why the fuck I would do anything entrepreneurial knowing the things I know. I don’t know. What even is this post? Whatever does it mean?

How do I do the sucky part where I business like an adult human of successful measure?

Better yet — how do I get someone else to do the sucky part for me so I can make art and read cards all day.