Good Ol' Capitalism

 “I’m robbing Peter to pay Paul,” Mother always said. Always frustrated. Everyone thinks they’re going to do better than their parents until the rubber meets the road.  Now there’s too much month at the end of the money, and I’m not even keeping up with the Joneses.  I thought I was going to be famous. I thought EVERYTHING was going to be my ticket out of that small town I spent my first 23 years in. I spent hundreds of dollars on materials. My way of thinking was if a craft wasn’t made to sell, there was no point in the hobby.  Good old capitalism. Everything has always been about money. I was barefoot in my grandma’s front yard one day, wearing nothing but a diaper. I was CERTAIN I could sell my new “invention” …. Spoiler Alert: that “invention” was nothing more than Grandma’s yarn scraps wound around twigs from her yard.  All the while, I was knee-high to a grasshopper.  The drive never really went away. I mean, I was lazy—don’t get me wrong. I didn’t want to wash dishes, but I would pull all-nighters running blog traffic analytics or painting a massive canvas.  Hyper fixation.  Now in my late twenties, I see that was probably the still undiagnosed autism. In the 1990s and early 2000s, we were seen as rambunctious kids with “ADHD.”