Day One. Again.

It’s been too long since I first had this dream. The color in my facial hair is long gone and the hair atop my head won’t be far behind.


Day One. Again

C. Derick Miller – Head Writer

Your Stories on Video

How many times in your life have you said publicly or out loud that “this is the first day of the rest of your life”? Of those many times (and, if you’re anything like me, there have been many) were you dead wrong? Everything stayed the same and nothing changed no matter how hard you worked. It just ended up being yet another page in the same chapter of the book of your life. I’m on the verge of one of those change/stay the same scenarios and I’ve learned over the years not to get too excited until I have concrete proof that change is indeed on its way.

I am hours away from my wife hopping a plane to Boston where she will become the corporate general manager of a major corporation. Considering that she and I both cut our teeth with a different company in the fine art industry, I know her life is about to become something completely different. There’s no doubt about it. There’s no way she can live the same way and be successful in what she must do. Things WILL change for her. Then…there’s me.

I honestly despise most aspects of the fine art industry. It really doesn’t have much to do with the art (although I think most modern art is trash that’s been given a catchy name and someone with too much money and not enough to spend it on decided to fund the artist) but mostly the art collectors. These people are the worst of the worst, meanest of the mean, and look upon the less fortunate as though we’re some kind of hinderance rather than help. Then again, I do recall being referred to as ‘the help’ on numerous occasions, forced to avert my eyes when entering their home, and removing my shoes. Some say it’s a way to preserve the carpet. I think it’s a way to be made to feel more vulnerable in their presence.

I have encountered some of the worst people on the planet while working in the fine art industry. You’d think the worst ones would be in the major cities like New York, Los Angeles, or Miami, but you’re dead wrong. No, it’s the ones in the suburbs. I’ve been dealing with it for almost a decade now and I’m not quite sure how much longer I can take it. I’m less into the art scene now and more into solitude. Writing in a quiet room in the early morning hours or cycling down a trail through the trees.

I guess the pandemic is what changed me the most. While most of us have been hunkered down and latching onto one another for comfort, the art industry chugged along through the entire plague and even increased their traffic as seven hundred thousand Americans fell victim to the COVID-19 virus. Why? Because they could afford to pretend everything was normal. And what did they do when you tried to remind them that the world was in shambles? They’d come down on you and accuse you of being incompetent. Therefore, I’m leaving the field. It’s not the art and it’s not the artists. It’s the buyers.

I won’t even bother to bring up the fact that certain politicians have billions of dollars in art hidden in caves in Kentucky as equity and a way to dodge taxes. Also, I will fail to bring up that the owners of one of the richest consumer chains in the world purchases millions of dollars in art from art fairs to hide their wealth, but only pays their employees a bare minimum wage. It’s enough to make me sick, and that’s why I hope today is the first new day of the rest of my life.

As of January 1st, 2022, it all goes well, I will be a full-time writer for the first time since I was initially published by a failed Dallas based goth culture magazine in 2007. It’s been my dream all these years and I hope beyond hope that it’s going to happen. I love writing about all of you at Your Stories on Video and I’d like to do it more often. I would also like to have the time to write my own stories, make films, and just create things in general. With my wife taking this new job, I think there’s a possibility that my fourteen-year-old dream will finally come true.

So, with that, I take a deeper than deep breath, hold it in until I can’t stand it, and exhale all the negativity into the universe. Six of those years of me being a published, professional writer was spent working in law enforcement in North Texas. I’m sure I don’t even have to explain the negativity involved in that. The other eight were dealing with fine art and fine art collectors. In all honesty, the clients aren’t all that different from criminals when it comes to mentality. Some people are mean for the sake of being mean.

I promise to myself this time that today is definitely the first day of the rest of my life. I will go forth and do great things, making the world a better place to live by creating art rather than dealing with it for the richest of the rich. Also, I promise myself, no matter how successful I may be at being a full-time artist, that I won’t turn into the type of person I despise.

It’s been too long since I first had this dream. The color in my facial hair is long gone and the hair atop my head won’t be far behind. Now is the time to act because time is running out. This is the last act in my performance to this world and I need to go out with all guns blazing. I owe it to everyone who’s ever believed in me but, most importantly, I owe it to myself.

Was there ever something in your life that meant this much to you? Here at Your Stories on Video, we want to know! Tell us the story of your life, your successes, your failures, your dreams (both achieved and forgotten) and we’ll make them all come to life in film to be shared by those who love you most and those who are yet to come! Tell us about your passions and remember, it’s still not too late to make them happen.

We believe in you.

I believe in you.

You should believe in you.

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