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"The self is not something ready-made, but something in continuous formation through choice of action."
-- John Dewey

In the strange place that I call my imagination, there are two different Ri's. Two ideas of myself that oppose one another almost completely. Both are myself, but they're entirely different from one another. Between them, they embody all the important hopes and dreams that I harbor for myself. And yet they are so entirely separate, so different in every detail, that one makes the other close to impossible. They are both me, but they're like something out of Sliders: they are each a person I could potentially become, if I make the right choices, work at the right things. 

On one hand, there is Artist Ri, who spends her days reading and listening to music, playing with cats, walking, praying by herself, riding horses, playing with her webpage, making a mess with watercolors, napping and drinking tea. At night she sits up writing, usually far into the morning, rarely falling into bed before five a.m. Sometimes she works on her latest novel, sometimes she plays with ideas for one of her comic-book series, and sometimes she throws herself into a fit of poetry and immerges, tired and happy the next morning, with five pages of rhymed iambic pentameter and three haiku to show for it. She revels in the Bohemian lifestyle, and makes enough money off her novels and comic books combined to avoid working much, but she puts in a few shifts a week at an art gallery in Laguna Beach because she's a friend of the artist. 

This Ri will almost surely never be. I think the last shot she had at existence winked out when I married Bill. Not that he smothers my creativity or anything...I just don't think I'd be able to keep that kind of schedule and still be married to him. I'd never get to see him awake, unless it was while he was getting up to complain about my having the lights and computers on in the middle of the night, and making an ungodly noise on the keyboard while he's trying to sleep. Then of course, there's the issue of children, which we plan to have. If living the artist's life is hard with a spouse, it has to be almost impossible with children. At least if you want them to know you well enough to pick you out of a police line-up. And I can't quite shake the feeling that I wouldn't really be completely satisfied like that, either. Somehow, no matter how much it appeals to me, I really don't think this artist's life would ever quite fulfill me.

Which brings us to Homemaker Ri, who is pretty much the antithesis of Artist Ri. Homemaker Ri tucks her children into bed at 8:30 and reads to them out of The Hobbit before singing them a lullabye, kissing them goodnight, and shutting off the lights. She is in bed by 10:00 at the latest. She reads a novel, talks to her husband, or reads him The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy until 10:30, and then falls easily off to sleep. She gets up early to have a hot breakfast ready before her husband leaves for work each morning. She prays with her family and then sees her husband out the door with a kiss and a wave and "Don't forget to pick up milk on the way home. Dinner's a seven." 

She assigns her children their work for the day (she homeschools all of them, even the antsy impossible ones) and has devotions with them. Later perhaps she takes her kids to the park and reads while they play, or takes them to the barn to ride the horse. Quite possibly she works in her big garden, getting dirt up to her elbows and coming in to fix dinner smelling of potting soil and lavender. She has dinner almost on the table when her husband comes home. She sends him outdoors to enjoy the last of the sunlight with his children while she puts the finishing touches on dinner. Afterwards, she cleans up (or perhaps she delegates the task to the older children) and then everyone gathers in the living room, where she plays for her family on the piano and everyone sings before they go to bed.

In reality, much of this fantasy would be difficult to accomplish. I am as much a night owl as ever and it doesn't look likely to let up anytime soon, so the hot breakfast is out, at least as a daily thing. I can't even play "Chopsticks" on the piano, so it would probably be Bill playing for us, but I'd still like to see my family singing together before bed every night. I like the idea. While I also love the idea of gardens and gardening, I am not much at the practice of it, and I hardly excel when it comes to hard work and elbow grease. Still...it's a pleasant thought.

If Artist Ri and Homemaker Ri were to meet face to face, like some Sliders episode, I think they would both admire each other's ways of life, and I also think that both would be a little envious. Artist Ri would wish secretly for Homemaker Ri's stable routine, loving husband and energetic children. Homemaker Ri would sigh wistfully while contemplating Artist Ri's generous free time, unhindered muse, and spontaneous daily life. 

I think a little of Artist Ri could be incorporated into the lifestyle of Homemaker Ri. It's quite likely that instead of reading before bed Homemaker Ri could play around with a few stanzas of poetry. In lieu of the park, she could spend the afternoon working on a novel. However, she would never get the work done with the speed of Artist Ri, and she would never be able to produce nearly the volume of work as Artists Ri, though she strive for it all her days.

Still it is the idea of a family, a home and a life that caters to both that really warms my heart. Artist Ri is a fun fantasy, but I don't think she ever would have lived up to her potential. And artist Ri does not fill my heart with warm, golden feelings when I think about being her.

I think I'm satisfied with my decision to pursue Homemaker Ri, and let Artist Ri fade into the background of my fantasies. I call it a decision, because whether I knew it or not, the minute I got married, I waved goodbye to Artist Ri, or at least to her lifestyle, forever. 

So which would you choose? A life that caters to your talents and allows your muse free reign, but denies you the love of a spouse and children? Or a life that sees you well-rooted and well loved, with a solid home and family, that also restrains use of your talents to the moments you can catch between responsibilities? I have a feeling most of you would choose the former, at least those of you from the journaling community. However, having chosen the latter, I feel confident that I will be happy with my choice. Come busy schedules and dirty diapers, I will find pleasure in my chosen role in life.