What would your ideal, average Tuesday look like? Not vacation Tuesday, but just the average Tuesday. What would you be doing? What would you not be doing?
Like many of my friends and former coworkers, I’m bobbing in waves of technological, workplace, and economic change. When you’re getting tossed around in that kind of churn of disruption and adaptation, it’s hard to grasp onto identity and direction.
Last week, I came across a post by Texoma artist Krystal Skinner. Krystal has a calm sense of achievement and identity that I envy — the good kind of envy, the aspirational kind. I found a lifeline in her recent Facebook post about her own thinking and growth process. In a message to her past self, she examines how her thoughts, actions, and intentions have contributed to her evolution as an artist. Uplifted by her introspection, I reached out, and she graciously let me repost her message.
Dear Past Me,
Keep making. Keep applying. Keep building. We’re already here.
I’m writing to you from a life that once felt like a distant dream but is now simply Tuesday. Right now, I’m sitting in our studio space—the one with the large windows that flood the room with that particular quality of morning light we always craved. The dogs are sprawled at my feet, tired from this morning’s walk through the property.
The work is real. Not someday work, not “when everything aligns” work, but the daily practice of making, selling, teaching, and building the artistic life we imagined. Yesterday I shipped 3 pieces to a collector in Portland. This afternoon I’m leading an online workshop—fifteen students from four different countries. Next month we leave for a residency in Portugal, and I’m already planning the installation pieces I want to explore there.
Some days we’re at residencies where I’m completely immersed in new work, surrounded by other artists, pushing into territories I didn’t know I could reach. Other days we’re here, on our land, in the quiet we retreat to between adventures.
The land—it’s real too. Not vast, but ours. Enough space for the dogs to run, for a proper studio, for gardens we’re still figuring out. It’s the anchor point between residencies, the place we return to that makes all the traveling possible. We’re not choosing between stability and adventure anymore. We built a life that holds both.
The first sale led to the second. The first teaching opportunity led to more. The first residency application we sent led to an acceptance, then another invitation, then a network of spaces that welcome us. What I want you to know is this: the life we want isn’t waiting for perfect conditions.
It’s waiting for us to step into it, imperfectly, immediately, with the dogs at our heels and our hands ready to make. The path between where you are and where I am isn’t long. It’s just intentional.
With love and paint under my fingernails,
Your Future Self
“G” by Krystal Skinner, 2022. Paper and watercolor.
“Past Me” and “Past You”
So going back to your ideal, average Tuesday, what’s your satisfied version of having “paint under [your] fingernails”? What did Past You want?
Past Me wanted to be an essayist who traveled the country in a 1941 Chevy truck, documenting my experiences. This was not a strategic vision; the vehicle choice was purely aesthetic. I was, and am, wistfully drawn to this truck style—that horizontal bar grille with its waterfall of vertical chrome slats, the fender-mounted sealed-beam headlights in their chrome bezels. It’s utilitarian, characterful, and likely unpredictable. Maybe I was going to journal while waiting for roadside service?
1941 Chevy truck. Photo credit to this seller in Oklahoma.
Past Me came close when I made a solo cross-country drive in my aunt’s 1970 VW Beetle. I was an intrepid and flexible college sophomore, camping in the folded-down back seat with Velcroed curtains for privacy. I journaled about antique carousels and crumbling amusement parks. That was the dream: the open road, the writing. Capturing moments with places that would soon disappear under the progress of masterplanned communities and HOA-approved beige.
Future Me is still waiting to see that carousel project (I recently rediscovered the journal). Future Me is poised to connect with Past Me’s love for writing and editing. My ideal “just Tuesday” starts with coffee and calisthenics before I begin guiding a client through their business content. Then I’ll walk the dogs on the prairie and wrap up by blogging in the courtyard at sunset. I think I can get there from here because I have agency. You have agency, too.
The path between where you are and where I am isn’t long. It’s just intentional.
Krystal Skinner
Agency: An Intentional Path
Agency is the capacity to act independently and make choices that shape your circumstances. We can’t control the upheaval, but we can control five minutes and whatever space we’re willing to clear for it. If your job has evaporated, if markets and technologies are reshaping everything anyway — why not harness that disruption to change your own trajectory? How will you use your agency to build toward your version of Krystal’s ‘distant dream’?
Between claiming time and clearing space, I’ve found a few practical activities that are building the Tuesdays I want.
The Five-Minute Rule
The five-minute rule is possibly the only reason my dishes cycle from the sink to the dishwasher and back to the cupboard. It’s a cognitive behavioral therapy technique, and the core principle is to commit to doing an unwanted task for just five minutes. After five minutes, you’re free to stop — but most people find that once they’ve started, momentum carries them forward.
While this rule is often deployed for overwhelming tasks (yes, my dishes overwhelm me…I’m a creative), you can activate it for your transition to your perfect, average Tuesday.
Did you want to learn to weld? Spend five minutes researching industrial arts classes at your local community colleges.
Do you love books and dining? Could you use your AI assistant to help pair your favorite reads with the ideal dining experience? In a few minutes a day, you’d have an outline. In a few weeks you’d have a collection…
The key insight is that action initiates motivation, not the other way around. You don’t need to feel motivated to start. The act of starting creates the motivation to continue.
Detail from “Emergence” by Krystal Skinner. The color in the 48”x48” piece represents abundance in Kystal’s approach to her prayer life.
Clearing a Path to Future You
By mid-September of 2025, I still stung from my marketing team’s winter layoff, and I certainly wasn’t alone. LinkedIn’s algorithm cheerfully surfaced a daily log of jobseeker distress. Thousands of qualified people across industries were stuck in the doldrums — becalmed by 2020’s overhiring correction, AI replacement uncertainty, and broader economic forces we couldn’t control.
I was sinking into the futility of the whole situation, becoming bad company for myself and worse company for others, when a member of my Toastmasters club gave a presentation on finding fulfillment later in one’s career. Sebastian based his summary and personal insights on the book “From Strength to Strength: Finding Success, Happiness, and Deep Purpose in the Second Half of Life” by Arthur C. Brooks.
This seven-minute presentation ticked through my mind and into the next day’s Tai Chi class. In the middle of the flow from Part Wild Horse’s Mane to White Crane Spreads Wings, I had a thought. An important thought about happiness and taking action: I would get rid of 10 percent of my stuff.
Ten percent was arbitrary, sounding more profound than one percent and more attainable than 25. There was no unit of measure assigned to the 10 percent. Ten percent by count? Square footage? Value? Weight? The vision of purposeful de-stuffing mattered more than the metric. I could do this. Past Me accumulated too much clutter that Future Me doesn’t want to look at. This was a thing I had the agency to do.
This was not a spectacular deluge of cleansing. It has been a slow, steady stream of selling, donating, and tossing. My husband commented that I was clearing away more of his stuff than mine, but I invoked the volume metric. His stuff is BIGGER. It just looks like more stuff (honestly, he wasn’t using that Rogue fitness equipment).
I’ve even reallocated the joy of finding and having an item. My sweet, tattered 1950s mail cart, discovered at a local auction, will be picked up this week by Peggy. It will live its next chapter as a display for Peggy’s vintage shows. She’s excited enough to drive 90 minutes to pick up the cart. I’m excited to find more vintage items to load in her car. No charge…just let it go and receive the happy vibes in return!
This act of clearing didn’t get me hired, but it gave me agency when everything else felt stuck. I stopped waiting and started building. I launched my content solutions company, aligning Past Me’s talents with Future Me’s vision. Now, Tuesdays are busy with networking, content innovations, and working sessions at local coffeeshops. And, of course, dog walks on the prairie.
Walking the dogs with my husband at sunset.
What Space Can You Actually Clear?
Environmental psychology research shows that physical clutter creates measurable cognitive load — your brain constantly processes visual stimuli and makes micro-decisions about what to ignore. Could that brain effort be rerouted to your ideal Tuesday? Can you clear even three square feet and designate it for Future You? What needs to leave to make room for what you want? Clear it out and replace it with your paints, recipes, laptop. Whatever serves Future You.
What Are You Building Toward?
A few weeks ago, I spent an entire morning writing about the symphony and imagining various composers as modern co-workers. Communing with my words, my synonyms and phrases and research, was exactly the morning Past Me was dreaming of.
I don’t know if these morning sessions can be monetized to pay for gas or buy Nylabones for the dogs. But staying stuck in the doldrums isn’t just professionally damaging — it’s corrosive. It seeps into how you treat yourself and drains the people who care about you. Building toward Tuesday — even an uncertain Tuesday — beats languishing in the doldrums.
Krystal says, “We’re not choosing between stability and adventure anymore.”
The adventure is here. The technological, economic, and cultural shifts causing today’s upheaval are the same shifts that make individual specialization — pursuing your actual interests — very viable. Whether you’re Building Forward (still employed, carving out future possibilities) or Building Back (laid off, creating new ground to stand on), make room for a vocation or an avocation that’s yours. Step into it, imperfectly, immediately. The path between where you are and what you can begin isn’t long. It’s just intentional.
Claim the five minutes. Clear the space. Build toward your ideal Tuesday.
“Shine Brightly” by Krystal Skinner
About Krystal Skinner
Krystal Skinner is a professional artist based in North Texas, working through Empty Canvas Creations. She creates interactive art installations that integrate textiles, metalwork, and mixed media—pieces designed for touch, exploration, and collective healing in healthcare settings, public spaces, and community gathering areas. She also facilitates creative workshops and collaborative art experiences. Learn more about her works and workshops at emptycanvascreations.com.
About Michelle Haynes
Michelle Haynes provides on-demand content support for B2B companies through Michelle Haynes Content Solutions, turning scattered notes and drafts into structured, usable content. She offers editing, collaborative writing, and ghostwriting for professionals who would rather walk their dogs than write articles.
michellehaynes.com