I sat here this morning wondering what I want to specialize in when I graduate. Funny thing is I’d probably tell you that this is what I want to do after graduating with a Bachelor in English – sit here and write this purge-y drivel – and that would definitely be accurate.
Because at the same time I write my papers for school and blog for my company, the whole time I’m doing it I’m aching to be writing some character that’s trapped inside my head. The character of Me, or maybe the one who represents who I am this week. Thanks Fall Out Boy, couldn't have said it better myself.
I don’t know, I guess I just want to be able to write run on sentences for a living, regardless if its for reality or fantasy, and have it not matter worth a damn because everyone who reads it understands my voice so if I just blabber on in one long strain it’s a no brainer that I simply haven’t taken a breath yet. Duh. My voice is from Boston after all. That first sentence here in this paragraph? Yeah, not so much a run on in Boston. Why? Because in my native tongue that’s probably, technically, only about 6 words; they get spoken really, really fast so they kind of all mash together. But when you type Word doesn’t recognize worthadamn as an actual word. I mean, what’s up with that?
Anyway, Matt and I were sitting here the other night and I was freaking out about not being able to make money right now and he had to fish-slap me and remind me that I’m in school, I graduate in a little over a year, and then is the right time to pursue the full time thing. I know he’s right, it just wigs me out not to be contributing financially right now. Especially where we’ve been looking to buy a house.
I love what I do all day – writing papers for school, reading, marketing, and creating little items that I list in my shop – just wish it could pay the bills ya know? I mean, If he were to go down in a tragic blimp accident I want to rest assured knowing I make enough to support myself. Well I don’t make anything but A’s right now. Good of course, but A’s don’t pay the mortgage, you dig?
So then he says to me “You know, you’re gonna get recruited the second you graduate right?” And I (completely unfamiliar with the concept) said “Whatchu talkin’ ‘bout Willis?” Him “Your school, they’re pretty likely going to want you on staff when you get your degree. You’re like in the top 2% of your class.”
And what immediately goes through my head? No, it wasn’t how cool that might be. It wasn’t anything to do with actually securing employment directly out of school (the former version of the American dream btw). Nope. What I think is:
“Seriously? I wonder if I really am only in the top 2%? Maybe I should work a little harder to hit that 1% or I won’t be up for...”
It doesn’t matter what came next, it’s all just my psychotic inner monologue and trust me, no one needs to be privy to that much crazy. Not even me but sadly not much I can do about that. But at any rate I kept thinking and eventually I got to the important stuff like the part where I could be working in a year.
So there I sat, outside, smoking my cigarette and baking in the kiln (aka our south facing patio in Arizona) when it hit me that hard work might actually pay off. My heart actually started pounding a little quicker with excitement.
But you all know what that means right? I mean you could script it by this point couldn’t you?
The next thing to go through my head is that I really need to start focusing on my novel again. Sigh. Can’t blame me I guess but I just started getting my company stuff rolling and I’m not so sure I want to split focus because I know there’s no way I can do two things in a full time capacity plus school. I tried it earlier this year and almost gave myself a nervous breakdown trying to manage it all.
So what to do? Full time faux, part time school and writing? I guess that’s possible. It’s the weekend now and here I am writing this purge-y drivel so why couldn’t I whip up a synopsis of my novel during the commercials of sports all weekend?
I don’t know why I don't just do it. Why I procrastinate by sitting here telling everyone why I shouldn't procrastinate. Hello? No one wrote a synopsis by telling people they were thinking they should just write their synopsis. I hate my head.
It’s probably fear right?
I fucking hate fear too. I get right to the edge and then talk myself out of jumping ALL THE TIME even though I see the stupid net, I’m also strapped to a bungee cord and there is a big thing that looks like a bouncy castle beneath it all. I’m well protected, I know it, but I still can’t fucking bring myself to leap.
But what am I even really afraid of? That's the question du jour isn't it? Is it putting my writing out there to be openly criticized? Is it nerves that no one will want to criticize it? Am I a-scared of potential success? Am I afraid I'll have nothing to obsess over anymore if I just get a fucking book deal and move on with my life? Am I nervous that I could actually do what I always told people was the thing I wanted to do…be rich and famous?
We were driving around a potential neighborhood yesterday and I just kept spewing off about how when I was a kid all I said was I wanted to be rich and famous. I kept on saying it as I grew up, and now that I’m old what the fuck am I doing? Certainly not taking steps to get there. Not by painting and doing finishing.
Because, while it is true that I could be rich and famous in a certain circle, that circle being the house painters and plasterers local 179 isn’t exactly what I had in mind as a kid. It isn’t what I had in mind 6 months ago. And if I open up my brutal honesty can of whoop ass all over myself it wasn’t what I had in mind 6 minutes ago either.
It must be in entertainment. Period.
I love to paint though, that’s the thing. There is a turn-off-my-bipolarity that happens when I’m painting or doing faux that is so unbelievably attractive that is probably the very reason I decided to pursue it in the first place. It is calming, soothing and satisfying to see labor and creativity come together in cohesion of something beautiful, it’s true.
But does that mean I have to do it full time, run the company that’s been taking a loss for the last 3 years and continue to beat my head against a wall? For what? So I can justify to all those judgy-wudgy bears out there what I do with my life? Why the fuck do I even care what anyone thinks? Aren't the only important people here me and Matt? And if he's telling me to just do it and I know deep down that I should...
And there is the real fear right? Not living up to my own level of necessary perfectionism to prove to the world how fucking brilliant I am.
Ugh. And this is why I fucking hate myself sometimes because I talk myself into and out of everything at the snap of my fingers. Still selling that dog off the meat truck, its just that the dog is what I can’t admit to myself I really want, the meat is me and the truck is my procrastination.
When I figure out how to make life work, decide how I can achieve what I want to be when I grow up, if I’ll ever actually allow myself to truly grow up and all that stupid crap, I’ll certainly let you know. Until then I’m heading off to have an existential crisis and a beer.
And fucking curse some more. Damn it.
"All my life I've been searching for something. Something never comes never leads to nothing. Nothing satisfys but I'm getting close. Closer to the prize at the end of the rope."
- Foo Fighters