I have several things on my mind today. Where to begin?
Well, the obvious place to start would be to say that today is my last day here at the conglomeration of half-companies I've been working for. Phew. I can stop looking over my shoulder at the men in trench coats who've been constantly underfoot....looking at my mail...wondering why I drive such a nice, shiny car.
Which brings me to my next topic: Dance. I love to dance (name that flick). Last night marked the end of So You Think You Can Dance and thus, the end of my life in The Know. You see, this is the only TV show I watch and it makes me feel slightly part of something. I have no desire to watch anything else (that episode of King of Queens Laura and I caught the other night was, um, dirty) and as a result of my zealous following of it this season, I have no desire to do anything except dance anymore.
What I don't understand is why I never feel free to go live some crazy dream. I mean, my friend Rachel moved to Seattle to make it as a dancer, and rather than the cliched scene playing out—you know, the one where she gets taken advantage of by some pimp-like manager and becomes heavily involved in drugs, sex, booze, and the deceiving lure of fame and has to reach rock bottom before she realizes who she is and starts to rebuild her life and climb to the top the right way ( I said I don't watch TV...That says nothing about abstaining from movies)—In her case, it's actually working. She dances, waits tables, and yeah. That's it. Awesome.
If anyone can tell me why I don't do the same things, please enlighten me. I don't even have a 401K. Or kids. I should be free. And if somebody comments that you need talent to do those things, I'll punch you in the face. What I lack in talent I make up for in style, and you know it. (Again, name that flick. HINT: It's the same flick! YES!). Besides, dancing is merely one of my million fits of passion.
Okay, I digress. Actually, this whole thing is one big digress. Maybe that's how I feel about these dreams I have—Pursuing them seems like digressing from life, not real life itself. Maybe to really achieve something you fantasize about you have to stop fantasizing about it and actually commit to it indefinitely. So what is real life then, if not what you dream about? Is it 40 hours a week in an office? Is it long periods of drought interspersed with quick, intense relationships? Is it singles wards? Is it balancing budgets, cleaning houses and daydreaming about singing in a band? I'm not so sure it is. Maybe once I figure that out I can finally be content with what I've chosen. In The Truman Show they call it the Superman complex—Thinking you're somehow special and made for something bigger than the mundane, higher than the dregs of life. I wonder if I'll ever stop feeling that way.
If I were to write a book, would you buy it? Maybe if I got enough people to promise me they'd buy it before I even write it I'd have the motivation I need. I could write enough blogs, emails, poems, and journal entries to fill a novel but once it has to have a beginning and an end and a meaning and it has to move people, I chicken out. Moving me doesn't count...at least not to publishers. I think there are probably 5 of you reading this at some point. Illustrating perfectly my point—I write for me mostly but others secretly more. But to actually print something with the intent that others read it—And pay to read it!—is like coming right out and declaring "I have something important to say and I want you to know and I want you to like it and you'll break my heart if you don't." Imagine giving birth to something you love—something you don't have to explain yourself to, something that represents everything you go through, everything you feel and want and fear, and you hand it over to somebody or millions of somebodies and you ask them to love it too. I can't stand the thought that they won't. The first critic who slams it would be the first to silence my voice and stop me from producing anything else for people to kill.
And there it is. The reason I don't do the things I love.
I kind of apologize if you've read this far and are now depressed. I'm also pretty curious if anybody feels this way sometimes.
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9 comments:
I promise you I will read your book shall you publish one. While I can't explain why you don't follow your dreams...mostly because I'm in the same boat and can't explain it myself, I do think that if you put that much of yourself into something you will touch at least one person...and sometimes that needs to be enough.
I've never known you to care so much about what others think. You really do like cats, don't you. Even if think you haven't followed your dreams, you'll figure out some day that you have.
I just have to say that as I was reading that last (longer) paragraph, I was saying to myself, "yes! yes! I totally know what she means!" Don't know if that helps or not, but you're not alone.
Hi Stef,
Its Bruce, yeah the Bruce who married your best friend. Well, I read your "half life" post but wasn't really able to follow it. So I just wanted to say hi. Hi.
Carry on.
This is the Natty...I liked Bruce's comment...I think Ryan might say that if he read this. Ironically, I've been thinking this week, "what is it that I really want to do with my life?" Unlike you with many passions and dreams, I like things but have never really dreamt of them, excepting that life is the responsibility that make us live for the weekends. Not because i dislike all of the things I do, but I still can't answer the question of what I want to do when I grow up. Look likes this is the longest comment ever and I should probably have posted it on my ridiculous, non-updated blog. I am excited for your new adventure and am on the hot pursuit of finding you a man...do you date doctors or PA's
Well, I followed my dream and then real life reached out and slapped me in the face. But I'm still glad I did what I did because I love it. So here's my take: Real life is not whatever it is you dream about, but life dreams do serve to enrich real life. That being said, I also believe that we shape our own lives, and desires like this do play a role in that shaping. So there you go!
And for the record, I like reading everything else you write, and so I am sure I would love to read your book. I might even pay for it. Love ya!
Well, I followed my dream and then real life reached out and slapped me in the face. But I'm still glad I did what I did because I love it. So here's my take: Real life is not whatever it is you dream about, but life dreams do serve to enrich real life. That being said, I also believe that we shape our own lives, and desires like this do play a role in that shaping. So there you go!
And for the record, I like reading everything else you write, and so I am sure I would love to read your book. I might even pay for it. Love ya!
Whoops, didn't mean to post twice. Stupid internet class...
It depends on what the book is about. But, I'd probably read it anyway; I'm running out of books to read, and plus, it would be by my famous aunt (because you're practically famous once you publish a book). So you can put me on that list of people who are going to buy and read your book. Is it coming out anytime soon? PS This is from Allie
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