Wandering Paths

I just reread what I wrote a few months ago. There was so much hope in that post. I don't know what happened, but I diverged from that path somewhere along the way. Actually, I do know what happened. I fell for the guy I was dating, and he was a soulsucking blackhole. Decent enough guy really. Fabulous, truthfully, but he was a taker and I was a giver and I gave too much and lost sight of myself. It's funny how quickly that happens. How cliche I became. Emotions can cloud so much of your judgement, and my personal goals and life became a fog and I got lost in it.

Today is my last day of work. So it seems somehow appropriate that I update my post. Working for this Union Station Homeless Services has been eye-opening. I'm good at what I do. It's nice to know that. But, I also know that what I'm doing right now doesn't make me happy. I'm working for other people, living according to their expectations and schedules on their terms. And I'm SITTING all day long. I'm not a sitter and I don't want to work in front of a computer anymore. I'm done with spreadsheets and call lists and mail merges and an eight-hour relationship with my computer.

I want to work in an environment where I move about, where I interact with people, and have new and interesting stories to take home with me, not the office gossip acquired at the watercooler. Stories that will build in my mental archive. Stories I'll be able to share with others and incorporate into my own writing. I'm kind of obtuse on the idea front. Somewhere along the way I lost some of my imagination and became a pragmatist. But take someone else's experiences or adventures, and I can turn and twist it into something completely new and different. I have a knack for accenting and improving other people's writing, comedy bits (I play off others well), whatever, you name it. While it's annoying, it's also a gift, and I need to figure out how to use that gift to my advantage.

Driving home yesterday, I was so thankful to be where I am. Yes, I'm single again. Yes, as of tomorrow I'll have no job. Yes, I'm still neck deep in debt. Yes, I have to live with roommates at my age. And still I'm thankful. The base of these foothills are gorgeous and green and welcoming. The hikes are plentiful. My friends are dear. And the sun shines here, it shines and I get to see it everyday. And so I was listening to the "Oldies" station which isn't really an oldies station anymore, and I passed my favorite car on the planet: a 1939 Chevrolet truck 3100 series with whitewalled tires and woodslat running boards. It was royal blue and had hurricane windows, a symbol of automobile perfection. And suddenly, three possible articles came to mind. I could see them in my mind, how they'd start and to whom I could submit them. And I realized I can make this work. I can be an actor AND a writer AND an entrepreneur. This is going to work. I don't think I'll be in Los Angeles for many more years, but I'm here until I believe in myself enough to stand on two feet. Until I learn not to invest myself so deeply in someone else that I forget about myself. Until I know that I deserve better than being told I'm loved and allowing that person to get away with not acting on it (daily, hourly, every living second).

This weekend I may go to Mammoth Lakes or Sedona or just stay home and go to the beach. I'm not sure yet, but I'm feeling more hopeful now than I have since February just after writing that post. It hasn't been the greatest couple of months, but I wouldn't return the learning experiences for naive peacefulness. Somethings you just have to find out for yourself. Too bad we can't all be born wise. The nice thing about these past few months is whereas before I might have shied away from risk taking because the possibility of being hurt was too great, now I can say that I'd prefer to embrace the risk because even the hurt comes to an end.

Now, if I can just get ridiculously lucky and have someone pay me $5,000 a day!