This Old Life

Life is weird. The older I’ve gotten, the more I’ve discovered it’s just a series of trial and error, of making bad decisions over and over and over again until you learn what exactly what constitutes a good decision, and that the lines aren’t always clear.

I bought another pack of cigarettes. It had been a while, and boy did they get expensive. I guess I’m fortunate that I’ve never needed to quit, because I’ve never been addicted. But tonight I was feeling an especial need for that nostalgic feeling of being carefree and badass, a feeling that wasn’t so foreign to me all that long ago. The thought of it reminded me of everything I was doing only last year, before I lost it all; producing and directing my first ever short film, learning how to edit and color grade, doing fashion and headshot shoots, taking my yoga teacher certification training, training for USMC bootcamp, making weekly coding sessions with my ladies, seeing foreign films at indie theaters, going on a million Tinder dates till I finally met the Boy, writing songs and learning riffs on my new Strat, sometimes working three jobs in one day, doing a shit-ton of reading about filmmaking, writing, and business; and now, here I am again on my parents’ couch having spent the last few months failing to evade a pervasive sense of hopelessness I feared I might never shake.

Enter the cigarette.

So, suddenly, as I was driving home, it all came rushing back, the memories, all of it. I remembered how it felt to have things I cared about, and to be happy. Even though I was mostly alone, or bouncing from one friend group to another, I felt like I might actually be doing something with my life for the first time ever. And now that I remember it, I miss it. I miss it like hell. Why was I wanting so badly to run away from everything when my work here wasn’t done? I guess the staggering disappointment of one monumental failure on top of another was just too much for me. To add insult to injury, depression came in to slow me down, and anxiety kicked my legs out from under me. I was done for.

But it’s no longer just me anymore.

My selfishness has allowed me to fall off course and lose myself. I can’t allow that to happen again. This time, I have others to think about. My parents, my friends, the Boy; they need to see me finish what I started.

So, I’m definitely going back to school. Yep. In two weeks. It might be miserable, I might hate every second of it, but I could¬†fulfill my transfer requirements in 3 semesters and decide where to go and what to do after that happens. I’m still terrified I won’t make the grade on my assessments and have to take a remedial class (math was never my best friend), and I am nothing if not impatient. Still, I’d rather not kill myself with stress or with math. And so it begins. TWO WEEKS.

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To Leave or Not to Leave

This is the constant question I ask myself. Should I stay here? Is this where I am supposed to be? Is it time to move on to bigger, better things? I feel like such a traitor and a turncoat for having these thoughts, but it seems to be in my nature to wander. It’s half the reason I’m so attracted to airplanes. To fly is to get away, to go somewhere else, to escape. It’s also to explore, to adventure someplace new and learn new things about the world, to make new friends and meet people different than yourself.

I have tried, largely without success, to affirm my loyalty to certain places by forcing myself to remain there beyond what was comfortable. It was easy when I worked at Barnes & Noble; two years passed without ever feeling like two years. But eventually, that grew old too. Everything has an expiration date.

Now that I have turned in my notice at the yoga studio, the job which I will have held for eleven months, I feel no sadness. Is that the marker? If I left my other two jobs now, the sadness would outweigh the newfound freedom. That is the only way I know how to stay. But even then, am I missing the call to something greater? When I had planned to move to the Bay area to pursue a job in tech two years ago, even if it meant living in my car for a few months, was I wrong for staying? I ask myself the same thing today, while I am still here, tied to a job and a relationship, whether what I would sacrifice is not worth what I could gain. This question may always plague me.

Enough for today. Time to study math and code. Now enjoy some airplane pictures.