It's rough. Being me, I mean. And by rough, I mean, that's how I perceive life. Up to this point I've lived what can best be described as a rollercoaster.
The past (nearly) two years have been no less of an example. I've gone from cop, to security guard, to unemployed, to college, to losing my car to repossession, to working on and off, to having a hard time finding a full time job that allows me to pursue that which I want to do.
Of course, there's the tricky part-- that which I want to do. I'd love to write. It's something I love, putting my voice on paper in as eloquent of a fashion as I can muster, creating new thoughts and ideas and putting them in black and white. Playing with grammar with the curiosity of a child with a Transformer toy, pretentiously forming rhetoric with some sort of imaginary wit.
And what do I want to do with it? Tell stories. Grandiose tales of fascinating characters, both fiction and real in nature. Wildly vivid divinations of exotic and foreign lands, full of unique smells, unusual flavors, and colorful sights. Animals of every shape and size, with different temperaments and survival methods to match.
I often state on Facebook and to my friends that I would love Anthony Bourdain’s job. Man, would I love that job. Of course, his background as a professional chef drives much of his content, as every episode has at least a few minutes dedicated to the local cuisine.
My background? Well, I’ve studied martial arts, been a police officer, danced, waited tables. I could somehow end up with a show that is equal parts manly and graceful, but I’m personally not quite sure that such a thing would work without being divided between three different networks and bastardized.
Then there’s that part. Being not sure. As much as my life’s been in the front row of the rollercoaster, my confidence has been yanked along, holding on to the back of the last car for dear life. It takes strength to break out of a bad routine, be it a bad relationship, lack of a good job, whatever. Logic would dictate that it’s easy. Emotions, on the other hand, would not.
So here I stand, starting up yet another attempt at this blog thing, hoping to create 2,000 words a day on the advice of Stephen King (general advice to any would-be writer), and at this point only making my way through about a fifth of that.
I understand that practice makes perfect. It’s easy to look back on how little I’ve actually practiced over the past x amount of months and realize, “Dammit, I’m lazy.” In fact, for me to be able to speak my mind in the manner that I’m presently doing so slightly astounds me.
I’d love to say that I’m nothing but lazy, but that’s a state, not an emotion. At my core, I’m full of doubts and worries. It’s not that I don’t know what I want; on the contrary, I know plenty of what I want. It’s just that I don’t think I’m worth any of it. I’m 28, no car, no full time job, living at home with dad and sister, with plenty of frustrations sitting in my heart and brain. Contradictory to that, I’ve had plenty of people around me show me that it’s not your situation, it’s your mindset, and since they’ve shown me rather than told me, I like to believe their actions warrant some merit.
The hardest part is the feeling of not knowing where to start. In order to get to my goals, I know I’m going to have to make a couple of sacrifices right off the bat, which is fine. Sometimes the difficulty is in knowing which sacrifices will pay off the most, or which will cause nothing more than stress.
I could give up my kung fu lessons, which I have held on to for more than six years. I fear that would close the door on my relationship with my sifu, who has been my mentor and guide through all my ups and downs in the time that I’ve been at the school. I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure he’d only stop talking to me if I pursued a path that was obviously wrong for me.
I could give up my social life, but being only half introverted, this wouldn’t be healthy for my psychology. I tried that in my time as an officer, to no avail.
I could give up sleeping at night, but I know (again from experience) that sleeping during the day is too much of a pain in the ass.
I could sacrifice money. Wait, I’m already doing that. Shit.
Options galore, and still very little clarity on moving forward. Here’s hoping I can finally do better sooner or later.
The obvious thing, the most important thing, is to set aside worries. To understand the here and now and let neither the future nor the past sink me into depression. To start new, to start fresh, to give today my all and fight for what’s important. If I go down, it’s always better to go down swinging, right?
