Wanderings

I was in Paris when I received the news that I would not be part of USC Writing for Screen and Television, Class of 2010, and therefore the news was somehow not so traumatizing. I booked myself a room in a nice but affordable hotel, showered for the first time in ages, put on a dress and make-up and jewelry and took myself on an all day date around the city. I went to all my favorite places and then some. I tried on scarves and rings and chatted with sales girls, and drank coffee by the Pantheon, and bought journals and art supplies to draw and read upstairs at Shakespeare and Co. I strolled along the Seine and watched all the colorful people go by. I thought about how now I had every possibility of life before me, how I could leave here, or Austin, or San Francisco, how I could get a dog or cat, and write, and create, buy funky clothes, explore, meander. I need to figure out how to bring the whimsical idealism of my soul together with the realism of the world, and still have it come out in a colorful way. 

Perhaps it's good that I am having a brief visit with my friend Courtney before heading home- she always gives me the law student, material-oriented view on things, and it's good to hear things like "Ok, Liz, but Betsy and Wetsy stories aren't actually going to make any money," from people who aren't my parents. I am definitely at a crossroads in terms of how I plan for the future and relate to the world, and hopefully I can trust those who show up to guide me. The problem is that I am a Pisces, idealist, and only child all at the same time. Even I get frustrated with how fantasy-oriented I am... and after the past three months in which I did not magically encounter and fall in love with the man of my dreams, and all the film-school based dreams were shattered with one e-mail, and during which I got increasingly disenchanted with the fact that I was wandering, and it was beautiful and exciting but had no particular purpose, and it wasn't even something I had truly earned, anyway, after those three months I am happy to take the advice of someone like Courtney, even if it is advocating working in an advertising office, or something of the sort. 

I want to do art and speak my truth but I don't want to be struggling in order to do so my entire life. I want to see as much of the world as possible, but I also want to be grounded in one place. I want- yes- to be seen and entertain and perform, to act out the scenarios I envision in my head and then some. But I don't want to sell my soul to Los Angeles, I don't want to compromise the precarious self-confidence it's taken so long to build. Humph! Most of all, I want to write, I want my stories to bring joy to people, make them laugh. I want to sing my songs, I want to make music videos. I want to be old and gray and say, "I'm satisfied with what I've done, I tried my hardest, I went for my dreams and made them happen." But I just turned twenty-four and the impatience that pushes me forward also trips me up, causing me to panic, doubt myself, go in circles. If I were to really surrender and actually believe the philosophy I tout so often, that none of this really matters, that nothing "I" say is anything new, that everyone is an artist and no one should be upheld over anyone else, well, then maybe I could relax. People like dear old Courtney here make fun of me for shaving my head, but the result was that I was the happiest, or rather, the most content I ever had been. Because I had no expectations. I had a general idea of the feeling I wanted the summer to have, and it came from my soul, and that summer was that feeling and so much more. The feeling was the seed, and then it blossomed. 

Anyway. It's clearly time to surrender again. To surrender every day. To let the dreams simmer and not dwell upon them, and let the Universe or the Tao, or the great whatever do its work, and sit back and breathe deeply and enjoy the ride. It's suddenly moving very quickly, and I want to make the most of what I've been given.