Written @ 9:40 p.m. on 2007-10-30
A corner, a wall
So, I've either turned a corner, or I've hit a wall, or both.
When I was 10, I decided that I wanted to be a film director. I took acting lessons, I volunteered at a theater, I studied hard at school, I wrote, and drew, worked and saved my money for a video camera. Then I started making shorts. I was more driven than is probably healthy for a kid. I was driven to get to California, clear on the other side of the country from my small, upstate NY town. I was accepted into the best film school in the nation. I got there, and when I got there, I changed my mind. I definately DID NOT want to work in the film industry. Movies, like sausages, are better if you don't know how they are made.
Two years into film studies, I was deeply embroiled with my ex. I had a baby. I left school. I had another baby. I began to live in constant fear. My life became about my ex, surviving my ex,then surviving without my ex. I spent about 6 years doing that, and it nearly killed me on more than one occasion. I used that same driven spirit from my childhood to survive violence, poverty, and separation from my children.
Now, I've turned the corner. I have won primary physical custody. I have a home, a solid relationship, and two awesome, strong, healthy, kind and intelligent daughters. My ex is no longer a key player in my life. My life is, once again, MINE.
AT LAST! EUREKA! BEAUTIFUL!
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What the fuck do I do now?
I turned the corner-yay! and slam! Right into a brick wall.
I find myself jealous of anyone who has anything going for them. B. is making strides in his wrestling federation. More shows under their belts, more students, more invitations to wrestle in other towns. His shoulder is finally healed, and he is working out to regain the muscle he lost. I am terribly jealous of his conviction, his committment, and finally, his gains.
That's what I want to do. I want to be committed to a goal. I don't remember ever NOT being committed to a goal. I thought my new direction was going to be in tattooing, and we all saw that blow up in my face like a chinese firecracker.
I received this money, my work hours came to a halt, and all of a sudden I'm in a holding pattern...waiting. For...something.
I'm terrified that there may be no...something. I have heard of this happening to people. Finish school, have babies, settle...hit thirty, buy a minivan, and wait to die. I think Bruce Springsteen wrote some songs about these people. Am I these people? If I can't fight the ex, what can I do? I won the war. Now what?
I prayed on this last night, and I received a funny reply. "Build a dollhouse." So, today I bought a dollhouse kit, the kind that comes in flat wooden sheets to assemble and decorate. I spent the last couple of hours popping out pieces and painting shingles. I'm loving it so far. Maybe it will become something extraordinary. My new "thing". Maybe it is a distraction while I wait for my next move to reveal its self.
Do I go to school? Do I not? Do I write a book? If so, about what? Do I paint? Do I try to tattoo apprentice somewhere else? Do I get married? Do I have more babies? Do I join a cult? What? What is it that I DO?
Make a dollhouse.
So, we'll see.