Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Dreams Become Reality
When I walked out of college, I knew exactly where my life was headed. I, of course, had planned it all out and didn’t think that the rumors of “the ugly world out there” were true. Having always been the big fish in a little pond, I refused to accept the cliché for the truth behind it. If I wanted something, I got it. The only thing I ever seemed to need was money. And really…snores to money.
Here was what I envisioned:
I graduate and move to Boston to get to know and fall in love with my first real boyfriend, Paul. We would find that being in love was grand and full of wonderful surprises. I would finally lose my virginity and I would curl up in the arms of a man that I had always hoped existed.
Once I knew our relationship was unbreakable, I would move to NYC, get a job, and settle into my new life. After about a year, probably less, I would begin auditioning, proving that I have the talent that everyone else claims to possess. It would be a slow process, but I would grow and learn about the theater world and I would eventually find myself in a position where I would give up my day job, make money as an actor, and steadily work towards winning my Oscar.
Once that was taken care of, Paul would move from Boston to NYC and we would set up in a beautiful, roach free, apartment; soon after we’d obviously be planning our wedding and talking kids…or dogs…whatever. My life would be on track and I would rid myself of that pesky depression that plagued me throughout my years in college. I would be healthy. And more importantly, I would be happy.
(Big Sigh) Just beautiful.
Here is how my life actually turned out:
Moving to Boston after college turned out to be bittersweet. I fell in love with the city, but realized that Paul and I were very angry and disappointed people. I had this nagging urge to get to NYC and start my theater career, because the ideal relationship I had imagined was clearly a figment of just that, my imagination. We fought all the time. It got physical on both of our parts and I blamed him for my unhappiness. I eventually realized that he was not the cause for my resistance to change. I wanted Paul, but I didn’t want Boston.
I moved to NYC.
Long story short…Although I moved to NYC, I lived in transit between Boston and Queens for about 2 years. The boxes I brought with me to my first apartment, back in 2001, were left unpacked for about 9 months. I slept in my bed with a sheet and I, once again, refused to believe that my dreams weren’t falling completely in line with my reality. I got a job and made a friend and for the next 4 years I began to struggle with my identity, my lack of motivation, my crumbling relationship, and the fact that yes, I am still a virgin at age 28.
(Big Sigh) So not beautiful…
And now…
I have limited NYC acting experience. I’ve been an integral part of some wonderful grassroots productions, but it’s not exactly the thing that’s going to propel me to success. The scariest thing that I’ve had to accept is the fact that I’m the only one that brings me to destiny’s door. Praying to God and wishing on that first star just don’t cut it in the real world. If you want it, you really have to make that decision and get it. Handouts – sadly I have to report – just don’t exist.
And I continue to struggle with my confidence, while waiting on the sidelines of life.
But (and this is where I try to remain positive)…
Maybe I won’t be on Broadway by 28 and married by 30. Maybe I won’t immediately become the big fish in the “A List Celebrity” pond. Maybe…that’s ok?
My (undying) optimism can only accept inevitable success. I will get married. I will be a legitimate actor. I will be…content.
If only I could learn to grow from obstacles, rather than consistently become stunted by them.
When I walked out of college, I knew exactly where my life was headed. I, of course, had planned it all out and didn’t think that the rumors of “the ugly world out there” were true. Having always been the big fish in a little pond, I refused to accept the cliché for the truth behind it. If I wanted something, I got it. The only thing I ever seemed to need was money. And really…snores to money.
Here was what I envisioned:
I graduate and move to Boston to get to know and fall in love with my first real boyfriend, Paul. We would find that being in love was grand and full of wonderful surprises. I would finally lose my virginity and I would curl up in the arms of a man that I had always hoped existed.
Once I knew our relationship was unbreakable, I would move to NYC, get a job, and settle into my new life. After about a year, probably less, I would begin auditioning, proving that I have the talent that everyone else claims to possess. It would be a slow process, but I would grow and learn about the theater world and I would eventually find myself in a position where I would give up my day job, make money as an actor, and steadily work towards winning my Oscar.
Once that was taken care of, Paul would move from Boston to NYC and we would set up in a beautiful, roach free, apartment; soon after we’d obviously be planning our wedding and talking kids…or dogs…whatever. My life would be on track and I would rid myself of that pesky depression that plagued me throughout my years in college. I would be healthy. And more importantly, I would be happy.
(Big Sigh) Just beautiful.
Here is how my life actually turned out:
Moving to Boston after college turned out to be bittersweet. I fell in love with the city, but realized that Paul and I were very angry and disappointed people. I had this nagging urge to get to NYC and start my theater career, because the ideal relationship I had imagined was clearly a figment of just that, my imagination. We fought all the time. It got physical on both of our parts and I blamed him for my unhappiness. I eventually realized that he was not the cause for my resistance to change. I wanted Paul, but I didn’t want Boston.
I moved to NYC.
Long story short…Although I moved to NYC, I lived in transit between Boston and Queens for about 2 years. The boxes I brought with me to my first apartment, back in 2001, were left unpacked for about 9 months. I slept in my bed with a sheet and I, once again, refused to believe that my dreams weren’t falling completely in line with my reality. I got a job and made a friend and for the next 4 years I began to struggle with my identity, my lack of motivation, my crumbling relationship, and the fact that yes, I am still a virgin at age 28.
(Big Sigh) So not beautiful…
And now…
I have limited NYC acting experience. I’ve been an integral part of some wonderful grassroots productions, but it’s not exactly the thing that’s going to propel me to success. The scariest thing that I’ve had to accept is the fact that I’m the only one that brings me to destiny’s door. Praying to God and wishing on that first star just don’t cut it in the real world. If you want it, you really have to make that decision and get it. Handouts – sadly I have to report – just don’t exist.
And I continue to struggle with my confidence, while waiting on the sidelines of life.
But (and this is where I try to remain positive)…
Maybe I won’t be on Broadway by 28 and married by 30. Maybe I won’t immediately become the big fish in the “A List Celebrity” pond. Maybe…that’s ok?
My (undying) optimism can only accept inevitable success. I will get married. I will be a legitimate actor. I will be…content.
If only I could learn to grow from obstacles, rather than consistently become stunted by them.
