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October 16, 2006
Monday Mourning/Ode to Olivia
I hate Mondays...Today is Friday-finally but i'm getting myself prepared for that day that i loathe.
Monday's remind me of all the things that went wrong with my life. I should be retired by now, or at least have a book deal or something which would mean that I lived up to my goal of not having to work a 9-5 for the rest of my life. Like Common said "i write for my life cuz I'm afraid of a day job." Anyway...it's too late for me. I already have one. Monday's are a sad reminder of this fact. Not that I'm not happy to have a job-especially in today's economy but man...I wish I had done things differently, and not taken my talent/passion for granted.
This is where my sister Olivia comes in. Loud, agressive, sometimes bossy, she's goes for what she wants without a second thought. She wants what she wants. She's been pursuing an acting career, for about 10 years now. When she started out, she wanted to model, but on her first "go-see", the agent told her, ever so sweetly that she should consider becoming a doctor. Ouch. 10 years later, she booked her first gig. It's funny because if anyone has insecurities it should be my sister-according to my mom, she had to work for whatever she wanted, where things just came easier to me. My sister just took a step out there, not knowing whether or not she was actually good at what she was doing. She just loved acting. The way that I love writing yet, trying to get published proved difficult so I gave up.
I call my sister from work quite often, bored out of my skull, and dissillusioned by the fact that I have to leave my warm bed, and give up lazy afternoons drinking bloody mary;s and enjoying life the way it's meant to be enjoyed, instead I have to be here-doing nothing. "I could be at home finishing my book, I say." She scoffs. I've been "finishing it" for 5 years.
"I think you need a workshop", my sister says. "You need contacts and feedback."
I don't have that kinda money." She sighed. "You either want to write or you don't.This is my passion. I can't go to my grave wondering what could have been without even trying."
Touche. She was referring to my dad, who just like me, was naturally gifted. He was a musician, he loved music. It was his passion, but he gave up when he was told there was no future in it. Someone may as well drove a stake through his heart. Although, his pride would never allow him to admit that he was discouraged. So, he came to Canada from the U.S. to pursue his "fallback," career, which was medicine. But in order to do that, he had to go to night school with a bunch of loud, obnoxious high school kids. He gave up because he was embarrassed to be the oldest one in his class and have to compete with ignorant kids that think they knew it all. So he gota fulltime job as an electronics salesman, and spent the rest of hisdays as a salesman. He was a damn good salesman,he made a decent living out of it, but he was unhappy. When he was diagnosed with stomach cancer five years ago, he told my sister that he was going to beat it-and then he was going to start over. He had so many things that he had to accomplish-the first thing he was going to do was go back to school and get the degree that he should have gotten so long ago. Nothing would stop him now-he realized how short life was and he was tired of being miserable and unhappy; not pursuing his dreams because of "they-say" vision.* It seemed his whole life he had been miserable and he knew his misery manifested itself into cancer. He just wanted a chane to be genuinely happy and make himself well..
Unfortunately, he passed away before he got the chance.
Olivia was there with him during those final days, and she says the one thing that she remembers is the regret he constantly expressed. For opportunities wasted, passions unfullfilled. She told me she refused to let my father die in vain, and that meant that she would have to continue to live her dreams until they were realized. No matter what.
I'm not unhappy, but I'm not "fulfilled" happy because I'm not a writer. I wake up every monday morning, caught up in the hustle and bustle of the city and travel to this job and think about how I'd rather be sitting in front of my computer, preferably in Hawaii, dreaming up characters and plots.Sometimes I feel I'll never get there because it seems so far away, but then I remember my sister. The skinny little girl with the bright red pop bottle glasses who used to get made fun of continuously. Now she's well on her way to becoming a star. She's my hero, and she's taught me to be fearless.
Well, that was cathartic. When I started to write this piece, I had no idea that it would end up being about this. I guess it's not such a bad thing to be bored at work...especially if I'm getting paid to pursue my passion. I'm just afraid of settling, and/or giving up on myself and sometimes when I sit here at work "killing time" instead of writing professionally, it feels that way.
I guess there's only one way to get rid of that feeling...I've got to keep writing. As long as I have a keyboard in front of me, whether it's at home or at work during my spare time, I'll keep writing. Even if no one but me likes my shit, I'll keep writing.
As long as there's blood in my veins, and heart that still beats, I'll keep writing.
Even if there's nobody reading-I'll keep writing.
Thanks Olivia for being my number one hype woman! I don't tell you enough-but I love you! We're almost there...
*They Say Vision is a song by recording artist Res, from the album, "How I Do." It's the perfect inspirational anthem for those of us who are guided by our own visions, and not what "they" say.
Posted by renee at October 16, 2006 9:39 AM