Opportunity, Meet Change

DAY SEVENTY-THREE: The Pauper Tumbles with the Weeds

So I have taken a job.  A job shilling pizza pies to customers in the Loop.  A job that will pay my bills, force me to improv with humans on a daily basis, and could possibly prevent me from seeing my family come this holiday season.

And with that, I had a bit of a breakdown last week.  I was overwhelmed by a new position.  I was overwhelmed with the possibility of not spending my Christmas season with loved ones.  And I was overwhelmed with the idea that I will never supersede mediocrity.

I am essentially at the same place I was when I graduated from high school.  A little backstory, if you will allow.  When I graduated from high school, I had very little stakes in quitting my job at Bon-Ton (an east coast version of JCPenney's.)  If I had no income, I wasn't going to lose my home (thanks, Mom and Dad.)  If I had no income, I wasn't going to lose my car (thanks, Mom and Dad.)  If I had no income, I wasn't going to starve (thanks, Mom and Dad.)

But at 17, those responsibilities were figments of my imagination.  Instead, my reality was, if I have no income, I can't go to the movies (Revenge of the Sith came out that year!)  If I have no income, I can't drive around relentlessly with my friends while chatting about life.  If I have no income, I can't go to T.G.I. Friday's this Friday and get the the chocolate cheesecake swirl dessert (I settled for the side of fries.)

So I searched.  I searched for a job anywhere I could find it.  But with the legal age of serving alcohol in Frederick, Maryland being 18, my options of growth outside of Bon-Ton were limited.  I applied to non-alcoholic restaurants like IHOP and Waffle House.  I contemplated going back to my first job, Quizno's.  I searched high and low.  Until one day I applied to Carrabba's Italian Grill to be a hostess.  On the day of my interview, my (future) boss admitted that there were no hostess positions available, and that I was still too young to serve.  In a moment of sheer panic, I shouted at him, "I'll bus!"  He looked at this young white girl for a moment, and returned, "You want to bus?"  Knowing that I was only 17 for one more month, I nodded vigorously.  "I'll bus."

I finagled my way into a job.  A job I didn't want to do, but knew it would lead to better prospects once I turned 18.  And it did.  It was the job I returned to every summer and winter break from college.  It was the job that made my study abroad travel in Rome possible.  It was the job that meant I didn't need a job during college semesters.  It was the job I got my heartbroken in (multiple times).  It was my favorite job.

And now, here I am, a college graduate for more than four years, and I am in the same place I once was as a lowly high school graduate.  I'll admit to a feeling of shame when a class from Loyola's law school came into my section last night, and I proclaimed I studied undergrad there (and here I am now!  Serving you pizza.)  I admit that nearly every time I learn of someone's job (Marketing!  Designing!  Microbiology!) I cringe realizing where I am now.  And I admit that life feels especially hard right now.

But I had a conversation with my dad the other day.  **Please keep in mind that the person writing this blog once had an epiphany on a bus ride down Lake Shore Drive that she no longer wanted to be an actress because the idea of having an uncertain future scared the shit out of her.**  As I cried to my father over my current status, my inability to spend Christmas with my family, and my murky future; he said something to me that resonated.  He told me that right now, I need to let life take me.  I need to stop trying to make things happen and just let them happen.

It felt like a ruse.  I need to be in charge of my life decisions, Goddamnit!  I am, as Destiny's Child so proudly declared, an Independent Woman!  I am the master of my own destiny!  I cannot just sit back and watch what happens.  I need to take control.

That, in and of itself, is not a bad way of thinking.  However, there are moments - times - in your life that you have no control over.  I quit my job knowing the consequences of my decision.  But knowing the consequences and living them are two very different experiences.  It's difficult to relinquish control over your life.  But sometimes, for the sake of growing up, you must.

I may have steamrolled myself into a job in the summer of 2005, but my decision to leave my dead-end "stand behind a register and fold clothes" job left my possibilities wide open.  The thing about life is, you never know where it's going to take you.  And riding out the journey is the part where you grow the most.  It won't always be easy.  But if that were the case, you'd never change.  And if there's one thing I've learned from improv, it's that the transformations are the most fun to watch.

Set Your Phasers to Stun

DAY TWENTY-SIX: The Pauper's Belle Epoque

If we take a look at our lives, we can all probably figure out certain phases we went through.  No, I'm not referring to that weird phase where all you did was listen to Fuel.

I can't be certain this is Fuel.  But I can be certain that Wannabe Donnie Wahlberg's
facial hair just negated any orgasm I've ever had.

I'm talking about real genuine life phases.  If our lives were significant enough, I would be referring to these as "eras."  But as an adult in the midst of maturation (and thus starting to realize I'm not, in fact, the center of the universe, and my life holds little significance within said universe), I refuse to apply a word with such grandiose connotations to such a small meandering thought.

But enough with justifications!  Let's get to the point, Williams!

I was talking to a friend of mine last night who recently relocated from Chicago to New York City.  We were discussing the move and what she liked about New York versus Chicago and how she was adjusting to her new life.  And while trying to compare the two cities, she justified the importance of Chicago because she did so much growing up during such an essential time in that city, so it will always hold a special sort of significance.

That significance holds a fondness in her heart.  Regardless of the lows that complimented the highs of that phase of her life.  Is it because we have an innate tendency to let nostalgia tint our perspective on the past?  If that's the case, then I'd have any semblance of a desire to relive high school.

I do not.

But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate the hell out of my high school years.  I was a mess of a person.  But without being such a mess, I wouldn't have grown up to realize how ridiculous I was, and thus, moved away from the immaturity and cries for attention that birthed most of my problems.  It felt like the end of the world at the time, but now, it's rife with comedic potential.

Perhaps the mark of a completed life phase is this fondness.  A realization that everything within that phase has gotten you to where you are right now.  And the ability to blur the pain into the good so it becomes something you can live with.  For that, you have to be somewhat thankful of the shit you plowed through* to get here.

*Andy Dufresne picture omitted for redundancy.

And so I look back on my phases.  

My childhood: Carefree and healthy.  

My adolescence: Oh dear Ferg, thank the godless heavens that social media wasn't a thing back then.

My early twenties: A wandering cesspool of indecision, bad decisions, and lazer vision**.

**Lazer vision included for verbal synergy. 

And so where does that leave me now?  What phase of life am I entering?  How will I know when it's over?

For now, while I'm still optimistic. While I'm still at peace with my decisions. While I can still find the creative discoveries within the crevices of my brain flaps innervating, I will steal from the French. I call this my Belle Époque. A phase that couldn't be possible in my life without the drudgery of the others.  A phase that will have it's ups and downs.  A phase that will hopefully sprout some of the most personally and individually fulfilling moments of my life.  

Let's just hope that the end of my phase isn't the individual's equivalent of World War I, whatever that may be.

I have a feeling this guy knows.
I have a feeling this guy knows all too well.