Refusing to give in to the foolishness of my heart.
I want my life back. Between my chronic fatigue & pain, ADD, & depression, I feel like it's impossible to catch up with where I (and everyone else) expect me to be.
28 and I still don't know what I want to major in / my career to be, which, though not uncommon, is incredibly frustrating as everyone passes me by. The truth is, I know what I want to do, I want to do Musical Theatre. So very very much, I love it more than anything. But... well, there are lots of "buts."
BUT it's hard to succeed as there are so many people wanting to perform, and very few (paying) jobs, it's just as much luck as work to get to where you can support yourself.
BUT cross-discipline training in voice, acting and dance is easier said than done, and takes up tons of time and money resources I don't have.
BUT you have to able to face rejection, consistently.
BUT my health is deteriorating to the point that I can't stand up for long periods of time without being in pain, so who am I to try for a career using my body?
BUT it's an immature, irresponsible, unrealistic, foolhardy dream that helps no one. It's selfish.
BUT trying to train, volunteer or practice my craft takes valuable time/energy away from my health, my finances, my household, my family, and any viable work source.
But... I still love theatre. So now I'm trying to find another way in, maybe through costuming, or being a dramaturg, or writing, or producing, or going to school for arts business...
...but I want to act. I miss becoming a character, creating this imaginary person and justifying their action to make them believable and empathetic, to give people the experience of live theatre. I miss singing, and dancing, I miss my body being my instrument of communication. But however much I dream, and however hard I work, my body, and the realistic limits of my life, are not going to add up to what I desire. So I should just get over and find something else to devote my life to before it's too late. But I grieve for my lost love. I go through periods of trying to accept my performance ineptitude and move on, but my heart always comes back.
I don't know what to do. Perhaps I'll get a degree for a job that I hate to make enough money to support my arts... however old I'll be by when that happens. And i my body is up to it after sitting in an office chair for a decade.
"What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?"
28 and I still don't know what I want to major in / my career to be, which, though not uncommon, is incredibly frustrating as everyone passes me by. The truth is, I know what I want to do, I want to do Musical Theatre. So very very much, I love it more than anything. But... well, there are lots of "buts."
BUT it's hard to succeed as there are so many people wanting to perform, and very few (paying) jobs, it's just as much luck as work to get to where you can support yourself.
BUT cross-discipline training in voice, acting and dance is easier said than done, and takes up tons of time and money resources I don't have.
BUT you have to able to face rejection, consistently.
BUT my health is deteriorating to the point that I can't stand up for long periods of time without being in pain, so who am I to try for a career using my body?
BUT it's an immature, irresponsible, unrealistic, foolhardy dream that helps no one. It's selfish.
BUT trying to train, volunteer or practice my craft takes valuable time/energy away from my health, my finances, my household, my family, and any viable work source.
But... I still love theatre. So now I'm trying to find another way in, maybe through costuming, or being a dramaturg, or writing, or producing, or going to school for arts business...
...but I want to act. I miss becoming a character, creating this imaginary person and justifying their action to make them believable and empathetic, to give people the experience of live theatre. I miss singing, and dancing, I miss my body being my instrument of communication. But however much I dream, and however hard I work, my body, and the realistic limits of my life, are not going to add up to what I desire. So I should just get over and find something else to devote my life to before it's too late. But I grieve for my lost love. I go through periods of trying to accept my performance ineptitude and move on, but my heart always comes back.
I don't know what to do. Perhaps I'll get a degree for a job that I hate to make enough money to support my arts... however old I'll be by when that happens. And i my body is up to it after sitting in an office chair for a decade.
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
like a heavy load.
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