What February 24th Means To Me: Nothing To Say

It's weird how empty I've felt this week in regards to commentary.  I think I've spent more time staring at my blank screen than actually writing anything worthwhile.   It's certainly not "writer's block," because I'm not  constructing any sort of meaningful narrative. My inert state is probably due to a lack of anything noteworthy happening, combined with general stress that is temporariliy inhibiting my normal wandering thoughts.  It seems that my creativity thrives when my senses are overwhelmed by new experiences.  That's probably true for everyone. 

Lately, I've been frustrated.  But not in the "woe is me, please help me" kind of way.  I suppose it's hard to break old habits and "dreams," but I'm starting to come around to the idea.  When I first moved to Los Angeles back in 2003, I had a concrete set of dreams, goals, and priorities.  I felt I was a decent writer and, with some hard work, I could acheive screenwriting goals and see my movies made.  And, early in my career, I actually had some success that lead me to believe that, by the time I was my age now, I would be well on my way to having everything I thought I'd have.  When I was in my 20's, my 30's were this nebulous mix of, I don't know, maturity and cocktail parties.  I saw my 30's as this period of adulthood where I'd do "adult things."  I'd have a worthy job and an apartment or house filled with furniture and knick knacks that would stick around a while.  Probably some sort of wife, too. I'd only take part in intellectual conversation. I'd wear nice clothes.  But none of those things actually happened, so I'm left poking at my dinner while attempting to figure out both why it hasn't, and also why it shouldn't matter. 

When I first moved here, I recall wondering why entertainment industry veterans of 15+ years dropped "their dreams," to go back to law school, or move to Georgia to sell real estate.  I couldn't wrap my head around their decision because it seemed like it proved their past fifteen years had been some kind of waste.  But now I feel like I'm becoming one of them.  I notice my interests have broadened, and as I've changed as a person, I've discovered that I'm tying my self worth less to my career and more to life experience.  Eight years ago, going to Europe to pursue a masters degree in who gives a shit was a laughable idea, but now it seems oddly romantic, even though my age suggests that window of opportunity might be closed.  Like being the really old guy all the young kids snicker at in the club.  I'm not sure why I always look to age as some sort of barrier, but I've longed considered 40 as this age that's a point of no return.  Like if things don't happen by then, they never will. Or even if they did happen then, so what?  I'd be too old to fulfill any of those romantic ideals I once had, or have now.  I don't know why I think that, and I know it's also probably not true, but if I don't catch myself, I fall back into that line of thought.  I know people older than me roll their eyes if I call myself old, but I think it's hard for many people to TRULY grasp that they cannot reverse the aging process.  Seeing your mortality in the mirror is difficult when it's impossible to comprehend what the future actually holds. 

Hoepfully, one day soon, I'll figure out what my next move will be.  Actually, I'll put it differently: Hopefully, one day soon, I'll get the courage to go do something else that will give me further life experience, even if it doesn't make a ton of "financial sense," or whatever else we are taught equals success. 

Hmmm...

But, hey, at least Game Of Thrones is back soon!

I will take what is mine...with fire and blood!

Have a good weekend!