I was recounting memories with a friend of mine last night and said that there was a moment in my life where I could have chosen two different paths: Path A led to a freelancing life, wondering where my next paycheck was going to come from, part-time coffee maker, part-time Production Assistant...with the hope I can become a writer-director and moving up the ranks of the film industry. Path B led to a corporate job, adjacent to the film field filled with comfortable practical things such as health insurance and a steady paycheck.
In the end, I chose Path B. The cushy life.
And I will say, I have a pretty good life: a great committed boyfriend who loves the same things and activities as I do, two great corgis who think my bf and I are the best humans on Earth, a quirky apartment filled with any sort geeky technological toys that can fill up the day and a steady job with people I like to work with. So, life complete, right?
However, when I was talking to my friend, I indicated that nothing really sort of excites me anymore. The most exciting thing I ever felt about my life was when I was accepted to NYU Film School. I had so much hope, such big dreams and even bigger ambition. The possible potential of how far and how high I can go seemed endless. I loved college and if I could have a career in taking college classes, I would do that forever. Even more so, if money was no object in our society, I would take college classes for free.
But then society gets in the way of your hopes, dreams and potential. Well, the bigger query is: did society get in the way or did reality get in the way? If I had a scale, the weight of practical things outweigh the weight of passion. I suppose it depends on how you're built. I'm built for practicality I guess. I hate it though. I hate being practical and it haunts me to this day.
So the questions lies: does passion die? Did my passion die to become a filmmaker and make stories that mean something? Can I just be happy with my comfortable life? I can afford to travel to places for FUN dependent on my vacation time. I have a MiniCooper to look forward to in the coming months. I'm triathalon training. And yet, why do I still feel this emptiness from the inability of being able to do something I'm passionate about? What do people do when they can't pursue their passion? Where does the passion go?
A part of me wishes it dies so I can just be happy with my life. My great comfortable life. A life where I watch a movie trailer and instead of feeling sad that it's not MY trailer on that screen, I feel excited that a great movie is coming out. A life where talking and watching films are just enough for me.
I still have dreams of making a movie, of having a story to tell. Sometimes I wish that dream would die so I wouldn't have to write pathetic blog entries about what could've been and the life I've decided to live with.