After staring at my ceiling for a few hours, while I reflected on what's happened to me and my life the past three years, I decided to get up and just write about it, perhaps get some outside input to help me figure things out. Normally I'd care about how long a post of mine will be, but this morning, I honestly don't care. However long this post is, is how long it is.
In a time I like to call the "Early Seattle Days"...
I'd always been a good looking kid, and after learning I had the ability to sing, I stumbled headfirst into a leading role for a musical during Eighth Grade. Memorizing lines and rehearsing as one of the only guys in the cast was extremely fun and pulling off the show was one of the most gratifying moments of my life. At this point in my life, I had a set goal all of a sudden and it was ringing crystal clear in the back of my mind; I wanted to become an actor. The spotlight has always been where I've felt comfortable for some reason, standing up in front of a large group of people and just talking, as if I was going into a monologue about nothing. Improvisation was my favorite aspect of Theater, and mixing it with singing a'la Wayne Brady from that one game show with Drew Carry, was a fun game I used to do as a freshman. Everything felt right in my life. Nothing else mattered to me except acting, and maybe one or two crushes I had at the time.
I loved it so much that my grades began to decline sharply. My parents have always been somewhat strict when it comes to grades, and when my mother learned that I had begun failing a few classes (English and Math), she pulled me from my acting class and my choir group. Then decided that she needed to find herself by moving across the country to Florida. My sister, who was young and didn't have friends that she grew up with for twelve years, didn't mind. It was exciting for her. At first I was excited by the move. I mean, come on, Disney World was going to be my neighbor, along with actual beaches! Once I got there, I realized that everything was different. No friends. New school. Asthma that was strangling me because of the blistering humidity. The only plus was I talked my mom into letting me join the theater class, with the promise I wouldn't let my grades slip.
Of course, my grades slip again. I'll always remember how my English teacher sat me down, one time after class, and told me that I really had to begin studying on how to make my writing better. Apparently it had no emotion, errors all over the place, and I couldn't argue my way out of a shrubbery. Basically, my writing completely stunk.
Don't even get me started on Geometry.
So there I am, in the same position I was in Seattle, only this time in Florida and with new friends. I was a sophomore, and I had earned the leading role in the Senior musical at the end of the year, where I was slated to kiss two of the most popular girls in the school. Of course, my grades dipped too low and my mom pulled me from the class and the play, two months from the show.
About four months later, we clash words heatedly, with me finally ending it while stomping up to my room shouting down the stairs for her to #$@$ off. The next day I was on a plane with one bag, which is all she allowed, and I moved in with my father.
Ever since moving to Seattle, I've lost my passion for acting because I've lost the motivation to do anything. I know it's a lame excuse but it's all I've got and for some reason I can't snap out of it. My English teacher lecturing me about how horrible my writing was and how I was lucky to have passed the class (which, in retrospect, was a completely unnecessary thing of her to do) scared me from writing, which in turn completely dulled my love for reading. The only thing that happened to me that I'll probably look back on and smiling at is meeting a girl who's actually stayed with me during these three years and helped me rebound after many attempts at getting back into the system.
So, after many failed attempts, I began writing blogs. I realized how much I enjoyed writing and how much I enjoyed telling random stories. I could relate it with acting. I could relate it with singing (poetry). It was a great form of release that I needed and it allowed Sarah to focus more on School while I just sort of ranted to my hearts content. After two years of doing absolutely nothing, aside from dropping out of High School and wasting all of my time in front of a computer, I finally realized I needed to get my GED and look into college.
I literally walked in, sat down, and aced all five portions of the GED in one sitting. Maybe the proudest moment of my life besides that first play.
I moved in with my mom, so I could be there for my sister and so she could pay for my college, which she gladly supported. She seemed to be a completely different person than the one I'd left in Florida. After getting accepted, I started Summer courses, and ran into a wall. After that semester, I realized that maybe the whole school scene isn't for me. But the one thing I gleamed from it was that I did possess an ability for writing, which finally broke me from the negative lecture that Tenth Grade teacher gave me. English was the only class I passed. I promptly moved back to Seattle, which happened maybe a month ago, and while trying to figure out where to take my life, besides working behind a fryer or a counter, I very simply began to write.
While in the back of my mind I have this sensation that I just made one of those bone-headed errors that young people make, by walking away from college because it didn't feel right, I've also realized that perhaps I wasn't meant to be an actor. Hell, I honestly doubt I'll become a writer, but for once since my early Sophomore days I finally feel as though I have something to hold onto. Something I can chisel away at and hopefully one day turn into a beautiful work of art. Perhaps one day, stand in a book store, holding something I've poured my time and love into. If this was the price to pay for making an 'error', then perhaps it was worth it. It really does feel good to read again.
Why share this? Well, I want advice on what I should do next. Currently I'm looking for a job so I can help pay rent and put food on the table, and write at night... but, something just doesn't feel right. While I have a fairly solid plan, to get my life started at least, this past week I've suffered some of the worst insomnia ever. I feel somewhat depressed, but only on the inside. I have no insurance, damn near no money, and I'm fortunate I have a roof over my head with a functional computer that I can write on. It just feels like there is so much to be done, so much to do after stunting myself for three years, and the pressure is overwhelming. It really does feel that this time, if I fail, it's pretty much over.
(Sorry for the overly long post that's all over the place emotionally, but I really just needed to write and I didn't want to share this on my blog... I also apologize for the horrendous punctuation and grammar that I'm simply to tired to edit.. not sleeping is starting to have effects on my brain.)
