Green Eyes
Nov. 28th, 2006 08:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jakebe
When I first mentioned moving to California to a friend, he put his hand on my shoulder and said "Watch out. You might have feelings of being inadequate. You might think that people are better than you." It surprised me because I didn't think he knew me that well, but it's advice that I've always remembered and have been trying hard to keep close to my chest for a long time.
The people here are amazing. Everyone is dedicated to something, everyone has a skill. That, or connections. That, or luck. And especially money. There's not a day that goes by that I don't learn something from someone; it's almost as if self-improvement has been bred into the culture. It's easy to get swept along in the current, to decide that maybe it's time that you were serious about all those hobbies and interests you'd get to one day. It's a lot easier to make that time be now.
Last night all of my inadequacies caught up to me. I'm 26 years old, now. I'm a college dropout. I know a little about a lot, but not a lot about anything. I'm good with people, even though they frighten and disappoint me, and I'm too introverted to deal with a solid wall of humanity for eight hours a day. I've considered myself a passable writer and actor, but when I look at people who are *actually* writing and acting, who have been doing so for over a decade, I realize how green I am. Even after all this time of playing at taking my craft seriously.
There's nothing marketable about me. I don't have any skills that employers want, besides being easily trainable and enthusiastic about work I can believe in. Typing? 65 wpm, at best. And that's from over ten years of hunting and pecking. I have a passing knowledge of Windows and its assorted suite of programs, but nowhere near enough to justify ten years of computer usage.
I feel so young, and I'm getting into that age where I probably shouldn't. Now is the time of the respectable wardrobe, the eye towards stock options and benefits, the furniture that will last you the rest of your life, the kitchen set you've always wanted, the settling down and growing roots somewhere. This is the time of the greybeard, where you gather up your experience so far and start building your life's work with it.
But what have I done? I've coasted with academia since tenth grade. I was considered gifted and talented back in my day. I felt like I could apply myself to anything I wanted, and then somewhere in high school I just went through this mental collapse that I've never recovered from. My thinking is muddy and slow. Any flashes of brilliance I occasionally experience feel like a gift from the ether; I have no idea where good poetic phrases come from. I couldn't tell you how something is crafted. I have inklings, but they're nebulous and shy away from probing.
It's not that I think I'm some unsalvageable doof. I know I can claw my way up to being someone knowledgeable and skilled if I really try. I know I can be a decent writer. But it's so late. I have the feeling I should have been doing this five years ago.
My life has been a pretty difficult one. I had to work through a lot of crap to get to the point I am. I can be proud of that, sure. But now I want to fulfill the promise of my childhood and I have no idea where to begin. I can't afford schooling. I'm over $24000 in debt from the two years of college I wasted. How can I be sure I wouldn't waste my college years on an even more unmarketable degree? The only thing I've ever wanted to do is work with words. I just don't know if I'm suited for anything else.
I could be a veterinarian, but that would put me in debt up to six figures and I'd be poor *and* overworked. I could be a social worker, a nurse, a counselor, a priest...but there you go, running into the same problem. I don't want to be rich, really I don't. I just want to be able to get clothes without holes in them that I buy myself. I want to be able to get new glasses when I need them, or to take care of my teeth without having to save for six months just to fill a damn cavity.
I'm tired of being poor and helpless. I want to be able to offer people something they can use. Where do I go from here?
The people here are amazing. Everyone is dedicated to something, everyone has a skill. That, or connections. That, or luck. And especially money. There's not a day that goes by that I don't learn something from someone; it's almost as if self-improvement has been bred into the culture. It's easy to get swept along in the current, to decide that maybe it's time that you were serious about all those hobbies and interests you'd get to one day. It's a lot easier to make that time be now.
Last night all of my inadequacies caught up to me. I'm 26 years old, now. I'm a college dropout. I know a little about a lot, but not a lot about anything. I'm good with people, even though they frighten and disappoint me, and I'm too introverted to deal with a solid wall of humanity for eight hours a day. I've considered myself a passable writer and actor, but when I look at people who are *actually* writing and acting, who have been doing so for over a decade, I realize how green I am. Even after all this time of playing at taking my craft seriously.
There's nothing marketable about me. I don't have any skills that employers want, besides being easily trainable and enthusiastic about work I can believe in. Typing? 65 wpm, at best. And that's from over ten years of hunting and pecking. I have a passing knowledge of Windows and its assorted suite of programs, but nowhere near enough to justify ten years of computer usage.
I feel so young, and I'm getting into that age where I probably shouldn't. Now is the time of the respectable wardrobe, the eye towards stock options and benefits, the furniture that will last you the rest of your life, the kitchen set you've always wanted, the settling down and growing roots somewhere. This is the time of the greybeard, where you gather up your experience so far and start building your life's work with it.
But what have I done? I've coasted with academia since tenth grade. I was considered gifted and talented back in my day. I felt like I could apply myself to anything I wanted, and then somewhere in high school I just went through this mental collapse that I've never recovered from. My thinking is muddy and slow. Any flashes of brilliance I occasionally experience feel like a gift from the ether; I have no idea where good poetic phrases come from. I couldn't tell you how something is crafted. I have inklings, but they're nebulous and shy away from probing.
It's not that I think I'm some unsalvageable doof. I know I can claw my way up to being someone knowledgeable and skilled if I really try. I know I can be a decent writer. But it's so late. I have the feeling I should have been doing this five years ago.
My life has been a pretty difficult one. I had to work through a lot of crap to get to the point I am. I can be proud of that, sure. But now I want to fulfill the promise of my childhood and I have no idea where to begin. I can't afford schooling. I'm over $24000 in debt from the two years of college I wasted. How can I be sure I wouldn't waste my college years on an even more unmarketable degree? The only thing I've ever wanted to do is work with words. I just don't know if I'm suited for anything else.
I could be a veterinarian, but that would put me in debt up to six figures and I'd be poor *and* overworked. I could be a social worker, a nurse, a counselor, a priest...but there you go, running into the same problem. I don't want to be rich, really I don't. I just want to be able to get clothes without holes in them that I buy myself. I want to be able to get new glasses when I need them, or to take care of my teeth without having to save for six months just to fill a damn cavity.
I'm tired of being poor and helpless. I want to be able to offer people something they can use. Where do I go from here?
