it feels good to give up on my dreams. and by dreams i mean those that i've had for myself that aren't what i really want but are instead what i think i should want. for example, writing a one act play to try to get into a festival. i've written a couple of one acts before which i knew in advance would be produced because it was for a community group i was a part of. they were decent and packed the house every night and everything but really i'm not a playwright and i don't want to be a playwright but i thought i should try to be a playwright because i deep down am one and have just simply not been trying but really it's not my dream. it's a pretend dream. and that's exactly why it feels good to give up on it.
just like that time i swore i was going to be a massage therapist because there could be nothing else and i do want to help people. thankfully just before payment was due for the first batch of classes i realized all i wanted was to receive massage. sure maybe at 65 i'll become a massage therapist playwright but until then, screw them both.
these were trickier to realize as false dreams than the clearly delusional ones of having marcus schenkenberg's torso, starring on broadway in 1978 as annie, and the oprah begging to be a guest on my own talk show - the "everyone but oprah" show. as someone in his mid to early mid late early mid late mid mid thirties, i'm feeling added pressure to know who i am and what i want to do with my life. rather than fill in the blanks, i'm just going to leave the blanks be until they're not blank anymore. until i see through the blankness into a world of letters and numbers and circumstances that are my realized potential life. because if i force fill the blanks just to fill them just because i'm scared of blanks, then that will hide the eventual (hopefully not nightmarish) reality of what i really am here for.
hey, this would make a great character sketch for someone. maybe i should write that one act after all. no. no. no. incessantly no.
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