Inspiration (And Jazz Hands)

I wanted to take a quick moment, and talk about inspiration, because when someone is in a position that I am, it helps a TON, not only to keep you going, but to occasionally give you a swift kick in the arse, motivation wise. I like me that swift kick, I've gotta say.

One of the most recent sources of inspiration, came from a rather unlikely (for me) place. I'd heard about the movie Julie and Julia when it first came out, and had originally planned on seeing it with my mother. I liked the premise, a girl in transit so to speak, working things out by taking on the awesome and daunting project, and how it proceeded to change her life. I also knew nothing about this there Julia Child lady, so I figured it would be a good view. My mother and I never got around to seeing it in theaters, due to conflicting schedules (but don't feel too bad, she got to see it with a friend) so it ended up being another movie on my list of 'stuff I really want to see but haven't gotten around to just yet'.

Luckily for me, it was one of the movies they were showing on our return flight home from Europe. And let me tell you, not only did I love the movie, but it was the only good thing about that damned flight. The health insurance company (which you may recall was flying us home early on an emergency basis because Ryan caught pneumonia in Amsterdam) failed to tell us that they didn't bother securing us two adjacent seats. On any of our flights. There were three in total, Amsterdam to Paris, Paris to Chicago, and Chicago to Vancouver. The worst was the ten hour flight.

I was dead exhausted from all of the stress and hell of the past few days, and emotionally spent. Ryan was still visibly ill, and although the doctor had given him the all-clear to fly, I was concerned about collapsing lungs and other stuff well-meaning family members had mentioned before our flight. So when we located our seats, and we were separated by both an aisle, and two people, I nearly lost my shiz and burst into tears right on the damn flight. The girl sitting beside me didn't want to trade seats with Ryan, she had a window seat, after all.

The flight was long, and boring, and stressful. At one point, I went to the bathroom, and sat on that little flight toilet, with cool wind blowing up my ass, and cried. Snot was running down my face along with tears, my hair was barely brushed, and my eyes were bloodshot. One word: HOT. I didn't even really know why I was crying, I was just tired, and spent, and stressed, and tired. So I get back to my seat, and decide that it's time to check out another movie, and lo and behold... Julie and Julia was on. Joy! This is the Jazz Hands part of the entry... JULIE AND JULIA! Jazz Hands!

Anyways, I watched. And I loved it. Following the 'character' (she's a real person, so I find it hard to use that description without any sort of quotation marks... or air quotes, for that matter) through her struggles, her emotional ups and downs, and through the conception of this plan, to cook through a ridiculously difficult cookbook and blog about it, was epic. To me, anyways. I realize some people reserve the word 'epic' for other things, but this one is mine and I choose to use it here! I felt like I knew her, like I was her, to a certain extent. And I thought, hey... there are other people like me. Not everyone has their shit together. This girl is smart, and funny, and she doesn't have her shit together (just yet... it comes, soon enough, of course) so I'm totally not alone.

I know it was probably arrogant of me to feel 'alone'. Like I was the only person with this struggle or something. But the majority of my close friends are 'University Educated', working on a Masters, employed in a 'proper career', or looking to start theirs with a shiny new degree. I was a smart kid in school, but missed a lot of high school due to being sick. When I was there, I was a top student. But being sick and being so behind all of the time has it's impact, and my grades slid. It closed a lot of doors to me, and at the time, I told myself I didn't care because University totally wasn't for me. I didn't pursue it after high school, but going to community college first, or anything. I just sort of floundered about, at first telling myself that I would work for a year and then go to photography school.

My parents didn't have any money for school, and I knew that. So I was never really motivated in that respect either. Here is where I differ from all of the crazy smart kids who do something about it, and get scholarships. Not me though, that would have been, in a word, smart! Of course, even if the grades had been there, my attendance record would have excluded me from any scholarships anyhow, but I digress.

It somehow ended up that I just kept working these jobs, and when one would become unbearable, I would take a new one. Eventually, I managed to snag myself a job that could become a 'Career' at a company that was fun, and vibrant, and different. And it did become somewhat of a career. I received two promotions within three years, and me and my fiance were in the position to enter the property race. We adopted two kittens from a rescue shelter, purchased a condo, and were living the 'normal' life. I was slowing becoming miserable in my daily life, however, as the job itself started to wear down on me.

I think this is something that happens to anyone 'not doing what they wanted to do'. To start, the job was great, but over time, it's shiny new status faded, and left behind unpleasant things that were previously disguised by the shiny and new. The company started making policy changes, a new CEO came on board, direction was changed, and the corporate atmosphere was doing a big fat about face. I was miserable, but in a well paying job, with a secure future. The company was never losing money, it was always 'in the black' so to speak, very profitable. Had always prided itself on 'ZERO JOBS LOST TO OUTSOURCING' and such, so we were totally safe, right?

Well we all know how that story ended. And the emotions that I went through - fully detailed on previous posts. But now, what to do with this opportunity? My life was a big fat question, that I could answer however I wanted to. That was exciting. It remained exciting for a long time. Now it's just gotten scary. I remind myself that if it's scary, I'm on the right track, and I'm pushing through it. I guess I'm self-realized enough, that I can finally say it, and put it out into the universe:

When I grow up, I want to be a photographer. *

I still hesitate when other people ask me what I want to do. I know what I want to do, but I'm afraid of their scorn, or their dismissal, or eye rolls. Them thinking that there are other, better people out there, that it's a bad thing to get into during 'this' economy, that it's a pipe dream, blah blah blah. And yeah, it is a bit of a pipe dream. But I'm a bit childish and immature in some of my personal beliefs, and I generally refuse to grow up. I still collect toys, love cartoons, Disneyland, the whole lot of it. And with that, comes my personal belief that just because we 'grow up', doesn't mean we have to give up on our dreams. In fact, forsaking your dreams in the name of practicality is such a sad concept. Somewhere along the way, someone beats us down and programs us to think that we can't have it, shouldn't want it, don't deserve it.

To them, I bite my thumb.... or just generally throw a giant 'Fuck You' their way.

So, essentially, this movie very much came at the right time for me. I'm going to secure myself a DVD copy, and whenever I'm feeling scared, or beaten-down, I'm going to pull it out, watch it again, and remind myself that awesome things, and 'nifty-ness' IS possible, I can have it, I'm going to reach out and grab it. Huzzah!

To Julie Powell, thank you so much. For being brave enough to share this journey, for being you, and for being kinda awesome. Also, my fiance has the same last name as you. So I figure we're practically related or something.


* I fully understand the ridiculous implications of a 26-year old using the phrase 'When I grow up'. But, I'm not 'growed up', damnit! As proof, I offer you this: I don't have a drivers liscence. A topic for another day, and one that causes my immediate and extended family no end of grief and dissappointment, for some reason.