should i stay, or should i go now?
*disclaimer: anything written/spoken/thought in tucson, az is subject to emotional inflation and can therefore not be used as evidence against the author.
i've asked myself this question before. and unfortunately the luxury of time is not something i possess. at the end of this week i will return to the flurry of life in houston, gas prices, I-10 traffic, a new apartment, and rent on said apartment. i get the strangest feeling an invisible man is sitting on my chest.
the story goes like this: i jumped into the abyss (texas) on the basis that i was maintaining my solidarity and that i could leave if my new reality failed to meet my needs. what did i find, but a magical wonderland of new faces, new ideas, new friends with absolute faith in my abilities and heret0fore hidden talents (hidden to me, i guess). i am invigorated, i am stimulated, i am on a straight and narrow path and i like it! then christmas....the most wonderful time of the year...this time around christmas brings devastatingly tempting gifts of a few days of no responsibility, parties, a birthday- my quarter century!, and sex. oh, the intoxicating effects of it all! i have left my bubble of a life back in texas, and upon returning i see the lone star state not so shiny as before...i feel a sudden sensation of heaviness, like in a moment i've been turned to stone, and then everything around me slows down and i get to see the fissures and flaws ordinarily glossed over by the pace of everyday life. then panic sets in; i'm immobile, statuesque in the least complimentary way, and the ground beneath me is turning to quicksand. somebody, help (mom!) before i'm swallowed up and silenced forever!
i am not so hopeless that i tread heavily through my everyday life; to the contrary, i jump in with both feet, arms up, eyes open. but this scenario is not new and therefore brings added weight due to the ever-growing list of what ifs and shall i/will i/can i's. as the pack mule of my own neuroses, i am the only one to blame for the load. i keep picking up useless baggage and emotional horse flies (boys). the carrot dangling before me is a little snow globe of a scene in london- down back hill in islington, a little place called drama centre. i stand in the cobblestone street before the doors wearing my wellies and wooly hat, camera and scripts in my bag, face beaming. underfoot i notice a very different scene. one 3,000 miles away, savings dwindling and creative output confined to dressing mannequins in athletic wear...they do look very good...but at what cost?
i write this from mom and dad's house (i'm not too proud to know when i need my mom) in the haze of a lunar eclipse, hormonal peaks and valleys, a flurry of engagements and other such rights of passage, and a ben and jerry's hangover (i'm also not too proud to go the ben and jerry's route occasionally). it sure feels safe and warm here- my biggest stress being my mother (she's really a soft cloud on a sunny day compared to the ominous thunderheads of rush hour and financial responsibility); i waver. i am teetering on the precipice of this next phase, the next seven months of 'everyday' life in a less than idyllic reality. and i choose to be here. i recognize that i am in control of my immediate situation- i could choose to quit my job and pack the car and drive home to tucson. OR i can learn to budget, move out on my own, put my head down and focus on that damn carrot! the consequences of the former far outweigh the latter in all areas, financial excepted.
the facts of the situation align perfectly in the universe's plan, but as a capricorn, i am prone to believing i have all the answers, and that sometimes even the universe is mistaken. and to expand on this astrological exposition of myself, i would like to state, in case the reader is unclear, that with a moon in gemini, one 'tends to react to situations with thinking, rather than direct action.' did i mention the 'tendency to be nervous and high-strung'? a wise man once told me, "chill out! sounds like someone needs a joint and a hot bath." i guess even the sages make mistakes, for, oh, the paranoia that marijuana brings. is there no relief?
but i believe there is. in writing. in sharing the absurdity of this mind with the invisible audience. in meditation, which, for obvious reasons can also seem like torture. and in action; in movement and expression...god bless the musicians and the yogis, for without them, we'd all (meaning me) be lost.
posted by Stacey @ 9:35 AM
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