Thank you for reading my blog.
Thank you for permeating me in ways that I don't label - to you or myself. In ways I don't realize. In ways that linger.
Thanks.
It's a funny thing...the written word.
I am told that I have a command of language. I am told that I write well. I am told I should leave the amateurs and go pro (as IF!). I'm very humbled by you that tell me these kind things.
Funny thing is....I don't read well.
I was struck today by the irony of my reading comprehension disorder juxtaposed with this (alleged) ability to write well. And all I could do was chuckle.
At first I was frustrated. Why can't I *get* this?! I'm a professional for God's sake! I'm sitting in a training class, studying legal documents, learning petroleum industry verbiage, and I just checked out. I had not the capacity to absorb any more information. So, le poof!, I daydreamed.
It's haunting for me to be on a college campus. I get both reminiscient and excited. I feel smart when I'm in a classroom. I'm not sure if I've ever blogged about my one regret in life which is not finishing college. I will do it. Someday I will. I promise. *
I've always been sad that I didn't have that fun collegiate time of life filled with rush, sorority life, drunkenness, loose behavior with boys, football games, basketball games, away from home, coming home for Spring Break, summer nanny jobs, all nighter study groups....you get the point. COLLEGE LIFE. I so longed for it, too. My dream was to go to University of Texas, Austin, and I actually was accepted. Prior to that, I had a full scholarship to the American Music and Drama Academy in NYC. The NYC gig was my DREAM COME TRUE. (Imagine how different my life would be?!)
So, due to parental constraints and financial limitations, coupled with general ignorance, I reluctantly attended the local college and grieved the loss of so many friendships, as well as the loss of any dream I had. Oh, and made such terrible grades that I was put on academic probation. Did I mention the hundreds of dollars of parking tickets because I was too lazy to park where I would (God forbid) have to walk!
Pretty sad really, but yet, necessary. Trust the process, right?
Since then, whenever I re-enroll to chip away at that psychology degree, my heart bleeds and cringes at the memory of not being able to go to college on my terms. My soul minimizes to that fear-filled eighteen year old who is bitter, resentful and sad, who longed to have adventure instead of the safety net of a sheltered military-brat lifestyle. Now when I walk on a campus, I return to eighteen-year-old Jackie and try to remember that I'm where I'm supposed to be. This is how it is for me. I accept that. Still, I can't make those feelings NOT come, and I hate that.
Today my training was on a college campus. During an afternoon break, I watched some guys practice soccer. I found myself escaping to twenty-something, without a serious (grown-up) care in the world. I found myself imagining what their lives must be like....so casual and slow, easy and breezy. They were probably most stressed about if their car is running to get them back and forth to school, their soccer game coming up, a test or paper due before long. They probably woke up around 10 a.m., ate a bowl of cereal while listening to music, kicked scattered clothes into a pile for laundry day. I had their lives all figured out in the five minutes of break I had from Farmouts, JOAs and DOIs.
In actuality, certainly they have more stress than I will ever know. But, you get the idea. Right?
I continue to daydream. I imagine my thin frame running around NYC with gay friends, eccentric friends, friends who are just as doe-eyed as me. I dream of studying scripts and blocking, choreography. Maybe at AMDA, I'll finally get voice lessons and learn to carry a tune. Dance would be a favorite, and if I could sing, surely I'd be in a musical. If not, well, I'd still make a good stage actress, getting overly made up. I'd have that struggling-starving artist experience of having to get paid by three jobs so I could hit audition after audition hoping today would be my day. I feel the anticipation of awaiting callbacks. I feel the sharpness of being the competitive lead, or relegated to understudy. I wonder if I'd get to see a lot of shows like RENT, or LION KING or CATS because someone I graduated with knows someone who knows someone. I wonder if I'd still be living there, disconnected from my real friends....living a life of snobbery and vanity. Would I be friends with David Letterman? Might I have been an extra in Sex In The City? Of course, I'd travel as much as I could.
Who knows?
But, yeah, I still dream about it. And I miss the life I never had.
All that big stuff was pent up in this frustrating moment of me realizing that in my new job, I have to read a lot of particular details in very boring documents. But these details actually interest me, and the documents are extremely challenging because not only is all new to me, it's also an exercise of my brain which I have not had to do since my college years. To attend is a struggle. To read the documents, comprehend them all, put them in context, analyze and then define what needs to be done to help a royalty owner, has become such a hurdle. I've been spoon-fed a process for almost seven years now. My study skills in college are horrible. So, today, reading all that stuff really frustrated me. And then I thought, 'how ironic that I can't comprehend what I read very well, but I am a writer.'
I'll get it. I am sure of that. It's not coming as quickly as I'd like it to, but my rationale keeps me grounded. This job will easily take six months to a year to train. I will be an expert someday. And someday equals hope. And you can't go wrong when you have hope.
Gratitude!
~me
* When re-reading the post, I realized this paragraph became ambiguous. Was I promising to graduate college or promising to blog about graduating college? hahahahaha. What I meant is: I will indeed graduate college someday....someday....someday.
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