Starting harder than ending?

Living the dream...

Or are we dreaming of living? Just something to think about.

Peter doesn't know this yet, but by the end of the day (we all have goals) I will have completed 20 single-spaced pages of that damned paper that has plagued me the past few months. Since--I have been working for a half dozen hours--a break is in order from all this writing, I thought I would post something on the blog. I've been missing for a while, I know, and probably will go missing again as the warm weather gets more consistent and my golf game gets more frustrating. For now, though, let's enjoy this time together and not look to the future. (I chose doing this over a nap, so read up good. Although, maybe I'll do both.)

Should I briefly reflect on the entire experience of driving one coast to another with a carload of someone else's things? Do you really want to read about how I'm feeling and what I thought over the course of two and a half weeks? No. Nor do I want to sit here and tell you what a fantastic time it was-- it was! Instead, I'm going use this space to talk about why I'm jealous of Peter Szabo.

Jealousy is not a common emotion for me. In fact, I'm just too stubborn for it. Most of the time, my competitive side deals with the green-headed Jealousy by saying, "F*** off, we got some catch up to do," and promptly hits her with his car. That's right, Jealousy is feminine and Competitive is masculine. Psychoanalyse it all you want. When Jealousy finds her way into my thoughts though, I pay attention, because Competitive must be off drinking and philandering somewhere to have let her by. He's so unreliable.

In this case, I spent almost a week living in Newport Beach, CA, apartment hunting, and eating well crafted foods-- adding a drink here and there when it was appropriate. None of this was my life. I was "helping" Peter live his, or, better said, I was tagging along on Peter's dream. But, ultimately, glad to do so.

The details of the apartment searching aren't important, but Peter knew that when he saw "it" he'd know. Nothing was farther from the truth, although I like his idealism. We visited more apartments in four days than Peter has pairs of designer jeans, and might I remind you, he loved shopping at National Jean in Newton, so that's a lot of pairs of slacks. It wasn't even the last apartment he looked at that he finally settled on. It was one he returned to and said, "There was something about this one, and this is the place I know I can live." I liked it because there was enough room for guest bed and couch, so I definitely had a place to stay when I'd be jobless and penniless in a few months.

To break from apartment searching there was the Dodgers game, the beach, clubbing in tight shirts, seafood, touring TMZ studios and visiting a friend of mine in "the industry", and adding alcohol to chocolatey drinks that were formally non-alcoholic. Oh yeah, then there was chocolate cake that weighed as much as, or fewer than, 15 pounds-- hard to tell without a scale.

I'm mentioning all of this not to wake up that Jealousy inside of you, but to bring together this whole trip and Peter's move. The jump from east to west was an extreme life choice. Most people said to Peter along the way, "I wish I had the guts to do something like that. But I just can't do it right now." Right now? So now isn't a good time? There's always a way to push off the life choice, the big leap, the 100 page paper waiting for you at home. It's no longer considered procrastination when you stop deciding to follow a dream just because "now" isn't the time. I consider it dreaming of living. Living the dream would look something more action-based, movement-oriented, conscious participation-ated. It would look something more like driving west out of Boston and ending up with your toes in the Pacific, but not for too long because the Pacific is still friggin cold this time of year.

Jealousy sprang up in me because despite the fact that I left Boston to live in Denver, refuse to take a job I'm not passionate about, talk about life after graduate school and all the "living" I will be doing this summer, I do believe that I have not been making those life decisions that led Peter west on 90. Maybe I'm not even thinking about the dream any more because it's overwhelming. The main question for me now is What will you do with your life? I answer it with an "I don't know, but I'm sure I'll figure it out." But it took me almost three months to start a paper that I had been looking forward to writing since I returned from teaching in Jamaica. Where's that psychoanalysis now? That's not procrastination. It's denying yourself the pleasure of the challenge of accomplishing a dream. My dream is to write-- even though it might not be evidenced by this blog, please no criticisms, hold your tongue for, like, five more minutes. I care about it enough for it to scare the life out of me, literally. Life gone because I can't accomplish the dream, but can't let it go. Stuck without movement in any direction. What good is that?

Peter took the big decision, made it real, and thanked everyone for helping him out along the way. Although I'll never say it to his face, I'm taking a lesson from Peter Szabo... cough, hack, hack, cough, spittle... I just vomited on the keyboard... Ok, pride overcome, but that's right Peter has taught me something by inviting me on this trip; some people are living the dream. He doesn't have everything figured out and it won't all be perfect, just like his apartment wasn't perfect when he saw it that first time. If that's what we're always looking for-- the perfect apartment, the perfect sign, the perfect moment (that's definitely not "now")-- then we'll waste a lot of time looking and have a lot less of it to get things done. Like with my paper, I wasted three months waiting for inspiration, and now, in three weeks, I have to pass in something I'm supposed to be proud of. Seems counterintuitive that it took so much time to get where I am now. What was I waiting for? Honestly, I still don't know, because it wasn't inspiration in the end that got me started. It was an email from a professor that said she was excited to read the rough draft soon. HA!!! Don't worry, I lied desperately to get out of it. That's honor.

That jealousy that I feel towards Peter comes from his excitement to be in the situation he's in. There was a lot of crap to be dealt with along the way-- me providing ample opportunities to remind Peter that there was a lot left to be done, didn't want him getting too comfortable with having made this decision. Mr. Szabo dealt with it and moved on, or is continuing to confront the challenges he faces head-on. What's so different about me?

I'm capable. The paper will get done (again, we all have goals). But more importantly, I'm sick of stalling. Being patient is one thing, but making excuses, not to drive cross country, or refusing to make whatever that tough choice is, comes from fear and is no virtue. Take a lesson from Peter, if necessary (and then take some aspirin because it's going to make you feel sick), and leap it out. I'm not moving anywhere big or special, not doing anything that will change the world, but I'll start with the smaller decisions. The paper was the first. The second is this, I've decided to say thanks, "Thank you, Peter, for a great trip and congratulations on your acceptance to the ranks of the foolish, aka, dreamers and optimistic fools." (God, the second one was tough.)

That perfect apartment, the perfect person,the perfect paper, the perfect time, may be here and now, but I'd never have recognized any of that if I wasn't walking towards it. Try meeting halfway. At least it's a start-- then, down 90 West and on to the Pacific.

Ok, phew, I think I earned my nap...