A Long Wait

A long wait.

When you’re young you have time to wait. What makes that tricky is that waiting has never come easy. It’s hard to wait. To be patient. To know something is coming and have no power to make it come faster. Instead, like every human before you, and every human after you, there’s no alternative to going around or behind a day, only through. Then through tomorrow. And through the day after tomorrow too.

Earlier this year, in April, I took the first step to traveling for as much as I could, to as many places as I could, for the remainder of the year. I even made an outline. Central/South America through the summer. Europe in the fall, a country in Africa for December. Why not Botswana? Or Nigeria? Return home for the holidays and leave for Korea in January of 2022.

To some, this idea may seem ridiculous. But if there’s anything you should know about me if you’ve been reading this blog for the last few months, is that I consider an idea like this very possible. It would be a life lived on the margins, but a life lived nonetheless.

I was four and a half months into this idea when two significant realizations happened. The first was that I was very tired. Traveling becomes exhausting. To constantly reintroduce yourself, to always need to figure out where something is/how to get something done, and to be attached to no real structure outside the one you create. The second was that I did not want to live this life. Of course, I wanted to travel, and despite the negatives, I just listed, of course, one should still go, but I did not want my life/year to consist of constant movement. Both figuratively, and literally. I realized I wanted to travel slower, and differently. I want to spend a fall in Budapest because I’m writing my new book, shooting a movie, or going to visit a real friend. I did not want to spend a fall in Budapest eating microwave noodles, moving from one hostel to the next, and meeting a group of people I liked one day before I had to reintroduce myself to a new group the next.

LA palm trees

So, I decided that a few things must happen. The first being, I needed to return home. I needed to save money and plot my next steps. During this time, an offer came up to move to Atlanta for a new job. Solomøn from two years ago would’ve probably accepted that offer and moved to Atlanta. Welcomes the new experience and figures the rest out once the plane lands. But I had no sustained/real interest in doing that this time around. I know, at least in part, how that road goes. For better and for worse.

The second thing that must happen, is that I needed to become serious. If I am to move back to Los Angeles, I must be prepared. To do so unprepared results in being gobbled up and spit out. As I found out. And as any family member’s face will tell you when you tell them you’re going to move to LA to become a professional writer. This time, I need more scripts. Better ones. Polished ones. My writing needs to become better. I need to read more. I need to study more. Everything about what it is I am trying to pursue needs to become professional.

And so I moved home. And now I’m in the wait. A long wait, but one that promises something better in 4, 5, 6, maybe even 7 months. Except, perhaps it’s wrong to call it that. Since waiting is what I did last time. Waiting is writing only one hour-long pilot script in 7 months. The results of which are stated above. Meeting however is very different. To meet a day with preparation provides a different outcome. It must. A long meet doesn’t have the same ring to it though, does it?

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