Enjoy.
What I really miss about my former life is going to the neighborhood café on Saturday mornings, picking up my latte, coming home, making toast, and then enjoying my little breakfast in its simple deliciousness, while sitting in my living room, on my cozy couch, and enjoying the quiet moments where I thought to myself, “this is life,” all in the comfort and safety of my own small, lovely, one bedroom apartment.
It’s been many months since I last experienced those moments of tranquility, of peace. Those moments, that too often I took for granted, have ceased. That couch has been sold, the apartment abandoned. All the days bleed together where Saturday mornings are no longer a joyous reward at the end of a long work week, just a day that I’d lose track of if not for the differences in L.A. traffic, or the amount of people at Target.
No, I never envisioned this when I started following my passion to be a writer and a filmmaker. I never imagined a life where an old, tiny couch in a cold, dark room would be a place I would now call home a couple weeks at a time, where given the neighborhood, every morning a part of me wonders if my car will still be outside and with all its parts still in place and unbroken. Cozy no longer exists, and the quiet simplicity of the mornings that I used to enjoy is now marred by police sirens, the barking of a small, undisciplined dog, and the homeowner’s frequent belching. What a lady.
I have film credits now. I have had great experiences with some filmmakers and I’ve been sorely cheated by others. And though I’ve worked, I haven’t seen a paycheck in months. An over-priced education and a considerable résumé has only brought me to a place of unanswered e-mails and inquiry letters. After all, it’s never been about what you know, but who knows you.
Unemployment has run out. My creditors now have their own ringtones.
Why would anyone do this? The answer is simple.
Their unrelenting hope and dream of success is bigger.
Or they’re a masochist.
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