As I was watching Tangled again last night, I felt pretty low.
Mainly it’s because dad told me what Bonita Friedericy told him at Farpoint last weekend: Zachary Levi never goes to conventions outside southern California.
That means I’ll never get to meet my beloved Chuck Bartowski at Farpoint next year. So I’m going to forget my lovely fan letter I’ve written him and remind myself that only the real stars I’d really kill to meet- Patrick Stump (Fall Out Boy), the band members of Reel Big Fish, Grace Potter, Orianthi, Jewel Staite from Joss Whedon’s Firefly/Serenity (I never got to shake her hand or get a signature), and now Zach Levi- are above all untouchable and unreachable. It really freaking hurts to know it and it’s killing me.
My biggest dream was to become a nerd/music journalist so I could actually meet these people and talk to them one on one. I even wrote down questions to ask Mr. Levi if I even if I even met him, but I guess that’s not happening.
I’m losing hope that my writing will get me anywhere. I haven’t talked to a huge band with a record deal yet and I haven’t been to and stayed at a local gig in almost two years. I’m patiently waiting for my editor to give me an assignment where I’m actually talking to someone and getting a full story out of it.
Plus, I need some income fast. The unveiling of the new web site isn’t until April and I’m afraid I can’t wait that long. The college loan people are beginning to breathe down my throat, after all. My three years of unemployment deferment are almost up and my 26th birthday is next year- meaning no more insurance.
What really hurts is that my best friend wants me to get a job in something other than writing, the same thing other than writing, the same thing my dad is telling me to do. Still, I’m terrified that I’ll be working there for the rest of my life, sucking up to managers, pushing paper, waking up and going to bed early, dealing with horrible co workers, and living the “dead” life. This is the life my parents go through because they didn’t finish college and aren’t living their dreams.
I never want that kind of life because it’s so boring and, well, dead. Sorry to say this, but having a boring desk job with a house and a family is now “The American Dream”.
Whatever happened to going places worthwhile? What happened to a life of adventure? Don’t people still want that?
No matter what I do, I feel like my dreams are being stabbed, but they refuse to die. Maybe I should just kill my dreams, just like I should have done when that evil Cylon woman from The Towerlight bashed me by email in 2008, then become a working robot like everyone else. Forget my dreams forever because it’s hurting my friends and family on the inside.
Then again, my dad’s good friends have heard about Shockwave magazine and my godfather Lance Woods just published his first novel at long last. At the Ten Forward party at Farpoint, he opened his 30-year-old bottle of brandy to celebrate. The brandy his ex girlfriend gave him when she said, “Don’t open this until you accomplish something big.”
That reminds me… Rapunzel could have cut off her hair at any moment, but Flynn Rider was the one who had to do it because she was going to sacrifice her freedom for his life. Flynn died for her freedom by cutting all of her hair while he was mortally wounded by the end of the film. He loved Rapunzel so much, he’d die for her, making him less of an arrogant, egotistical thief and more of a three dimensional and brave hero. -Sorry for the spoilers!
That maked me think that my friends, family and I need to support each other, and they might be supporting what I want in my future. Even my boyfriend said that no matter what, he would make things work for us. It’s all because he loves me. [Yes, Rachel, this is what love should feel like. I know you’ve been in weird situations and you haven’t been in a relationship in a long time, but he loves you and you love him! :)]
Thus, I leave you with a quote from one of my hand written poems, “Give It”:
“We will run away
into the sunset
to pure freedom
I’m still making my rope ladder.
Gotta keep giving.”