The Line
It was 2 years ago to the day that I left for LA. I remember it was a clear and mild Friday afternoon and the I-5 was empty. It was as if I was the only one on the road and that the stage was being set for me to alter history. Almost like being in the middle of one of those car commercials when all of downtown is empty or one of those morning after scenes in zombie movies sans the zombies. I looked in my rearview mirror, paused to remember the look of the mountains in the skyline and in my mind at least, I would never look back.
Every once in a while in life you get to surprise yourself. Finally leaving Vancouver was one of those moments for me. A bit like the last day of school and the feeling that leaves you sort of wandering in your own little daze. I thought to myself that back in Vancouver, people were carrying on with their lives, as I would have been on any other day. But this time was different. This time I was crossing that line.
People usually expect me to do this kind of thing. The line crossing thing. I seem like the type they say. I guess it didn’t help that for years after graduating high school I told everyone I knew that I was moving away from home, that I would be severing the cord or taking the plunge or whatever you want to call it. I used to bump into people I haven’t seen for a long time and they’d tell me that they thought I had moved to New York or Toronto or did the teaching thing in Asia. “Nope, still here” I’d say, “I’ll be gone next year”. But eventually I took my reasonable hat off and decided to make it happen.
When I finally got around to moving to LA, I figured something great would occur to me. LA was supposed to be my thing. At least that’s what people back home said, like I was destined to do great things in a city that provided sunny and glamorous conditions year-round. I had expected to find my calling, my key differentiator that I could harness to push my personal power to its potential, Tony Robbins style.
Flash forward to 2 years and here I am. The youthful optimism that once inspired me to cram all my possessions into my trunk and drive to LA attitude is gone. I’ve replaced it with the wonder twin team of uncertainty and doubt. These days I find myself questioning why I’m still here, and spend too much time bitching about being here. I know it has been wearing on Nat. The other day she sort of throttled me with a “you’ve been whining about this stuff since I’ve known you but you haven’t done anything about it” comment the other day. She was right. I wondered if it was that obvious?
It’s crossed my mind that perhaps I should just go home to my friends and family and all the things that were great about the life I left behind. But despite my shame, my pride won’t let me go. There is too much I haven’t done yet and I haven’t tried hard enough to right things. It’s odd because most people need motivation from something, some event that causes them to move forward, to make a change. Being complacent scares me. And not feeling motivated leaves a taste of uselessness in my mouth.
I owe it to myself to find that line again. And when I do, it may take me while to take the step but I fully intend to cross it.
Every once in a while in life you get to surprise yourself. Finally leaving Vancouver was one of those moments for me. A bit like the last day of school and the feeling that leaves you sort of wandering in your own little daze. I thought to myself that back in Vancouver, people were carrying on with their lives, as I would have been on any other day. But this time was different. This time I was crossing that line.
People usually expect me to do this kind of thing. The line crossing thing. I seem like the type they say. I guess it didn’t help that for years after graduating high school I told everyone I knew that I was moving away from home, that I would be severing the cord or taking the plunge or whatever you want to call it. I used to bump into people I haven’t seen for a long time and they’d tell me that they thought I had moved to New York or Toronto or did the teaching thing in Asia. “Nope, still here” I’d say, “I’ll be gone next year”. But eventually I took my reasonable hat off and decided to make it happen.
When I finally got around to moving to LA, I figured something great would occur to me. LA was supposed to be my thing. At least that’s what people back home said, like I was destined to do great things in a city that provided sunny and glamorous conditions year-round. I had expected to find my calling, my key differentiator that I could harness to push my personal power to its potential, Tony Robbins style.
Flash forward to 2 years and here I am. The youthful optimism that once inspired me to cram all my possessions into my trunk and drive to LA attitude is gone. I’ve replaced it with the wonder twin team of uncertainty and doubt. These days I find myself questioning why I’m still here, and spend too much time bitching about being here. I know it has been wearing on Nat. The other day she sort of throttled me with a “you’ve been whining about this stuff since I’ve known you but you haven’t done anything about it” comment the other day. She was right. I wondered if it was that obvious?
It’s crossed my mind that perhaps I should just go home to my friends and family and all the things that were great about the life I left behind. But despite my shame, my pride won’t let me go. There is too much I haven’t done yet and I haven’t tried hard enough to right things. It’s odd because most people need motivation from something, some event that causes them to move forward, to make a change. Being complacent scares me. And not feeling motivated leaves a taste of uselessness in my mouth.
I owe it to myself to find that line again. And when I do, it may take me while to take the step but I fully intend to cross it.