So in the middle of the greatest economic collapse of my lifetime, I am trying to switch careers and become a writer. I'm in a workshop, I'm taking classes at UCLA, I've written a screenplay based on a short story I wrote in the spring and now I'm facing down a deadline for a fellowship.
I've managed to do all this while I've been separated from the parental units. It makes me wonder if I should have made the psychic break from them years earlier. The usual self-doubt is there but the fears of "Am I any good" aren't magnified by my parents incessant questioning of every single decision I make.
It works out because they didn't approve of my desire to be a writer. It isn't practical and is more often a low paying, if not, no paying kind of job. They figure that if you have a half a brain, you should use it to be a radiology technician or at the very least a nurse. If you show any kind of above average intelligence, then one should be an attorney or doctor. Period.
So, on the eve of this fellowship application that I should be wrapping up right this second, I'm taking a moment to write this post to let you know and to reaffirm it for myself, that there is no other option. To live, we must try for our dreams. There is no shame in failing. The shame is in failing to try. Even if your parents aren't behind you or if they are actively against you.
Sometimes, we have to be our own mother and father. Wish me luck.
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