something to fight for

Jessica and I hung out for a little bit after work, the last hangout time we’ll probably have in a good long while. We ran by her old condo and hit a few stores running errands. On our drive back into town we talked about our hopes and dreams and all that exciting yet depressing stuff. Exciting, because dreams cut to the core of who we are, become defining elements in our existential lives; and depressing because, well, hardly anyone accomplishes their dreams. It’s easy to go the route of succumbing to the current state-of-affairs, saying, “Well, this is it. Better stick my feet in the sand and make a home.” Jessica told me that the vast majority of those she graduated with, people dreaming to become artists, have set their feet in the sand and sought to reconstruct their dreams around lives of comfort. And here’s the reason she’s such an inspiration, such an encouragement, because while she knows full well the possibility of failure (as do I), and while she’s made mistakes in the pursuit of her dream (as have I), unlike me she’s still pressing forward, still fighting the current, still keeping her eye on that glimmering light in the distance that is a dream that can so easily be forgotten and even dismissed. I haven’t lost my dream, but I’ve come close to giving up on it; and perhaps one of the things I like best about Jess is that she’s refusing to submit, refusing to give up, fighting tooth-&-nail and staring the mountain she must climb with every intention of climbing it.

In the quieter moments the dream comes back to me, rising from the surface of my unconsciousness and becoming glaringly evident. The dream, really, is two-fold: (1) fall in love. I’m not some hopeless romantic who’s all about unrequited love (which is always a wee bit creepy at times); in fact, I’m quite cynical and broken but wiser (catch that quote?). But no matter how far you may drift from hopeless romanticism, there’s always the desire to fall “in love,” whether or not you phrase it that way, and I’m just as human as everyone else and want that. And (2) I want to become a career writer, hammering out stories and novels and selling enough copies to live a frugal and simple life in the backwoods somewhere. I don’t want to get rich or be a household name; no, I just want to be able to comfortably live and enjoy my times with friends and family. Really, how awful is that? But while I haven’t (at least in some ways) given up on “true love,” and while it may be something I don’t fully believe in, for the most part, it’s still something I hope for (whether wisely or foolishly, who can really know?). The second dream has been all but entirely pushed aside, in its places a dry and resolute skepticism. The point of my life has gone from pursuing something I longed to do and be and hoping in something beautiful along the way to a stone-cold stoicism focused on surviving and trying to enjoy it as best as possible. It is, in a way, a sort of resolution, or dissolution, if you will (sure, I will). I haven’t become content, I haven’t found my niche, I haven’t found the fountain of genuine living; I’m just trying to pay my bills and not be miserable in the meantime.

And yet this hope comes alive, again, in the quieter moments, and after talking with Jessica, it’s come back full-force. Friends tell me to shoot for it. I have the success and popularity in at least one major genre. I’m talented, creative, and weird: the best combination for a bad-ass story (and a combination that spawned both my biggest mistake and biggest success thus far). And though the desire to write burns within me, and though I never feel so alive as when I’m writing a story, I find myself at a halt, refusing to pursue this dream. So many factors hold me back, and nearly every one of them traces back to fear. Fear of failure, fear of not making it, fear of making the biggest mistake of my life by abandoning my dream. But how better is it to fear never accomplishing something, never making an elephantine effort, the fear of becoming an old man full of regret and alone? Not all dreams are worth fighting for; but when there’s the potential, then maybe it’s something to fight for. And I think this is something to fight for.