Everything in its right place.

I just turned twenty years old. (For those of you who don't know, that's very young.) This is sort of an unpredictable time in my life, but I don't think I've ever been so happy or certain or at ease.

This year has been quite a year for me. I started off in a state of absolute disarray. I was fresh out of a three year relationship. I was caught up in the excitement of being in a show, being young, and being irresponsible. For the first time in what felt like forever, I had no one to hold me accountable for what I did. It was almost Portland all over again: I was busy, I was reckless, and I was absolutely miserable.

I won't say that nothing good came out of that period of time, because almost the opposite is true. Once I began to realize what I was doing, it really woke me up to a lot of things that I had been avoiding for months and years and maybe a whole lifetime. I've always been proud of being mature for my age, but that period of time brought me down to a level that I hadn't been to since I moved out of my house when I was fifteen. The foundation on which I'd built my life had absolutely crumbled away and I was left to try to rebuild with my hands something that I'd always had the tools for before. There was no more fixing up leaky pipes and touching up chipped paint; it was an absolute demolition. 

With Spring came the panic and realization that the path I was on was selfish, self-destructive, and so far from who I was and what I wanted that I could hardly recognize myself sometimes. I started to try to undo all that I'd done in the previous months. I began to grasp the fact that I had absolutely no idea what I wanted anymore. I had no direction, so I went in every direction at once, bouncing off the walls of frustration, insecurity, guilt, and denial. I was a horrible friend. I was a horrible family member. I was horrible to myself. But I was determined to try anything I could to try to find the right path. And with that goal firmly in my grasp, I trudged forward into the early summer months.

Being out of school finally brought me down from the manic state that I was in. I didn't have a place of my own, so I felt sort of adrift... but I felt okay. I saw almost no one, and I made almost no plans. I drove home to Rochester more times than I care to think about, but the long drives gave me the time I needed to really evaluate myself and my life and where I wanted to be. I started to think about the things that made me happy and the things that didn't... the things that were important to me, and the things that weren't. I learned about letting go and about investing in things that are worth it.

But it wasn't until the very end of summer that it all came together. It took the thought of going back to school and doing something that I never wanted to do to begin with. It took a friend that I'd mistreated moving away and me realizing how badly I'd messed up. It took a serious talk with Nana about avoidance and communication. And it took seeing too much of myself in a guy who, at 22 years old, was too wrapped up in himself to take responsibility for himself and his actions.

So here I am. I'm moving forward. I'm rebuilding bridges. I'm working hard, I'm not limiting my choices, and I'm taking life as it comes. I know what I want, and I know what I need, and I know what I need to work on. I'm doing what makes me happy.

And it feels wonderful.

The key to life.

Most of the time it's easier to give up and move on than it is to put in the effort to get what you want. And sometimes moving on is the better thing to do, because it's just not worth it to kill yourself over something that might not be worth it in the end. But how do you decide what's worth the effort?

You want to be an actor. Or an artist. Or a writer. Or a filmmaker. It's very easy to say, "I would never make any money. A career in that field is just too unrealistic." And then you get a job in marketing, or become a lawyer, or you go to medical school. And then you're either miserable, or you live a happy life. (Or, more likely, you're somewhere in between.) Or maybe you get a day job and keep your acting/writing/film making/art making on as a hobby and you're satisfied or you're not.

But it's sometimes just as easy to say "fuck the norm, I'm doing it." And then you become a famous musician. Or you end up writing jingles for commercials. Or working at starbucks to pay off your student loans.

There is no right or wrong answer. Sometimes things work out the way you want them to. Sometimes they work out the way you expect them to. Sometimes the way you expect them to turn out is the way you want them to turn out. Sometimes you end up in a place you'd never thought you'd be. Sometimes that's a good thing. And sometimes it's not.

Where you end up is often so hard to predict because there are so many factors involved. How far you get in any one endeavor can depend on the amount of effort you put forth, or the number of people you know, or how talented you are, or what kind of mood you're in. Or sometimes it just boils down to chance.

But you know what all of this is really all about? What life is all about? It's about the choices you make. It's about what you decide is worth the risk.

Should you move across the country to a state where you know absolutely no one? Should you apply to art school over law school? Should you give that person you like so much another chance even if he or she has that one potentially major flaw? Should you burn that bridge? Should you take that path?

It all depends on what you want, what you value, and what you are willing to lose.

It sounds kind of romantic, doesn't it? "Are you willing to risk it all to follow your heart/head/dreams?" But you shouldn't think of it that way, because it's not that simple. Even if you decide that something is worth the risk, or the sacrifice, or the hard work, you better make damn sure that you know what you're going to do if you ever come to realize that it's not worth it. Make a plan. Say to yourself, "I'm going to give this a shot, because I'm just not ready to give up on it yet. But if I ever get to this point, then I'll know that it's time to let go."

So here I am. I've worked so hard throughout my life to figure out who I am and what I want and what I need in my life. All that thinking and all that trial and error has lead me to this point, and it will lead me further. And I've decided that I don't want to give up. Not on the big things. Not on the little things. Not on the people. Not on you. Not just yet.

A word about fellow artists, and why most of them bother me.

"All artists are willing to suffer for their work. But why are so few prepared to learn to draw?" 

- Banksy

The thing about artists is that we all think we're very talented. The other thing about artists is that few of us really are talented... and among those few, fewer still manage to work hard enough to really make use of that talent.

Of all the art forms, I think the least popular for an average person to become involved in are drawing and painting. Why? I can only imagine it's because these are fields where a certain amount of natural skill are perceived to be required. With photography you can just pick up a camera and take pictures and all your family and friends will "oooooh" and "ahhhh" no matter how out of focus or poorly composed they are. With film, even professionals can get away with poorly written scripts and bad actors. With music, anyone can simply pick up a guitar and start learning basic chords (and soon enough half the world will be playing "Smoke on the Water").

If I hand someone a DSLR and say, "Hey, go be a photographer," they'll likely go out and take some decent enough pictures for anybody's family photo album and be damn proud of themselves. But if I hand them a pencil and say, "Go sketch that man sitting on the bench," the response I'll get nine times out of ten is, "But I can't draw!"

But here's the sad truth: being able to pick up an DSLR and take decent pictures doesn't make you a good photographer. Being able to play the guitar doesn't make you a good musician. Writing a script that gets produced doesn't make you a good writer. So you see, that person sketching the man sitting on the bench may not be any good at drawing, but chances are, you're not really all that good at the art form you chose either.

Good art requires three things: practice, training, and talent. And believe it or not, talent is probably the least important of those three things. Because if you learn and practice enough, I can almost guarantee that you'll be better than most talented people who've never taken the time to learn or practice.

Now, there are obviously some exceptions. Some people are simply born very, very talented. Is it possible that you're one of these people? I guess. Are you one of these people? Probably not. I certainly don't know anyone that talented.

However, I do know some amazing artists. And how did they become amazing artists? They went to school and they spend hours on their art. I also know more people who think their art is amazing, but they either haven't taken classes or don't bother practicing. And I think to myself, really? Even famous authors attend writing workshops and do writing exercises. Even amazingly talented actors still read books on acting and attend workshops. And you're going to sit here and tell me you don't need to take any photography classes or read any design books because you're already good at it? Or you're going to tell me you took a class or two so you don't need to practice as much as other people?

People who just start out drawing and painting work long and hard to get to where they want to be as artists. People who start out in any other field have absolutely no excuse to not work just as long and just as hard and learn just as much about their art form. 

So you think your art is good now? Take some classes or workshops and then go practice for three hours a day. And then when you look back on what you're doing now you can think, "wow, I really thought that was good?"

Wanted: Best friend

Required:

• Open to spontaneous travel (weekend road trips, etc.)
• Has good sense of humor
• Able to think critically and see several different sides of the same issue
• Does NOT want to jump my bones
• Is willing to try new things
• Can be mature when the situation requires it (be honest with yourself)
• Doesn't get offended over minor issues (such as music taste, etc.)
• Able to be absolutely ridiculous/silly when appropriate
• Doesn't take life too seriously

Desired (but not deal breakers):

• Has an appreciation for art
• Not allergic to cats
• Enjoys eating delicious foods and drinking smoothies
• Enjoys playing Super Smash Brothers (any version)
• Enjoys the occasional bout of mischief
• Wouldn't mind movie and/or TV show marathons every now and then
• Doesn't have rabies
• Has an awesome hidden talent (or two)
• Doesn't mind that I have a new DSLR and therefore feel the need to constantly be taking pictures
• Can dance (OR isn't afraid to look silly while dancing)
• Will sing with me in the car (even if we're both horrible at singing)
• Thinks Anderson Cooper is beautiful (Even if you're a dude. You know it's true.)
• Isn't afraid to get his/her nerd on every once in a while

Balance

In some moments I find myself teetering on the edge of rage. My instinct it to lash out. But it's easy to forget that those we're lashing out at are people too, and most often they're only the tiniest part of a huge societal problem. We can argue and argue for ages, and more often than not those arguments only result in one or more people being offended or hurt, and one or more people leaving with a sour sense of self satisfaction.

I like to think I've found balance within myself, but I forget it sometimes when interacting with people who are driven by pettiness and ignorance. It takes a great deal of effort to keep myself from sinking back down to that level. But I'm human; a work of art, flawed and perpetually unfinished.

A meaningful dream

Last night I dreamed I was in a city (New York? Chicago? Boston?) trying to hail a taxi. It was raining, and none of the taxis were stopping, so I turned around and started walking down the street toward someplace that was dry. As I was walking, a woman roughly my age put her umbrella over my head and asked me if I knew any good restaurants. Behind her were her friends; one was smiling and laughing and telling stories, the other seemed very shy.

I led them past a super fancy Japanese restaurant. "I heard it's really nice, but it's also really expensive so I won't recommend it to you," I said. The girl with the umbrella laughed and said, "Now here's a girl who knows my style!"

I finally led them to a relatively nice, relatively inexpensive restaurant and was invited to join them. I sat between the umbrella girl and the shy girl. The shy girl didn't order any food.

"Don't worry," said the umbrella girl to the shy girl, "we'll find some place to get some chocolate after this." The shy girl smiled sweetly. I suddenly remembered something. "I know a nice chocolate cafe around here," I said. The part of me that knew I was dreaming wondered if I was in the right city, or if the chocolate cafe was just a memory of some other city I'd lived in.

I'm not sure why this rainy, random girls night out with strangers struck me so much, but it did. Previously, my dream was filled with people from every different era of my life (who seemed to all know each other, and we all lived in this imaginary city that seemed to be a composite of every city I've ever stepped foot in.) Everything had been familiar, everyone was someone I knew, and I was very happy to be in the company of all of these people... and then I was alone and the three girl strangers showed up and I seemed to accept it as part of my life.

"Do you know what the meaning of life is?" The shy girl asked after a while. The umbrella girl laughed and said, "Don't mind her, she's in a phase where she has to figure everything out." But I smiled and told the umbrella girl it was fine, and I turned back to the shy one. "I have no idea, but here's how I see it: every day should be enjoyable. If you don't have anything to do that day, go out and do something awesome. Spend time with people whose company you enjoy, and forge meaningful connections with as many people as you can." The laughing girl let out a beautiful laugh, the umbrella girl grinned at me, and the shy girl gave me a shy smile.

And then I woke up.

Home

I'm a leaf on the wind; no trees in sight, no roots to keep me grounded. Last night I sat staring at all my most useful and most prized belongings, packed neatly into a handful of bags. I thought about everything else I own, squirreled away in a ten by ten tin box with a lock on the door. I wondered what life would be like without it all. But I already know because I'm already living it.

This morning I moved my bags to a different location. As I set them down I took in the sight of the place that I knew would never be my home. It was not an unfamiliar feeling. It was not a pleasant feeling. But I was determined not to feel sad.

I was overcome, though. As the day wore on I was consumed by my yearning for some place warm and familiar. Some place filled with memories and photographs and life.

I miss the ocean. I miss taking pictures. I miss every best friend I've ever had.

I miss waking up and not having to wonder where I'll end up next.