Saturday, May 10, 2014

Rasin Bran and Whiskey

I had Rasin Bran for dinner tonight.

And the night before.

Actually I've had cereal for dinner most nights this week...the nights I ate dinner.

It's not that I have a particular affinity for Rasin Bran, in fact I consider myself more a Peanut Butter Capt'n Crunch gal.  It's just that's all I have to eat in the apartment. My funds have dropped to such a critical state that I can barely afford anything, and dinner these days seems an unnecessary expense. When there's Rasin Bran in the cabinet and all.

The whiskey's to take the edge off.

And so makes for the perfect pairing to reflect my state of affairs.

The struggle my dears, is real.

When I was younger I had a dream. I wanted to perform for as long as I possibly could. I wanted to live in my favorite place on the planet, and I would make lots of cash money waiting tables at a fancy overpriced New York Restaurant, living life and making it rain all the rest of my days.

No corporate bullshit for me. F the man!

And all my dreams came true. Every. Last. One.

Which takes us to me in my apartment in northern nowhere NYC, drinking whiskey from a water glass, empty bowl of flakes sitting tragically on my window sill.

It seems I took a wrong turn somewhere, I just can't figure out where.

What I can say for myself, despite the self declared failings, is I have always lived true to myself. I have lived a very exciting early half of my twenties and don't regret a single day of it. Not even that day I discovered LOST and didn't get off of my couch for twelve hours not even to take a piss. Especially not that day.

But as 24 races through like a haphazard bullet, fast and directionless, I begin to wonder how the next half of the most uncertain decade ever will proceed.

I am better than this. I am better than Rasin Bran.

But not yet. What I feel like they forgot to teach us, or perhaps tried to teach us while we were busy trying to figure out which Backstreet Boy was our favorite (mine was AJ, duh), is that it takes a long, gruling period of hard WORK to actually make a nice life. No matter what you choose to do. It's all a balance. There's no cheating the system.

I thought that by following my passion I was avoiding the 9-5 corporate monster that I loathed so greatly. These days my friends with corporate jobs seem to be living quite comfortably. Meanwhile all those auditions, and headshots, and waiting rooms made me feel anything BUT authentic.

My restaurant job sucked more of my soul than I can ever hope to recover. I swear, everyone should wait table once in there lives. I don't know if I believe in a hell after you die, but I certainly believe in one right here on earth. And that's it.

So now what? What on earth am I supposed to do? Do people actually know these things?

24 feels so unsure.

And I know I'm a baby. And I know I'm privileged. And I realize these are first world problems.

I count my blessings daily from my extremely supportive family, to my loving boyfriend, to all of my incredible inspiring friends. It's because of them that I find myself to be such a disappointment. I want to be so much better than I am.

 I'm so hungry for more.

And not just because I had Rasin Bran for dinner.


Because I refuse to keep repeating the same

Broken

Record.