Ready. Aim. Fire?

I am feeling aimless right now.  Even as I sit here in this Soho coffee shop I have little on my mind other than returning to my couch and inserting a DVD of Mad Men into the player. I want TV.  But I need structure and a purpose to get me out of my holiday stupor in which I did little more than drink egg nog, eat fast food, and watch every movie with even the slightest chance of garnering an award this season.  After months of working as a freelance writer and photographer, I have hit a wall like a sticky rubber hand out of a vending machine and now, to say nothing of the type of dirt and hair said rubber hands attract, I am not sure how to peel myself off.

For a while I thought the answer was to leave the city.  When I returned to the buzz of New York after a tranquil summer in the mountains of Montana I felt as if I had been dropped into the middle of a pinball machine and it was only a matter of time before the iron ball rolled me over.  I wanted out.  I called my parents and informed them I was coming home in the winter for an indefinite amount of time and I was going to start school.  I made the announcement to my friends over multiple dinners, giving them an ever-shifting percentage of the likelihood of my departure as I watched them sip margaritas.  Eighty percent sure I will be gone at the beginning of January, I would tell them. 

Today is January 16th and I’m still in the city I’ve come to call home.  Yet without the fix of going to school—at least not until the fall—I am living each day without any type of structure; and unfortunately I’ve never been good at self-imposed structure (or at least not as diligent as I want to be).  This is probably because I spent my whole life enacting the schedule put up on a bulletin board at school and work, one that would delineate each hour of my day not only down to the room I was in but to the type of shoe I was wearing while in it.   

Those days are gone.  They fell away two years ago when I came down with Epstein Barr Virus and replaced a healthy work ethic with a couch tenure of epic proportions, one where chicken noodle soup was as essential as water and bagels became their own group on the food pyramid.  Through the discomfort I redefined my sense of normalcy.  I adjusted to the habit of enacting one task a day when my body allowed, and resolved myself to waiting out the virus and creating a life where my brain and creativity could coexist with the illness.

When I look at the past two years rationally I am able to give myself credit for persevering.  When I look at it with my dancer brain intact, the brain where eight hours of rehearsal would be followed by the gym, I feel utterly lazy.  But life changes.  Captain Obvious hand delivered that message to my door each time I popped in a new movie from my Netflix queue. 

The list of movies may be never ending but as each day passes I feel my life is returning to a true sense of normalcy where I can not only execute jobs to make money, but go out and socialize with my friends over the occasional glass of wine; the highlight of my week is no longer the eager anticipation of opening my mailbox and seeing a new disc of Battlestar Gallactica. (That’s just an added bonus.) 

But this transition back to a healthier life is proving just as confounding and difficult as the loss of my health in the first place.  I feel like an inmate on parole, always nervous that one mistake—whether pushing too hard with physical or social activity—will land me back behind bars.  To live with a chronic illness for any period of time makes the idea of living without it unfathomable.  Without the weight of the illness sitting on my shoulders like two grand pianos I have so much more opportunity; I can pursue photography with more fervor; I can enter a more intense school program; I can hopefully get to a point where dance is a part of my life again; and I can continue to be mindful of my ongoing recovery. “I can” is slowly replacing “I can’t.” 

Most importantly, as my incredible sister reminded me yesterday, I can give my permission to be aimless for a while.  It’s time to rebuild and understand that I have to lay out the foundation brick by brick because I can’t reach the top floor of the building without first creating the ground floor.  And if I have to watch an episode or two of Mad Men along the way, so be it. 

While writing this post I was reminded of the lyrics to one of my all time favorite Stephen Sondheim songs: “I Know Things Now” from Into the Woods.  I first discovered this song when I was five but the lyrics continue to resonate more with each passing day. 

Mother said,
"Straight ahead,"
Not to delay
or be misled.
I should have heeded
Her advice...
But he seemed so nice.

And he showed me things
Many beautiful things,
That I hadn't thought to explore.
They were off my path,
So I never had dared.
I had been so careful,
I never had cared.
And he made me feel excited-
Well, excited and scared.

When he said, "Come in!"
With that sickening grin,
How could I know what was in store?
Once his teeth were bared,
Though, I really got scared-
Well, excited and scared-
But he drew me close
And he swallowed me down,
Down a dark slimy path
Where lie secrets that I never want to know,
And when everything familiar
Seemed to disappear forever,
At the end of the path
Was Granny once again.

So we wait in the dark
Until someone sets us free,
And we're brought into the light,
And we're back at the start.

And I know things now,
Many valuable things,
That I hadn't known before:
Do not put your faith
In a cape and a hood,
They will not protect you
The way that they should.
And take extra care with strangers,
Even flowers have their dangers.
And though scary is exciting,
Nice is different than good.

Now I know:
Don't be scared.
Granny is right,
Just be prepared.

Isn't it nice to know a lot!
And a little bit not...

 

Comments

[Nick]

One of your best pieces of writing in a while Matt. Clear, concise and honest. You DESERVE to be aimless for a bit! Don't sell yourself short. Congrats on such a realization :)

[Esther]

Hey Matt,
Don't be so hard on yourself. There's nothing wrong with being aimless for awhile. You're thinking about what you want to do, so that's a good start. I think the process you're going through is pretty normal.

A couple of suggestions: it might not be too late to sign up for a college course. Also, have you thought about doing some volunteer work for a few hours a week?

I don't think your options are limited to Montana or New York. Maybe you want to start college in another part of the country. You might think about someplace like California College of the Arts, where you could study photography and creative writing, for example. Or maybe Michigan. I think you've mentioned that you have some friends who went there.

From what you've written, it seems like you've been pretty focused on dance from a young age. You might actually enjoy going to a liberal arts school for four years and getting your bachelor's degree.

You're young, you can go anywhere, do anything. Don't let the choices paralyze you - think of it as a great opportunity, which it is!

Hope this helps.

[Michael M]

I think it might be good to think that there's a difference between being aimless and feeling aimless. One of the "difficulties" of this period in your life has been that due to an extreme change in your life, you have found other meaningful ways of interacting with it. You are now beginning the process of re-entering the world with some interesting choices. To use an non-digital methaphor; you are waiting for the photo to develop. Hence, the feeling of aimlessness. You're right where you need to be. :)

[Amos]

i just think you're super gay for quoting into the woods. aimlessly gay in fact. love you for that one.

[kathy]

I have another musical quote for you. This one from "Beauty and the Beast"... the song called "Home"

"Oh, but then
As my life has been altered once
It can change again"

[M]

Thanks for all the support everyone! As always, this was a great way for me to sort through my emotions and process this sense of aimlessness.

I think you're right Michael (aka dad) when you say there is a difference between feeling and being. Always important to remember.

Kathy, strange that you bring in a quote from "Home," as BATB was the first show I did in my basement as a child. "Home" was my showstopper performed in a crop top and kimono. There's footage. No one shall ever see it. ;)

[Kathy]

STOP IT!!! You're killing me! Crop top and kimono?!! You're fabulous. I think a revival is in order.

[Matthew Murphy]

Kathy, I forgot to mention the pant wig that I had. Since a real wig wasn't in the budget when I was eight I decided to just put a pair of black jazz pants on my head and braid the legs together.

Sadly I think a revival would be more traumatizing to the world than exciting ;). And only a select few have seen the video. One of the few things I WON'T share on the blog.

[Kathy]

A good thing I checked to see if there were any more comments made on this post. The image was clearly not complete without the pant wig! (a term I will now incorporate into my daily language somehow.)

Showstopper indeed. We blog-readers will just have to imagine.

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You now, I have a similar point of view, Im about to leave the city and buy some cabin up in the hills, surrounded by nature, thats all I need, well of course maybe internet to keep in touch with the world. Great post