Dramatic sigh. You guys. I’m having one of those days. One of those days when the reality of life just hits you. When you realize “Holy income tax, Batman, I am an adult.”

I am twenty two years old and all I have to show for myself is a startling amount of pink nail polish and enough chandelier earrings to make… well, a chandelier. I am freaking out, realizing I have few talents and even fewer accomplishments. I know I am but young, but I hold myself to higher standards. I always have. I’ve had this same feeling since I was sixteen. Realizing I was sixteen and hadn’t done anything worthwhile was a blow to my confidence and now, six years later, the feeling has intensified.

And on some level, I know I’m being ridiculous. I think a lot of this restless, unaccomplished feeling has to do with the fact that I had dedicated my life to pursuing a career in film since I was 14. And until very recently, that was still my plan. For seven years I worked and dreamed and had confidence that I was on the right path. And I was. I still have every bit of confidence that I could have a satisfying film career if I wanted it.

For the past year, however, God has been slowly shifting my desires. I’ve always been a writer. I’ve always seen it as the ultimate means of expression and I’ve always lived and practiced as a writer, even if I didn’t professionally claim to be one. And somewhere over the course of the last sixth months, this desire has become all I care about. It has completely altered my plans for my future. And I’m okay with it; I truly am. I look toward my future with excitement.

The scary part is having had one driving goal for pretty much all of my adolescent and adult life, having worked up a resume to that end, and now looking around and realizing I have nothing. I have no contests won, no portfolio, no clout. I pray I even have talent, because on some (most) days, I’m able to convince myself that I don’t.

I’m frustrated that I couldn’t have a passion for real estate or upper-level management, or even teaching. But then I wouldn’t be me, would I? The adult in me is telling me to grow up and be realistic. But that indefatiguable child in me is running through the clouds over Neverland, laughing, and skipping and dreaming. So, as is my nature, I’m pushing forward. I’m going to work hard and try to make up for the lost time that I haven’t been building a writing portfolio and making myself a better writer.

I’m going to challenge myself to have at least one “serious” blog post a week; it could be something like Tuesday’s introspective post, it could be a short story, It might be poetry, it might be an essay. I don’t know. The point is, I’m going to try to develop my talent, to improve my skill, and yes, expand my readership. To nurture myself and evolve in my writing.

And because no introspective post of mine is complete without the accompanying heart-wrenching song, I direct your listening ears here. I’ve recently rediscovered my love for Mumford & Sons and I’ve had Thistle & Weeds on repeat all evening. The beautiful thing about good music is that it speaks to you differently in different parts and times in your life. Today, this is the perfect expression of how I feel going after a writing career and leaving old desires behind. Lyrics below:

Thistle & Weeds by Mumford & Sons

Spare me your judgements and spare me your dreams
Cause recently mine have been tearing my seams
I sit alone in this winter clarity which clouds my mind
Alone in the wind and the rain you left me
It’s getting dark darling, too dark to see
And I’m on my knees, and your faith in shreds, it seems

Corrupted by the simple sniff of riches blown
I know you have felt much more love than you’ve shown
And I’m on my knees and the water creeps to my chest

But plant your hope with good seeds
Don’t cover yourself with thistle and weeds
Rain down, rain down on me
Look over your hills and be still
The sky above us shoots to kill
Rain down, rain down on me

But I will hold on
I will hold on
I will hold on hope

Oh I will hold on
I will hold on
I will hold on hope

I begged you to hear me, there’s more than flesh and bones
Let the dead bury their dead, they will come out in droves
But take the spade from my hands and fill in the holes you’ve made

But plant your hope with good seeds
Don’t cover yourself with thistle and weeds
Rain down, rain down on me

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I will hold on hope,

4 thoughts on “Nothing Funny, I Just Like Talent!

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