"Stop being good at everything!"

Being a jack-of-all-trades has its perks. I pick up anything I put my hand to rather quickly. Steep learning curves are much less stressful to me than most people. I test well, I have a great memory, and I've got a vast amount of experience in an array of subjects people are often surprised by. I've tried many things... sometimes twice. I feel my knowledge of the world is pretty vast, even if I tend to feel like I know less and less as I learn more and more. That's wisdom for ya.

The down side, in my experience, is that polymaths have a sense of restlessness that follows us where ever we go. We are all about progress, possibility, growth, creativity and finding inspiration in mastering new skills and pursuing new endeavors. For that reason, although we can adapt to almost any situation, we tend to get bored once we've hit a certain level of mastery with a subject, and move on to something new. There's a certain lack of longevity with things that I've experienced, as I tend to want to learn about everything as soon as it piques my interest. I get easily distracted by different things as my mood strikes me. In some ways one could say I am incredibly flexible, with a willingness to change to the next thing if the air seems right. However, seen another way one could also say I'm simply non-committal.

For example - I don't have a degree. This is in part because when I was younger college wasn't presented as being a real possibility for me. Once I realized I could have made that choice (OMG is that what adulthood is all about?), I had a job that made going to school full time impossible. Going into debt on a subject I was actually interested in seemed silly, given that most people I knew who had a degree in film or theater or music or photography work in jobs that have nothing to do with their degree's subject matter, and those who do are usually teachers (not that there is anything wrong with teaching - kudos to teachers - you are wonderful human beings). I've had several bouts of thinking maybe I could teach, but I end up disillusioned by (again) the cost of the education I have to complete in order to take on a career whose salary will likely ensure I'm paying off student loans for the rest of my life. Meh.

On top of this is the thought that if I wanted to go back to school full time I would have to quit my job, and take a job at night making likely a lot less than I'm currently making. I did that once, and although I quite liked working in hospitality and service most of the time, I also found that I'm quite weak-willed when it comes to not staying up until dawn with friends having deep philosophical discussions (and booze of course), and then sleeping all day. Not so conducive to being in class in the morning.

It's a cyclical battle with me, as all things I care for seem to be. I find myself struggling to figure out a path that involves doing something I love that also does something for the world, but doesn't have the requirement of going to school for it. It's proven fruitless so far. I'd love to get more involved in working on films or in music production or event production, or any kind of production really (as long as it has to do with something creative). Thus far I've found the work to be intermittent and certainly not enough to keep paying all of the bills I have each month.

I'm a bit at a loss with how to get where I want to go. Given I don't have a degree it's ever more difficult to jump into anything new that pays the bills, because it seems to be a requirement at most places I would want to go. All of the creative endeavors I tend to get involved with are non-paying (or basically stipend based), and done out of love. But I really want to break through that barrier and start working with something I'm truly passionate about. I learn so quickly, and I work incredibly efficiently, and I really am good at pretty much everything I attempt. I feel most of the time like that fact is wasted on things I don't care about (or is cut short by things like work visas). Some have said that it's my perspective that needs adjusting, and I really should be able to find that love in anything I am doing, and maybe that's true... but the fact of the matter is: I haven't found it yet, even though I make a point of looking every single day.

It's useless being good at everything when you can't seem to figure out how to use it to your advantage financially. There's got to be a way to make what I love life-sustaining.

Pale September

Pixie Elijah?

It's always an unusual state of affairs when I find myself in a funk, but this funk is an old wound sort. You'd think after 18 years this funk would be an old familiar friend in some sort of re-assuring way that love endures despite all odds. The anniversary of Elijah drowning in the bay looms heavily on my horizon - a storm cloud of sadness that threatens to pour forth into my world with the same biblical proportions as ever before. Sometimes I try to think of something to say about the situation, and more often than not words fail me. I miss him... as terribly as I did the day I found out he was gone. It's a hole in my heart that can never be mended - a puzzle that can never be finished. He'll always be that little girlish 14-year old that made me giggle when I watched The Professional, because Natalie Portman looked so much like him.

This year marks 18 years since that day I collapsed on his father's living room floor in sobs of disbelief. It's an age he never reached, though I had. He would have turned 32 last month... and the difference in our ages would have long been unimportant if it had ever shifted from the kinship we shared into something more. I always entertained the idea of us being romantically involved at some point later in life. I loved him completely. I wanted to protect him and allow him to protect me. I wanted us to teach one another. He was more like a little bird I was caring for who I knew someday would probably break my heart. I had no idea it would turn out to be with his passing. He was impulsive - an instigator, a prankster, a true fae-spirit. He would at once be wise beyond his years and then the next moment obviously a young teen boy. He loved being mistaken for a girl, and he believed in whatever he wanted to believe with no thought to what the world had to say about it. I admired that about him. I wanted to retain that within my own heart as I felt the strengthening hand of a society telling me I had to fall in line. Sometimes I think I have done so because of his absence from my life. It still pains me that I never told him I loved him, even if I know he knew. He told me once, on the phone. It was the most adorably awkward moment I've experienced in life, that accidental 'I love you.' I wrote about it in my journal.

It's good to write... I feel like there should be a point to it all, but I suppose the point is release. The image here always reminded me of Elijah - it's a Brian Froud sketch, but somehow it's always been him for me. The little pixie he was, and maybe still is somewhere out there. There are experiences I've had since he's gone that are hard to explain but keep me connected to him. Some of you know the stories. Some of you were there. I know people tell you loss like this gets better with time, but I don't really agree with that 100%. Some loss never heals - the tidal wave of phantom pain always seems to return at some point on an unending cycle. I may have a year or two where it's not as sharp... but this year it's intense. This year for some reason I find myself welling up with tears when I think of him. This year I cry to my sweet partner, who happens to be the same age Elijah would have been and similar to him in more ways than I am usually willing to admit, and he is graciously comforting and tender. I seem to find shreds of Elijah within everyone I love.... and this is no exception.

I'll be glad when this week has passed. I know that the flood will come again, as it always does. It's a pain that I'm used to, yet it always fittingly comes with the feeling that I'm drowning. I know people generally see me as the happy, optimistic, silly person I am... but sometimes I get a comment about a sadness in me. If you find yourself wondering, now you know - this is a big source of that sorrow.

I miss you, my sweet prince. <3