Now it's time to wake up.

Someone once told me, "You grow up when you give up your dreams, when you see things as they are, and you stop living for yourself."
"What's the point of living if you don't have a dream? I'd rather stick a knife in my gut right now than live like that," I retorted.
But I'm starting to believe that this unadulterated passion comes from youth and that giving up and growing up could quite possibly be one in the same.

Reality has stepped in to stomp out the fires of my idealism and from the ashes, I rise like a phoenix, new, changed...but as something I never wanted to be.
I write this thinking that I shouldn't be writing anything anymore, thinking that the things I write aren't any good and that the praise of strangers meant to soften the blows of my failure have made them far worse in the end.

I'm not special.
I'm a number.
Another blurred image in a crowd of the faceless.
I am reborn, but my phoenix is not powerful as she was meant to be, yet she looks down at the old me and feels only pity.

A fellowship with HBO, a fellowship with ABC, two film festival submissions...these are the forms I've filled out this week.
The promise of collaboration and the financing of both my scripts from a young novelist I do not trust, one who claims he has industry ties.
I hear praise, I fill out forms, I'm promised results and change...but nothing ever comes of it and I've never felt so discouraged.

Early this week I went to a job interview and the interviewer told me "We don't much like creative types around here. You couldn't handle the monotony."
I look at my heroes and I am baffled by and envious at the idea of actually being good at something, being so good at something that it's potent, unable to be missed.
And here I sit, unable to do anything, punished for a creativity that in truth, I do not possess.

Today, the letter from a law school in Lansing arrives.
I'm invited to their next open house and my parents encourage me to go.
I couldn't throw it away and I wasn't even insulted by the implication that I should forget everything I've ever wanted and go to law school instead...just because I can.
It's time to wake up.
It's time to choose.

In my romanticism, I never thought I'd have to face it...the possibility of not getting to do what I'd planned on doing.
I never thought I'd face the blade.
And surprisingly enough, I think I'm choosing law school over it.