What To Do?

 

I say this city is home, but truthfully, I didn’t grow up inside Los Angeles. I grew up about 45 minutes away (without traffic) in what I call the last town in the county. So technically still LA, but not so much the dirt, grime, and desperation that slides through the streets of Hollywood. And oddly enough, this city doesn’t feel very much like home. But neither does home either.

I decided to stay in Los Angeles because it always seemed the place to be. It’s where my dreams of acting made the most sense, it’s where my family is, and nothing in the world could beat the weather. It’s a paradise people dream of, but why do I find myself dreaming of something else?

I long for a life a lot different than this. I envision small towns with a lot of history near the ocean and forests of green. I want to live in a place where there is a fire in a fireplace, snow, summer, and all the colors of autumn. I want a yard and a favorite bookshop down the cobblestoned streets with coffee and tea that will remind me of a childhood I never had. I want simplicity in such a sad and complicated world.

Yet on the flip side, I want to do and be amazing things. I want to create something that changes the world. I want to be a force of nature they would name a hurricane after. I want to be admired and loved, and I want to feel accomplished. I want to be wealthy, not for vanity’s sake, but so I never have to worry about it. I want a life that doesn’t concern itself with survival, but instead, focuses on living. Truthfully. Boldy. And with a ton of love. I want so much more than what I currently have I just don’t know how to get it.

I have so many passions, too many if you ask me. But they’re all there burning inside me like a flame consuming a library. I want to be a poet. An actor. A writer. A leader. An archaeologist. A husband. A traveler. An explorer. I tell my boyfriend that maybe these are all my past lives showing themselves to me in glimpses of inspiration. Today my passions tell me to write. Tomorrow they will tell me to read. Some days they tell me to sing. I feel like I am good at many things but not excellent in a single one. What use is a compass if no one uses it to go in a direction? And that’s what I want. A direction.  A sign to say what I should do in THIS lifetime. I’m afraid to settle, but I can’t yet decide what is the most important thing for me to fight for.

I just recently turned 28, and I feel as if I am running out of time to accomplish something. I look at other people my age and they seem to have it all figured out. I never thought I would be approaching thirty but still feel as lost as I was when I graduated high school. What I am learning, however, is that the older I seem to get the less I become excited about things. And if I feel this way now, imagine how I will feel at 50?

But I don’t want to be glum and say things are bad, because, they aren’t. Last year I self-published a book that was featured in various outlets including The LA Times, I have a boyfriend who is the epitome of what love should be, and I have my friends and family supporting and believing in me. I just feel disappointed I’m not where I thought I would be, but honestly, are we ever?