So I met Eleanor last week. Remember that? It was in chapter three and the one before that.
Her door is actually right next to mine, and I pass it on the way to the elevators. While I wait for the elevator to arrive, I like to wonder what she’s doing in her apartment at that moment. Like if she’s reading, cooking eggs, painting, or sitting around naked. Because that’s what people do when they are alone.
I think a lot about her, and have debated slipping a note under her door like, “hi neighbor,” or “are you having a good day? from, 8E.”
We left it open-ended as to when we’d hang out next, so I’m trying to find a way to approach this. As I do, life continues.
It’s strange wearing a suit and tie every morning, and going to an office with a security system, and riding a subway with so many other people wearing a suit and tie, who look just like me.
They tell you when you’re growing up that you’re destined to be special and do something great, but then you realize you’re on the same subway car as all these other people who thought they’d be special and do something great. And then you try to distinguish yourself by wearing a blazer or a bright blue messenger bag, but then you end up looking like all the other people wearing them, and then you’re back to the same place.
Have you ever tried pursuing what you love? Really doing it?
When I graduated college, my dad told me to spend a moment every year evaluating if I’ve got what it takes to become the major film director I’d always aspired to be. Then, when I hit 40-years-old this year and none of the festivals picked up the short film I made six years ago, my dad got sick of me evaluating myself and did it for me.
So he told his best friend, Dan, who founded a firm, that his son needs to make a living, so Dan got me this job making acquisitions.
The job pays well. Dan is a solid guy. And it’s nice showing up somewhere every morning. I like going to a place where people are expecting me. It feels good to be expected.
But there are days when I’m sitting at my desk after grabbing one of those cone-shaped paper cups of water from the dispenser, and I ask myself: “Did I give up? Did I even try?” And I panic a little bit, like I did this all wrong.
But then I think, “You know what, Doug? For now, you’re just a character, in your own original movie, learning some lines, and dressing the part.”
And then I take a sip of water, sit back in my chair, and watch as, suddenly, the credits roll.
thesaintgermain 