Bluebirds on our shoulders

There is a tenable schism between who I am, and who I feel I should be. There is who I really am, here on the left, and who I feel I should be and what I feel I should do somewhere on the right. And I fall, each day, with each decision, gossamer wings of hope ablaze, to the far, far right. Which is nowhere near who I really am.

For those of you who've followed this rambling, dinosaur of a blog throughout the years, you probably know this about me better than I know it myself. The recurring themes in my life being: learning about departure, letting go, and finding a balance between what I feel I should do, and what I actually want.

I'm 26 now, and I know how young that is. I appreciate all of the time that remains to figure it all out, but I want to know first, before I settle in to thinking that it'll sort itself out in time, how many people go through entire lifetimes afraid of becoming their true selves? How many people never overcome the fear that prevents them from being who they really feel they are?

I, for instance, fancy myself a writer. I don't know whether I am a good writer, or not. I don't even know if I'm passionate or convincing, or devoted enough. I only know that when everything else is lost, and everyone is far, far away, that it is what I reach for. And to the question, "what do you do?" I want to answer, "I am a writer." For those reasons, I know that a writer is who I really am.

Who I feel I should be is an Account Executive, peddling complex rich media executions to big budget advertisers with money to burn. I feel that I should collect my quarterly commission checks, pay off my infinite credit card bills, and go on interesting vacations. I want to get married, have a big ridiculous party, look amazing, go on a lavish honeymoon, buy a puppy, live in the most expensive city in the world in a beautiful brownstone, and have everything I've ever wanted. This life, the one I feel I should have (am entitled to), is the easier road, and incidentally the road I'm already on. Certainly I paid a form of dues to get here, and I spend a lot of time sitting in Chicago wallowing about the sheer lack of romance and originality and insanity surrounding me, and I long for my friends and say often how unhappy I am. But this was all my setup. This IS who I thought (and still think) I should be, and because I am afraid- paralyzed by the fear- of becoming who I really feel that I am, I plan to continue on this road. And I want to know how many other people feel this very same way. Can I achieve those things that I want to have, by being the person that I truly am, and want to be? Or do I have to be who I think I should be in order to succeed in the ways I feel that I deserve.

I see it in Bryan, too. Like me, Y is a writer. On a daily basis he acts as a permissions coordinator for Playboy Magazine, but he is a writer. He is talented, introspective and complex...all things that make a great writer. But he is not brave. Just like me. He is not writing because he doesn't believe it is the reasonable thing to do. Because maybe he doesn't see potential for any marketable success. He doesn't necessarily see a paycheck. And maybe he doesn't care to see the failure that is the potential of any burgeoning writer. I know that I don't.

I'm burning a candle every day, we all are. Trying to understand before the wick expires who I actually am, swimming around in wax. There is no clear picture of what taking the braver road will bring. Who I feel I should be has won just about every time, because there is so much security in incremental raises and quarterly commissions. There is so much sanity in coming home at 6pm and checking email from your blackberry at a Starbucks. There is just no fire in that, is there? I want to be on fire...

I want to know who else feels this way. Should I write to Oprah?