Night

Let me tell you something about the Night. Night is the time that we humans are at our most vulnerable. Night is when we lay down to sleep to rest our used and weary bodies. Anything could happen in our sleep and we'd be defenseless. Night is when we strip off our clothes and let others see us as we are and let them use us as they will. Anything could happen when we fuck and we would be defenseless. Night is when we participate in soul bearing conversations and reveal our dreams that would otherwise be safe inside our skulls had it not been for the allure of night conversation. And everything happens when we talk; we are defenseless. This is one of the reasons why prostitutes and artists are social renegades. While most of us barely function in the night because we're too tired, drunk, high, or horny, whores and other creative types thrive engaging in their work. Night is delirious and entertaining in no way that day can be.

Quite the melodrama, no? Well it's Night now so please, indulge me. I was recently told that I live for the past. And it's true, I'm the queen of nostalgia.

There are several things that I miss about college life, and night talk is on that list. When I was in school, there was always an opportunity to run into friends, acquaintances, and complete strangers with whom you would share long, long, wonderful conversations about everything and nothing that streched from dinner way into the next morning causing you to totally disregard class for the day. I lived for those talks. And tonight I revisited this favored pastime. The hours were shifted forward because now everyone has work tomorrow that they begrudgingly can't miss, but the intensity and awesomeness remained.

This particular living room contained four 20-somethings, all struggling with essentially the same problem. Each one of us is not on a job/career/life path that is desired. Two auditors, an unemployed former auditor, and an under-employed health care worker talked about what we would do if the stars lined up and we felt free enough to actually do what we wished. An architect, Olympian, fashion designer, and writer were all aching to come out if only we felt brave enough to let them. And it sucks. It sucks that we feel so constrained by money, expectations, security, and indecision. It's sucks even harder that while each of us does plan to one day pursue our respective dreams, we're still scared shitless of that most horrible constraint of all, failure. Superheroes in our own rights, living Clark Kent existences.

Each one of us is a UCLA grad with all kinds of good things about ourselves to write on paper. We are your run of the mill, overachieving meritocrats. We've been groomed to believe that when a person works hard and does well, he ought to be rewarded. And this has been true for most, if not all of our lives. But the fact is that our dreams don't work that way. There is a very large margin for failure set up in these careers. And the more we talked about them, the more we saw how well within our reach they actually are. Scary. And it makes me wonder if all the previous "constraints" are just stories we've made up to cover up the fact that we're actually just scared of the failure that may follow the pursuit. What if everyone thinks our work is shit or we only get the silver? I should stop using the pronoun we, because at this point I'm only considering myself. I know that I'd succeed in grad school and in the career in student affairs that would inevitably follow. It's good work and it's rewarding and so very, very safe. I like safe, I want it. I'd be happy. But the "what if" won't go away. It's there, persisting in the back of the room alluring in all its smokey, shadowy glory. What if someone pulled a Janet Evans and just went for the gold? (Do it Chris ;)

We flipped back and forth between the benefits of staying on the safe path and the fulfillment of pursuing a passion. All we found was the most mundane of answers. Do what we need to do now, work hard, grind, don't go crazy, don't lose sight, know that in a little bit we can start again doing what we want. Figure out what exactly what we want, this should be done early on, no? It isn't the end of the world, but it's a clear signal that it ought to be the end of impetuousness. But the fire and impulse are what I love the most! Ahh! So, so late. My mind is everywhere.

None of us is sure how the next three years will pan out. Hell, the question of day to day living for next three months is trouble enough for one of us in particular. Everything is so uncertain it's outta control. CPA exams, babies, grad school, business school, art school, moving to New York, moving to Orange County, quitting, swimming, balance sheets, and proving ourselves. I love it, I hate it. Such a scary roller coaster, I don't know when it started and I'm not sure where it'll end. One more thing, why does it feel like we're still accelerating? How high does this thing go? Is it scarier than X at Six Flags, because I feel like I'm going to actually die on that ride.

And this is why I love the Night. You dream in the comfort of your bed and the privacy of your sleep or out loud on marked down luxurious couches of similarities and compatibilities with waving arms, lost twins, best friends, and new roommates, you know, those other drifting minds that bump into yours in the dark.

Melodramatic, no?