[Previously on TTC: I decided to move away and do all the things I couldn’t do, or wasn’t supposed to do, or shouldn’t have done, including the production of movies in the USA. Because I wanted to. I loved proving the naysayers wrong. I wanted to live out my life, not someone else’s.]
I was lucky enough to be taught at a tender age by my folks that freedom is not just rebellion. It’s so much more. It’s something grander and more exciting. It’s creating a third option when only two are available – four options when three are available – ten or twenty when none are available. It’s breaking the boundaries and thinking outside the box.
Outside the box! How I have failed to make the breach. Despite all my efforts, I have yet to break outside it. I’m every bit subject to its boundaries. I merely pretend I have done something different, aided by the exotic aspects of some of the things I’ve done: written a ton of unpublished books, researched controversial topics in controversial locations, been to the Amazon rainforest and partaken in life-changing experiences, self-published my own books when agents turned me down again and again, made a short film, now a feature film – activities that sound good in principle, but in practice I’ve done nothing substantial, not yet. I’ve tested certain boundaries, even broken a few, but I’ve yet to claim the privilege of being free, as I understand it. I’m still a slave to the commitments that keep individuals captive an entire lifetime.
You may say, what rubbish! How indulgent, to feign modesty so crassly, to complain about one’s achievements as if they were failures, listing one’s accomplishments in the process. How underhandedly conceited.
You may be right, but the truth is that this is the way I feel, unfulfilled. This is how I view my life. Do my achievements, whatever they’re worth, preclude me from experiencing worry and doubts? Do they make me unworthy of frustration, ineligible to communicate and convey my aggravation, simply because my aspirations are too lofty, or too specialized?
Maybe so, but I don’t care. Add arrogance to my feigned modesty and call me names, because I’m going to express my disappointment as I feel it, when I feel it, exactly the way I feel it. I have that impulse. I am currently weighed down by the burdens from which I was supposed to break free, still a slave to many of the mindless drudgeries of the world, and it irks me, and acknowledging it helps me deal with it.
Watch this space for Part 5