The Oscars and the path not taken
This time of year is always difficult for me. Award season. And it culminated Sunday night with the Oscars.
A lifetime ago I was a secret dreamer and theater geek. I loved the performance, the creativity, the catharsis of portraying emotions, the connection I felt to humanity by exploring another person’s experiences. I got the plum roles I auditioned for, drama teachers and community theater directors encouraged me, it looked like I may just have a future in the theater.
But my parents were pessimists and worked hard to make me be more realistic. By the time I got to BYU I was so terrified of debt and school loans and an uncertain future, that I thought the only option was to leave college with a job. The only way to guarantee that was to study something useful, and since I don’t have a natural inclination towards math or science, I went for teaching. By my senior year I started to feel a little more brave, or maybe just felt that longing I couldn’t ignore, and signed up for some drama classes. I auditioned for a big play with the hottest playwright on campus and got the part, even though I was up against tons of talented and experienced people.
Then I had to drop out because I needed emergency oral surgery and my entire jaw was infected by a bad wisdom tooth. And then my college time was over.
I got married and graduated, and with a little more of my path determined, things weren’t so terrifying. My husband grew up in Orange County and his family has a bunch of connections to the entertainment world, so we decided to follow that longing again and move to California so I could get my chance. I was sure that I was being led to opportunity.
Then Bear couldn’t find work, money was tight, I got sick with a chronic illness that still rules my life, and I had to give it up again to keep my family functioning. I started working full time while Bear finished school, and then we started a nearly decade long fertility battle. From the very beginning it was obvious. Pursue the dream of acting, or the dream of a family. At the time I didn’t mind all that much. I asked myself what I wanted my life to look like when I was fifty, and I saw myself wearing a floppy hat and gardening clogs, picking tomatoes to serve with dinner. I knew that if I could only have one, I wanted a family.
I still know that’s true. I spent Monday morning watching the Oscars I missed the night before, getting occasionally teary eyed and hugging my baby extra close. My hard won miracle baby. The baby I worked for for eight years. They baby I nearly died for. If I could only have one role, I chose right. It was all worth it for my family.
I just still get sad that I could only have one.
One lifetime is not enough. I harbor a secret wish that the Buddhists are right and we’ll get another whirl or two at earthly life.
Comment by Course Correction — March 9, 2010 @ 10:51 am
I know the feeling, Reese.
Comment by Stephanie — March 9, 2010 @ 10:54 am
Sigh. It’s amazing how much of our lives becomes defined by the things we don’t choose every bit as much as the things we do. I know I’ve had to make a lot of compromises- some of them also related to chronic conditions, and sometimes, life just happened and my course was changed yet again. It’s been a strange trip.
Comment by Kimberly — March 9, 2010 @ 11:12 am
I often miss the road not taken, even when I know it wasn’t the right road .
Comment by Jessica — March 9, 2010 @ 11:22 am
I wish I had some deep insight to the issue, but I often feel the same way, and in fact, my alter life is acting. I love the stage, I love being a different person, a different life, the thrill…
Sigh….
Comment by Sunshine — March 9, 2010 @ 11:58 am
I sometimes wonder why we are given talents we can’t fully develop. I also wish my talents were more connected and helpful in what I really want to be-a good mother. Somehow a killer serve doesn’t help a whiny 2yo
Comment by britt — March 9, 2010 @ 12:11 pm
I’m with Jessica - I often wistfully think of the road not taken. I’m grateful for where I am, but I always wonder.
I was a theater geek too. I loved the stage. I don’t know if I was any good, but I always dreamed of being an actress. I still do.
Comment by Bobby Pin Natalie — March 9, 2010 @ 12:18 pm
You are not alone. This is a real problem for many of us, despite our varied circumstances. And I think it’s okay to mourn those lost paths, even though we know we have made the right decision.
Comment by myonee — March 9, 2010 @ 12:19 pm
One of my favorite books/movies is Wonder Boys (book by Michael Chabon, movie starring Michael Douglas). The main character, Grady Tripp, is a writer/college writing teacher who has been working on a book for 7 years (a follow-up to a critically and popularly successful novel). His book is over 2000 pages and not even close to finished. Grady’s student finds the manuscript and begins to read it. She tells him that in class he’s always saying that what writers have to do is make choices, but in his writing he’s not making any choices at all. For a while in my early/mid twenties I did the same thing, especially with relationships. I didn’t want to close any doors because that would limit my possibilities. But, as another book/movie favorite of mine, Rob Gordon in High Fidelity, says, “That’s suicide.” It’s sometimes painful to think about roads not taken, but apparently it’s part of the human condition. (And we can find sympathetic readings of that condition in books, movies, and poetry. Thank God for literature.)
Comment by Melissa — March 9, 2010 @ 12:40 pm
Reese, it won’t make you rich, but it might make you happy, to explore and get involved in community theatre ….if it is the JOY of performing you love and not the dream of stardom and money and walking the red carpet. We love to go to our community theater performances though we are small town and small budget. It is likely they will really really appreciate someone of your talent being in a play just once every year or two. It is scaled down, but it might be an option for you to do BOTH, in just a different way than you imagined.
Comment by Melissa P. — March 9, 2010 @ 1:20 pm
Reese,
I would sure love to see you in a play.
And I’m sorry there was no way for you to pursue all of your talents and dreams at once. I second Melissa P - perhaps you might have a chance at community theatre - although I do understand why that might seem like a cold comfort compared to the tremendous opportunities of pursuing acting as a career.
It’s funny that you post this now - I am (as I have written before) somewhat unwillingly stuck in South Texas right now with no job. I went from a place where on any given weekend there was a community or university theatre show on in easy driving distance, to a place where community theatre is far less valued. To make a long story short, I auditioned for the university production of Much Ado About Nothing. No callback. Like you I was accustomed to scoring the big parts, and I spent an evening crushed and crying on my couch in the dark wondering why I was being deprived of everything I loved (teaching, friends, family, acting). Turns out there was a mistake, I WAS on the callback list… and now I’m playing Beatrice.
I really hope you can find an outlet for your obvious talents and desires.
Comment by xenologue — March 9, 2010 @ 1:33 pm
Firstly #1, Course Correction, I think the Buddhists are right, I think we’ll get as many chances as we need to get it right.
Reese,
I gave up my life in the theater too when I got married. I am a costume designer and I loved working shows. Unfortunately that lifestyle did not fit, nor does it now, fit into my life with GG. I still sew things for myself and friends and family and I make jewelry as a hobby.
Find yourself a creative outlet somehow!
Comment by AmazonaWomona — March 9, 2010 @ 2:06 pm
Acting and family do not have to be mutually exclusive. Once the baby is old enough, you could have some fun with a local theatre group.
Comment by StillConfused — March 9, 2010 @ 3:10 pm
Well sure, and they aren’t for most people. Most actors do have families.. But in my case, it hasn’t worked out that way.
I’m sure I’ll do more community theater eventually, but that’s worlds away from the caliber of work I dreamed of doing. No one is going to be content with taking their life’s passion and only getting to dabble in it.
Comment by Reese Dixon — March 9, 2010 @ 3:23 pm
xenologue, that’s my daughter’s favorite shakespeare play-are you by chance near houston?
Comment by britt--and the brat — March 9, 2010 @ 3:25 pm
“I just still get sad that I could only have one.” As you have mentioned, for some people they get to “HAVE” both family and acting life, so maybe you too could have had both. But who would you be?
The experiences you described that kept your from it–the heart break and harrowing pregnancy–made you who you are. Even if you had the career, and your baby, you would have given up this person you are and are becoming. And maybe this is the person you were supposed to be.
But that doesn’t mean there isn’t some passion out there waiting for you to pursue it.
Comment by zaissa — March 9, 2010 @ 4:02 pm
I do sympathize with that.
Like I said, for someone in your situation, community theatre would perhaps be cold comfort.
15 Britt - I’m a 6 hour drive from Houston. “Close” is a relative term now that I live in the Rio Grande Valley. :/
Comment by xenologue — March 9, 2010 @ 4:07 pm
xeno-that’s close for texas
I completely sympathize with the dabbling. I play volleyball atleast weekly. It’s actually fair volleyball, except it’s in a carpet gym and my husband has to cover extra ground because I’m 5 + months pregnant. Or when I’m not pregnant, I’m nursing and my ligaments are very slow at getting back to where they should be when I’m nursing. sigh.
Then it’s embarassing if someone asks me if I’ve played college, I dont’ even want to say.
dabble is sometimes worse than nothing. With nothign you have your day dreams…with dabbling you have the reality of where your life really is in relation to your daydreams.
Comment by britt--and the brat — March 9, 2010 @ 4:31 pm
britt, are you pregnant with #9 or with #10?
Comment by Stephanie — March 9, 2010 @ 5:10 pm
Yes, dabbling can be hellish in that it makes so clear the gap between your dreams and your reality.
For years I have harbored a bitter, melancholy love for the last scene of the movie Amadeus. Salieri has recounted the story of Mozart, of whom he was so eternally jealous, to a priest. As he leaves the interview, certain that he will soon die, he promises to speak to the Lord for the priest.
I will speak for you, Father. I speak for all mediocrities in the world. I am their champion. I am their patron saint.
That has always touched a nerve for me. I have had many high hopes in my life. I wanted to be a great novelist, or a great painter, then a brilliant college lecturer and writer of nonfiction or a successful graphic designer, and all with a large family, for whom I would be a skilled cook and doting father.
Hah.
Life gets in the way. And now that some of the challenges have been cleared up ::knock on wood::, most of those ships have sailed. I doubt I’ll ever be anything more than an adequate something. And I suppose I shouldn’t complain. I’ve a wonderful wife, we can still have some kids, I have a job…many have it worse. And I’m able to dabble in many of those passions. But oh, the bitterness of that gap between dreams and reality.
I get it, Reese.
Comment by Derek — March 9, 2010 @ 5:26 pm
But dabbling can still produce great art-some of the best theatre I have seen has been community theatre and has changed my life.We don’t need others to tell us that what we’re doing a great creative act,in fact all the more powerful for it’s intimacy.Do great stuff , when the time is right for you.Your baby’s life will be enriched by an empowered mother.
Comment by wayfarer — March 9, 2010 @ 5:40 pm
Stephanie, this baby is #9-we are planning a home birth.
Oh Derek…I really feel the dream vs. reality thing.
Comment by britt--and the brat — March 9, 2010 @ 6:35 pm
My sister didn’t follow my parent’s advice about the impracticality of studying theatre. I think if she were to do it over she would have chosen something else. But your failures are a part of you, as much as your successes are, and there are no take-backs.
Comment by jks — March 9, 2010 @ 6:50 pm
(derek- having tasted some of your creations, I can say that you are already a more-than-adequate cook, plus you have a lot of life left so who knows what will happen.)
Comment by Alliegator — March 9, 2010 @ 6:54 pm
I am thinking along the way we learn to find contentment in lots of things we would not have thought we could. Reese you are doing that, passionately. But I understand the loss of a dream and the grief we face in reality, at times.
And honestly, who hasn’t had to lean into reality in their lives. Ok, I guess some haven’t but they do not represent the most of humanity.
We give a big standing O to our theatre and in that moment, I think there well can be contentment. Perhaps they are all up there thinking, yeah, but I am JUST DABBLING! But they look pretty happy. Also I know of a SAHM who does costumes for community theatre and has really had a blast.
I am glad such things exist. I might have once dreamed I would be a great artist. Some might think I have settled. I suppose I have.
But I am of the ‘bloom where you are planted’ variety. It just makes sense to be happy. To me. As much as possible.
But in the meantime, from time to time, we may grieve a bit.
Comment by Melissa P. — March 9, 2010 @ 7:16 pm
I feel that same pain every time I attend a live play, especially musicals. I think I avoid going to shows often because of it.
Comment by Roxanna — March 9, 2010 @ 8:02 pm
Get yourself into a community theater group. There’s no reason you can’t have just one dream.
Maybe you would have made it into the top ranks of actors. Maybe you wouldn’t have. Maybe you would have been a Peter O’Toole or a Cary Grant who functioned at the top of their craft and added to the culture but never got the formal recognition of an Oscar. So not much point in being stuck on that point. But you could be acting. On a regular basis. And bringing drama to an appreciating audience.
Let the dream go. Let the reality commence!
Comment by Withheld — March 9, 2010 @ 8:14 pm
Well, Derek, you’re a seriously brilliant blogger.
I can’t do theater anymore because of my asthma. My voice is unreliable. Otherwise, I’d be torturing my community regularly by joining the local productions. I enjoyed it a lot while I could do it- it was fantastic fun pretending to be somebody else. I especially liked doing interesting character parts.
I had to stop doing gymnastics after I broke my back in a very bad fall. I really loved it. I wasn’t Olympic material, but it’s something that truly fed my spirit while I did it. I still have dreams that I’m tumbling on the beach- one of my favorite ways to train, because the sand is very challenging…it also doesn’t hurt to land badly in it. My body was so powerful- so responsive, so disciplined.
Comment by Kimberly — March 9, 2010 @ 8:52 pm
#16 - “But who would you be?”
This is the conclusion I have come to with regards to my life. Chronic illness has been a part of my life for almost a decade now, causing me to lose many things - the most painful has been losing the ability and desire to make music.
I just can’t gather the energy to want to do it right, and if I can’t do it right, I don’t really want to do it at all. The gap between the ideal and the reality is too big now, and that is just the way it is.
That being said, my illness has been one of the defining “events” of my life. It has taught me patience, empathy, self-preservation, humility, gratitude, and a whole raft of other things that I value quite highly. I would not willingly trade it or give up those lessons — a bittersweet truth many years in the learning.
(Of course, I also cling to the belief that the next stage of my life will have even better, shinier toys to play with than this one, and also the opportunity to play with *all* of them! :D)
Comment by Matt A. — March 9, 2010 @ 9:35 pm
Does anyone know a good resource to find community theatres and community theatre news? I would love to be involved in that but I haven’t been able to find out how to.
Comment by Roxanna — March 10, 2010 @ 10:11 am
I often feel the struggle between missed dreams and a mediocre reality. It’s something that bothers me a lot. But I have a very sweet friend that gave me a new perspective about it. He told me that the things we want to be great in can effectively blind us to the things that we are great in.
For example, I always thought I was going to be a great scientist that cured disease, or maybe a great philanthropist that traveled the world sharing hope and clean water. Life has proven otherwise, and I often feel a keen disappointment that I haven’t even been mediocre (much less great) at those goals. But when I was talking about those disappointments with my friend, he mentioned a couple of things that I had done that had made a huge difference in his life. Things that profoundly changed who he was, and would impact his family as well.
I think he had a great point - and one that I see here. So many people on this blog alone share things that change lives, that give hope, that shape perspective. While you miss being a great actress (although I heartily second the community theater route!), or a great novelist, or a great musician, those hopes perhaps don’t quite let you see the impact that you do have.
Comment by Enna — March 10, 2010 @ 11:07 am
Roxanna - whenever I move to a new city I usually start with colleges and community theaters. Although a google search of ‘city name community theater’ usually works pretty well, too
Comment by Enna — March 10, 2010 @ 11:08 am
sorry, that was supposed to be college and community colleges…
Comment by Enna — March 10, 2010 @ 11:08 am
Singing was my thing growing up. I wasn’t much into the classical style, but I loved to sing jazz, pop, and soul. My parents couldn’t afford lessons or the fees for participating in community musical theater, so it was just one of those things that I kept going at until I was no longer good enough for it. That is, I got all the solos in the music concerts at school. I seriously believed for years that I was headed straight for Broadway because I had raw talent.
When I moved to a new city in high school, it was a city where people took the arts a lot more seriously, and there was a lot more money going into that sort of thing. The girls in my choir all had rich parents who were able to pay for lessons, and all of their voices were far more trained than mine. What’s more, many had had years of dancing and acting training where I had none. My raw voice wasn’t good enough to compete.
For a while I was in denial and I figured that I would raise my own money for lessons, but of course that never worked out. I came to college as an Art History major with University Chorale (that is, the no-audition choir) on the side, but that quickly dropped out of my life. Dabbling in singing made it worse. For me, it was better to just forget about it and move on. I don’t even like to sing the hymns in church much any more.
The only times it ever gets to me is when people (family, old friends, teachers from the old days) ask me if I’m still singing.
Yes, I mourn the loss of that path and the fact that that raw talent may have been wasted. I guess I cope by throwing myself into my current academic pursuits and trying to be as engaged as I can in the visual art world. In art history, you don’t have to go in against people who have the unfair advantage of being trained since age five. It doesn’t matter how rich your parents were. I feel like this is something I can excel in, and therefore, that’s where my energy goes.
Comment by AllieKay — March 10, 2010 @ 12:17 pm
Has anyone seen Revolutionary Road? This post and the suggestions to pursue community theater are giving me flashbacks of its opening scenes.
I went through many of these same feelings when we decided to spend our money on IVF treatments instead of sending me to grad school. I am so glad to have my son, can’t imagine my life without him, but I do wonder sometimes about the missed opportunities that came along with that choice. Is it wishful thinking to hope that this is what eternity is for?
Comment by Chelsea — March 10, 2010 @ 1:34 pm
And on a side note, one of my friends from high school was nominated for an Oscar this year! It was so fun to see him on the screen and hear his name mentioned.
Comment by Chelsea — March 10, 2010 @ 1:36 pm
I think the atonement comes into play with this. Christ suffered for all our pain, including such anguish. I found I have learned to be content, and amazed at what life has brought, even though it wasn’t what I wanted.
When I was young, I was the best ballet dancer in my cohort. However, around 6th grade when I should have progressed into toe shoes and a higher level, my parents decided they couldn’t afford it. Years later, when I was living in Brazil, our ward was doing a Japanese fan dance for a stake cultural night, and I was only one of 4 women to perform (from several dozen who auditioned). It was great, I didn’t have to wrestle with the language, just follow the movements. I grew so close to those women through the rehearsals and performance. I was so grateful for that talent.
Then I started writing and wanted to work for a first-class newspaper. But I had to switch majors when I had children. However, when I was in my 40s, my small-city editorial page editor invited me to lunch, and asked me to be a part-time editorial writer. It was light-years from working for WashPo, but it was kinda fun eating shrimp salad in the best restaurant in town, people stopping by to talk to the editor, etc. And it really was fun to shape the public discussion of our town, write election endorsements, etc.during those years.
At age 30, I found a new career doing research, and I’ve done that off and on through the years. In my 40s, I was offered a nice fellowship to get my PhD (which I turned down, but it was an opportunity that opened up after I thought that path was closed). Recently I was nominated to run for the executive board of my professional organization. I won’t have election results for a few more weeks, but even being nominated is an honor from my peers. If I’m elected, I’ll be sitting at a table with the best people in the field. I’m not one–my own published studies tend to be modest. But I guess that would be like having a seat in the auditorium for the Oscars.
And realistically, I guess acting may not provide second chances the way writing or art or other things that can be done later in life.
But mostly I’m amazed at the blessings and opportunities, even though there have been times earlier in my life when I could have written the same thing.
Comment by Naismith — March 11, 2010 @ 1:17 pm
Wow, Naismith! That is awesome.
Comment by Melissa P. — March 11, 2010 @ 6:41 pm