Sara, grow up. You’re professional.
You’re not a fangirl. I really annoy myself sometimes, and it annoys me a lot
that I’m standing on this stage and I want to take pictures of the band
rehearsing to put on Facebook and brag to all my friends that I’m on stage with
the drummer from Red Hot Chili Peppers. No one else seems to care; Brad and
Jordan are setting up the cameras and Matt’s running around planning the shots
for this big event at University of Washington. Will Ferrell’s talking and some
musical people are playing, all to raise money for cancer survivors. Anyway, it’s
like no big deal when Brandi Carlile walks in and starts belting into the mic.
And then when the Guns n’ Roses guitarist comes in, and the bassist from the
Dave Matthews band starts strumming, followed by a sick guitar solo from Mike
McCready from Pearl Jam, you might as well be listening to the radio the way
everyone’s acting. I’m such a rookie.
Until they’re off stage. Then things
start changing… the mood of the room changes when these individuals walk
around. It’s like I’m fumbling around for a sand bag for my tripod and the wind
shifts, or the smell of the room changes, or the temperature rises a few
degrees, and you’re like, what just happened. Oh, hey, Will Ferrell’s here.
That’s what happened. Men that formerly stood tall and tact suddenly become
divas with tunnel-vision focused on this one particular person, and this person’s
every movement is important, every joke is hilarious, every nod or glance
envied or worshipped. I think it’s the hat. I really do. Every celebrity wears
a hat. I think more normal people should wear hats, to be honest.
“Hey Will! I’m Sara!” I say all
bright and cheery like I’m introducing myself to a friend’s new boyfriend. He’s
a little taken aback, probably because I swooped in out of the background right
after his meet-and-greet and nudged my way between his agent and the event
coordinator to shove my hand in his face. “Hi,” he says to me with a large,
questioning smile. He’s actually a pretty genuine dude. It makes me feel shy
but I’m going to go with it. “Just want to say thanks for coming out tonight!
That’s all!” and that’s what I say. There’s this awkward silence from everyone
after I say “that’s all” but he’s a nice guy so he recovers and says something
like “no problem” so I pat him on the arm real friendly and all, like meeting
celebrities is part of my day job, and tell him to have a great night. Okay.
Could have been worse. (I ended up joking with him a little bit before the
night ended. Yes. I shared a joke with Will Ferrell. I’m going to savor that.)
Anyway, so all my life I’ve had
these dreams. I grew up wanting a motorcycle and I finally saved up $300 to
take the class and get the license, and then I managed to get a little xt225
that was road certified but I had to put a few more hundred in to fix it up,
and then I had to register it and tag it and buy all my riding gear and it took
forever but I’ll never forget the way it felt to ride it legally on the road
for the first time. I rode it to lunch with my parents on my 21st
birthday, a real swanky place where they ordered champagne and Mom wore a
dress. I was thirty minutes late and I had to sneak into the bathroom with my
helmet and gear while my mom’s back was turned so I could throw on a dress and
then I had to hide my stuff behind the hostess counter. And then on the night I
first thought of the idea for Journey in their Shoes, the little non-profit I
run, I had this dream that one day it would be known and that people would get
behind its mission, and I saw myself being interviewed by important people
because of it and having the chance to get my message out. Then I found myself in
the Amazon rainforest with cameras in my face and Microsoft’s reporter
interviewing me for thirty minutes to get my story and my message. And there
was the feeling again of a dream realized.
You know, everyone says follow your
dreams, and I stand behind that. It’s a good mantra. Like I’ve said, success is
a choice and not an opportunity. But for me, I like to remember where I come
from. I like to look back on the younger me that cried when the popular girls
threw my underwear out the window in middle school, or the girl that had her
heart broken for the first time at fifteen, or the girl that wanted to drop out
of college in my last year because it was too overwhelming and I wasn’t very
emotionally stable. I like to remember those times because it makes the place I’m
in overwhelmingly satisfying. Not that I don’t ever feel that way anymore, I
do. I’m lonely, I’m insecure, and bless my poor roommate, I’m emotional. But I
had a dream once where I wanted to be someone important. I wanted to find a
place in the world that would give me the opportunity to share a message of
love. I wanted to be around people that have influence, because then that message
can reach further. And I wanted to get paid to do something that I love. I held
onto that dream and sacrificed a lot of certainty to be able to follow it. And
this moment happens, where I’m backstage with a camera and lots of important
people, and we’re watching a clip of Chris Smith and Will Ferrell on Jimmy Fallon,
and I realize that Chris Smith is next to me and Will Ferrell is 30 feet away
and holy crap. I’m living a dream. I never want to forget to stop and remember, because that happens really easily in this superficial film industry. You can get all caught up on where you have left to go and not how far you've come. I don’t ever want to get sucked into forgetting that every moment can be a
dream realized and even though I have more dreams to follow and more places to
go, I’m happy right here. I don’t know if I’ve ever experienced a better
feeling than contentment.
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