A Yellow Roman Candle

November 23, 2014

              I’m telling you, growing up is no walk in the damn park.

              I’m going to share an excerpt from something I wrote in the minutes just after purchasing my plane ticket to Seattle. I had just hung up with the guy who owned the film crew I met in Ecuador. In the back of a canoe in the middle of the rainforest, he had offered me a paid internship to learn video production in Seattle. I’ve never had any real experience in production. I was about to sign 8 years of my life away to the Army Guard. I had no idea where I was going with my life. But I get this offer and I can’t say no. That offer was more than a job or a next step: it was someone who believed in what I am capable of, and was willing to make the effort and take the risk to push me to my potential. When you meet someone like that, don’t let them go. So we’re on the phone, home from Ecuador, and I’m asking him the logistics of moving out to Seattle. “We have an office with a microwave and a couch,” he explained. “We can try and get you a gym membership so you have a place to shower, and we’ll pay you for your first project so you have enough money to get started.” I’m smiling at the reality of this situation. “That’s all we can guarantee. It won’t be easy, but something tells me you can handle that.” Hell yes I can handle that.

“If I’m going to pack up everything I have and move 3,000 miles away, I only need guaranteed security and guaranteed money to get me started,” I tell him.

“I can guarantee those things,” he says firmly. And with that, he gives me his credit card information so I can book the ticket.

“Is this what trust is?” I ask, shocked that he freely gave me such sensitive information already.

He responded: “If not now, then when?”

So I booked the ticket. I’d been home from Ecuador for 3 days. I booked the ticket for the following week.

I’ll never forget the feeling I had in that moment.

“August 19, 2014

Remember this moment. Remember the moment where you took a chance. You saw a brilliant shining light on the horizon, and you gathered your things, said your good-byes, and you stepped out in pursuit of it. It shone vaguely and glimmered so dramatically there were times when it was all but gone. But it shone, and you followed.

You just booked your ticket. Tomorrow, you will clean out the bedroom at your parents’ house. Next week, you will pack all of your belongings into a suitcase, and in eight days, you will hop on a one-way flight to the west coast to pursue the shining light on the horizon. You will sleep in an office, shower at a gym, and eat at the tables of the people who care about you.

And you will shine. If you didn’t believe that, you wouldn’t be writing this right now.

And even if you don’t believe it, there’s no going back now.”

              I’m being all reflective because tomorrow I go home for Thanksgiving. It will be my first time home since moving here, and even though it’s only been 3 months, I’ve grown and learned and changed so much that it will feel like it has been much longer. And in honor of Thanksgiving, I’m grateful. I’m grateful to God for giving me the opportunity to achieve my dreams, and to my bosses for seeing potential in me and making sacrifices on their end to help me attain it, and to my parents for their sacrifice and ceaseless support, and to my sister and my friends who have remained connected to me even though we are thousands of miles away. I couldn’t have done it without any of them.

              And yes, I’m listening to the Gladiator soundtrack, so please excuse all these sentiments. Got me in my Honey Nut Feelios.