I’ve been pushing carts, bagging groceries and processing thousands of transactions during my post-high school years. Initinally, I enjoyed this. Back in 2010, when I was a part-time student a Reading Area Community College, with no much else to do, I was actually looking forward to my next, Friday night, 6:00 pm to close shift as a concession cashier at Carmike Cinemas. I got to catch up with my co-workers, enjoy limited popcorn and drink and was able to feel a tad bit more independence than I had the previous year.
Today, I recognize that doing, what it is that I’m doing now, compiles nothing more than a hamster wheel. In doing these things, in continuing to any sort of work which requires me to wear a nametag, I feel small; washed out. That’s not to say that my intention to become a screenwriter rotates around making gobs of money and living the easy life. I feel as though I have some genuinely good ideas I can contribute to this medium.
But much unlike most people who go to college, I am not pursuing this for the finish line. I am doing this to get as far away from the starting point as I can. My greatest fear is to die, never having made an impact on the world, almost like roadkill. You ever look at a doe’s corpse on the side of road and let it ruin your day? Most likely not. But in hindsight, we do it with beings amongst our own species everyday. What does a meager Home Depot paint department associate have that’ll be missed when gone? Probably lots of things…but who would know? How could anyone know when his choice career was one in which he merely stirred and presented different colors of pretentiously titled paper to patron all day?
It doesn’t have to be this way. I hope, for my own sake, that it isn’t.