In the biography of my life, this is the part where I would complain about stagnation. I would bitch endlessly about dead ends, flakey connections and pointless networking. The name of the chapter would be frustration. After years of the same thing, perhaps it’s time I let go of the insanity and change things up. Or I should let patience rule the day and let my newly virtuous soul hope and wait. You tell me?
Back in February 2014 I published an article with a reputable newspaper. The team was very impressed with me and that opened doors to an opportunity to become a staff writer with the same company. The editor who got in touch told me that once I was done with school, we would make arrangements for that to happen. It took a while but eventually a meeting was scheduled for February 2015. The plan was to induct me using established columnists and I would write bylines with them, eventually leading the way to my becoming a contributor within their fraternity. And guess what he did after that? He went quiet. He wouldn’t return my calls, messages or emails. What’s a girl to do?
I tried my hand at sending in open call articles to magazines and what have yous. Yeah, that didn’t pan out a second time. I didn’t get any calls from impressed editors. I had to ask myself, was I a fluke? Is one-hit-wonder my new middle name?
The hindrances didn’t stop there. I have plenty of rich friends that have more connections than a Republican lobbyist. I told one of them of my situation and he decided to help me by hooking me up with one of his chief editor friends. My prayers were finally answered, right? No, first, my friend teased me. He told me to show up at a predetermined rendezvous point and he would pick me up from there then we would go to a meeting with his chief editor friend. I ended up standing in the sun for almost an hour.
Later on, he came through. A proper meeting was scheduled and I got a chance to speak with his chief editor friend. The chief editor seemed impressed. He said I would get a chance at the entry level interviews but he would stay with my credentials in case anything popped up. We ended the meeting with a scheduled follow up in January 2016. Come January 2016, the chief editor was unavailable and my friend couldn’t help.
There are mornings when I think about seeing my name in a magazine or a newspaper and I think to myself that I won’t give up. Someday, an editor or scout will be indubitably enthralled and I will get my shot. I go through the day hopeful and prayerful. Then there are other mornings that aren’t hopeful. This weekend, an 18 year old became the youngest person ever to win a Formula 1 race. I am 22 years old. What the hell am I doing with my life? I’m just stuck. Now on mornings like those, I am damn near suicidal.
Now you tell me what a girl’s to do. I have received advice from strangers, preachers and parents. Some have told me to bide my time and what I am hoping for will come to fruition. Others have told me to keep working and exposing myself then finally I will get what I want. The rest are of the wait until its God’s time camp. All three are right but it doesn’t negate the fact that I am still stuck. I don’t want to be stagnant any more. I’m not some pool for mosquito larvae to breed. I have no use for inactivity. But the questions still remain, how do I move forward?
I could change ambitions. But that feels dishonest. I could chase a foreign dream. Try my luck at a green card and move to America, the land of dreams- or maybe China. I could change vocations altogether. Find a unique dream where I could be the first to achieve something but record breaking is a slippery slope where I could end up attempting to break the record for longest pubic hair. And that would be disgusting and uncomfortable. I honestly don’t know what to do. All I know is, I have to come unglued from my stasis soon. If you have a how, I’m all ears.