I just finished reading an interview with RuPaul on Vulture.
The article is fun and entertaining, but a couple of points were brought up
that got me thinking: have I figured it out yet?
Let me bullet the points which caught my attention:
·
"I
don't really care about the younger generation. The truth is, they're on their
own. They'll figure it out."
·
"Because
you get to a point where if you're smart and you're sensitive, you see how this
all works on this planet. It's like when Dorothy looks behind the curtain.
Like, 'Wait a minute. You're the
wizard?' And you figure out the hoax."
The article revolves around the drag-scene, and well worth
the read even if, like me, you're nowhere near the drag scene. So, how the hell
does RuPaul connect with me? His matter-of-fact presentation that we are
responsible for our own destinies. And lately, I've been fighting myself with
where I fit into it all.
I'm a straight, white male. In the American narrative, I'm a
figurative boogeyman because of how I was born. It feels like, to be accepted,
I must agree 100% with feminists, the LGBTQ community, atheists, and the
government. I've tried, and I've tried to fight against everybody. In neither
case did I find who I am, or what direction to run in. Am I ruined?
NO! And neither are you. The world would be a horrid place
if everybody agreed on everything. We would, in essence, be robots. Yuck. I
mean cyborgs would be cool, maybe. But not a robot. If you run into a thought
or process you don't agree with, you are not required to change. You can stick
to your guns.
Sticking
to My Guns
I haven't worked a 9-5 job in over two years. I decided to
write stories instead. In those two-plus years, I've released 3 stories. In
financial terms, they were utter flops. To make money, I began freelance
writing; and tried to turn it into a viable business. My family is living off a
single, always-there, income plus whatever I manage to dredge up. For a while,
I felt like a complete failure. I stuck with it, hoping it was just a slump.
The failures continued to stack, I swam into depression, and
started doing little in the way of finding business. Finally, I told my friends
and family I had failed…it's time to join the 9-5 club once again. Several
agreed, vehemently. "Dude, it's way past time. I'm proud of you for making
this decision." I don't talk to these people anymore. All they look at is
the financial side of things. All they see are missing dollar signs and a guy
who "just isn't hungry enough to make it."
The friends and family who matter, my tribe if you will, are
the ones who lifted me up. Those who said, "Yeah, sure, get a job. But
don't give up on your stories." The ones who guided me away from
depression by explaining something I had not seen: I didn't fail. I tried and
didn't reach certain goals. I wrote three stories, and published them. That was the original goal! To write
stories and share them with the world. I get to call myself an author, even if
I'm an author who hasn't reached his stretch goals yet.
Did I fail to start a business? Yeah, okay, I'll accede to
that truth. However, I get to stand at the forefront of people who wrote a
novel, edited it, poured over it night and day, and turned it into something
worth reading. Okay, I'm biased. I admit that, too.
Other
Lessons
In failing to start a business, I learned a few more truths.
I don't care to write other people's narratives for them. I love stories. Corporate
numbers and algorithms and ROI are not interesting to me. If they wanted me to
write a blog focusing on the successes of their customers or employees, that
would be interesting. Another keyword-infested article about random product
A-Z? No.
I also realized that nobody has to care about you. It's not
their job to look over you, make sure you're doing what you need to succeed.
For most of us, there is a dreadfully short list of people that care about our
success. The job of earning what we want, and finding our personal truths,
belongs to ourselves. Our journeys are of finding individualism, and its place within
the narrative that keeps society going. And being civil to each other during,
and after, the process.
The hoax that permeates the world is that, in our
individualism, we are separate from each other. The journey is about finding
ourselves, but joining into the whole as we come to understand. Understand
what?
The individual person is a divided part of the whole. We
were never meant to be separated. We aren't supposed to suffer when in contact
with the whole. Right now it seems, each of us is the wizard hiding behind the
curtain. We've been tricked into vying for control in order to feel safe. I
don't need to agree with you 100%, and I don't want to. Different ideas aren't
walls, they are dots in a mosaic, single notes in the World Song. But, I can't
tell you. You need to figure it out for yourself. I wish you well.
James
Neal is the author of three stories:
a
dark fantasy novel on Amazon
a dark fantasy novella on Amazon &
Divine Right (linked to
Smashwords); a free fantasy short story available on Smashwords, Kobo, Barnes
and Noble, iTunes, and other digital bookstores.
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