What haunts me? The opportunities missed, maybe?
Sometimes I think a little too hard about the film programs, rookie documentaries made with loaned equipment. Mom sometimes asks if I still have any of my old videos somewhere; I mounted our small digital camera and filmed two robots fighting in a city of blocks and crayon scribbles.
Working in a summer program, with the camera, the editing software, seeing the history and feeling the work, blood, sweat, tears that go into filming, it was exhilarating. Listening to the quick, brief friends I made there, their plans for their film careers, for screenplays, for the directorial debuts. I love movies, I love the history of film, and I thought maybe I could do it. Should I have tried harder? Looked at different schools?
People were always surprised and confused when I told them why I was going to ARGS. “Literary arts?” they’d ask. “Like… English?”
I’d just nod when I started getting used to it.
“… huh. Always thought you’d go into theatre.”
And I don’t blame them. How many elementary school plays? How many Disney movies did I know by heart, and how many did I reenact loudly, dramatically, arms waving and voice rising?
“I love writing,” I’d answer. “I love reading, I love literature. I’m good at it.
“You’re good at acting too. I think you’d have more fun with it.
Sometimes an older relative would ask me just what I expected to do with English. “I was hoping to become a teacher…”
I’m haunted by the response’s laugh.
“Why did you never audition for anything?” Dad asked me recently. I’m haunted by the want. Looking at audition lists, or hearing about open auditions. Wanting to go, itching to go. I could act, I can act, I could have done it, I should have at least tried.
I never did, of course. Too many people would laugh, or I would humiliate myself, or blah, blah, blah. Insert excuses here.
I love film, and I loved acting. I love English, and I want to be a teacher, an educator so bad, but sometimes…
Almost all of my former High School teachers, the ones I cared about enough to put on my Facebook wall, they complain. How bad, how broken the system is. How they regret. Am I on the right career path? I feel I am, mostly, but on the days a Practicum class is too riled, and all I hear is complaining and bitching and cynicism.
Am I wasting my time? I’m definitely haunted by that question. Did I mess up, did I take a wrong turn? Could I have done something else?
I didn’t look at any schools for film, or for art. I never looked past English and Education programs. I never felt like I had to.
These are hauntings, worries, but not truths. I don’t think so. I wouldn’t have worked so hard for something I wasn’t good at, something that wasn’t meant to be. I don’t think I would. But it’s a “think,” not a certainty. And that definitely haunts me.