The Magic Feather

My mind is spent so much on "What's going to happen after this coming year?"

Grad School is something to look into. I'm also looking into LaGuardia Community College for an Associates Degree to be a Veterinary Technician. Maybe "Reporting Live" or "Goodnight, Stranger" (unlikely) will land on the desk of some big time producer who will say to me what Merrick said to Herman, "Kid, you have a show!" (with a bowler hat and cigar). Maybe I end up moving in with my parents and enter my quarter life crisis. By the way, I never heard of that term until a week ago, and frankly it sounds kind of stupid. I understand that it's going to be IMMENSELY difficult to leave Academia and enter reality. But frankly, Academia is reality. It's reality the entire time you are alive. I don't mean to get existential or anything like that, but I have to believe that to call it a quarter life crisis (A.) assumes you will live to be 90 or 100, (B.) states that this time in your life that is a crisis deserves a title, unlike the "middle school crisis" or the "teething crisis", (C.) or is a term that is telling you that you SHOULD be having a crisis.

...also, I haven't entered this part of my life. And the fact that I'm worried about it with a year to go could be a sign that it's a very real thing. But for now, I'm going to believe that it isn't.

When I was in high school, I heard the statistic that 98% of high school theater students do not pursue the endeavor with success. When I told this to a dumb blonde at my school she sincerely responded, "Well, I'm going to be one of the percents... you can be the other." (No joke)

One night at dinner with my parents, my dad asked me the undesirable question, "What IS college doing to prepare you for life post-graduation?" The reason this moment is noteworthy is because up until now, my dad has fully explained to me over and over again that college is where you can invest much of your time in discovering yourself and what you want to do. He and my mom have always said that I should learn about what interests me, and not worry about what the degree is. Well... graduation is one year away, and now the question is on their minds too.

I got drinks with the delectable Cassie Spangler and Jennifer Laudia a little over a week ago. Cassie made an interesting comment. She said, "I'm actually not concerned about any of my friends being successful after college." She explained how she believes that she is surrounded by genuinely smart, talented, and heartfelt individuals. And frankly, I feel the same. I know that Dylan is going to be successful after graduation just because of how damn smart he is, and how much passion is in his soul. My close friends at PHTS are finding ways to keep themselves busy by working with more and more professional venues in the city. Tyler is a brilliant playwright. Jen is an astonishing director (more than she realizes). I'm surrounded by bright and talented human beings. I'm not worried about them. So should I be worried about myself?

The answer is yes. Worry is good. Not too much though. But still, it's good. I've seen maybe 3.4 Batman cartoons in my lifetime, but I distinctly remember one in which there was a strange case about a man who lost all ability to fear. In result, he jumped off a building and he died. I have no idea what that episode was, but damn it taught me a lot when I was younger (I'm sure Tyler can name the episode).

I don't know. I just have to believe that if you are smart, compassionate, self-aware, and have developed just the right amount of skill, you can do more than you've ever dreamed. Sounds like it's from a Disney movie, and it is. Just pick one. It's probably from it. Let's look at one for example. In "Dumbo", that fricken elephant refuses to let go of that damn feather. One of the most climactic moments in cinematic history (at least in my mind as a child) was when Timothy and Dumbo jump off the burning building during one of their final performances. They are plunging at such a high speed that the "Magic Feather" slips right out of the elephants trunk. Timothy begins screaming at Dumbo in terror and desperation, "Dumbo! Come on! Fly! Open them ears! The magic feather was just a gag! You can fly, honest you can! Hurry, open them up! Please!" And with only a millisecond to spare, Dumbo opens his ears and soars for the first time.

It's a blatant metaphor. I know. But a fucking good one at that. I don't think I need to spell it out for you, but I will anyways. Blah blah blah, we all have our magic feathers, blah blah blah, if we all just opened our ears we can soar to new heights. I actually just said nothing new. It's not even a metaphor. Just factual. By the end of the movie, Dumbo is a worldwide sensation and is able to fly all on his own. The final images show Dumbo's mother sitting in the back of a train, waving a handkerchief to her son, who is flying in close distance above the train. He then swoops down and embraces his mother.

There's truly a heartfelt point to this. We will always have people there to support us, people who will be there when we can't necessarily fly on our own. But as long as we know that we always have the potential to, there isn't anything worth stopping us. One of the greatest songs I can think of is sung in the beginning of film. You all know it. "Baby Mine". It's potentially one of the saddest songs in a Disney film. Dumbo's mother is locked up, chained to the ground. Dumbo and Timothy snuck up one night, and the only way they can touch is when their trunks are stretched out, and hers becomes wrapped around his. The instant moment of this touch brings Dumbo to tears (don't forget, Dumbo at this point is still nothing less than a baby). One of the lyrics includes "Rest your head close to my heart / Never to part, baby of mine." In the beginning it feels like a song about a mother holding onto her child. But by the end of the movie, it ends up being much more metaphorical than lyrical. And that, is a truly beautiful and astonishing thing.

I should stop worrying. Of course, not entirely.

I miss my friends, and I miss you. (Norbert and Cody do too.)

If you get a chance, take a listen to "Baby Mine" it might bring you such comfort or it will break your heart. Either way, it's bound to do something.