Mormons and Boy Bands.

So I had this realization the other day—in a suit and tie, hair slicked back I look like a little Mormon boy. All I needed was a bible and a black backpack. I guess this should be that much of a surprise given my baby face but nonetheless it was jarring. Living in LA, it is a rare job which involves a tie or even a dress shirt so it not something that I am comfortable in doing. Of course, the question is why I was doing it. A job interview, one of the few truly unfun things I have to do in life. It was for this paper and selling ad space to local business. In a moment of rebellion I decided not to wear the tie but instead went in a cute dress suit and suit jacket with khakis. I blew into the interview and felt more confident than more normal. The interview was fun and good but only because I discovered that the day uses free writers and that I could possibly propose an idea for a column. Of course, that wasn’t the real point of the afternoon, employment was. I think I did a god bluff job of wanting the position but it has gotten me to wondering about the line. The line that all artists face at some point, to either be financially secure or continue to work McJob as one chases their dream. It’s a hard thing to understand if one doesn’t have a passion or calling but I’m also starting to see the other side of the picture. I know that there are people in my life who think I am chasing waterfalls and not being realistic about things. That even though I have had a few successes that it is getting close to the time to settle down. Turn myself into something that can be molded for the future. That if I want marriage and a family then I have to get serious about getting things down financially but it is hard. I have known my whole life that I want to be a writer. I can still remember the first story I wrote in 3rd grade about a young couple stumbling on to mystery and mayhem. Blame “General Hospital” but I was very into fantasy at the time in my life and surprised my teacher with a story of ill fated love and suicide set against a foreign backdrop. But the most powerful memory growing up was the first story I wrote for myself and realizing that I loved just sitting in front of a blank page and just going to town. It is difficult to realize that in order to have everything else perfect in life; a man, a family, a nice house and the ability to enjoy it—that I have to give up so much. I just wish that it was easier than this. I shouldn’t have to give up one just have another. I guess the deal is to just keep pushing forward and believe that I am doing the right thing… It just gets hard sometimes. On a side note, as I was leaving my interview I ran into Kevin from the Backstreet Boys. This is like my 3rd run in with him in the last 3 months. I am fully expecting him to scream out “Stalker!” next time he sees me.