As a tech kid in college I hung a good bit of lights and equipment in high places. I carried a wrench with me on a daily basis. I used power tools. I used a lathe once, after asking what a lathe was. I openly faked my way through using computer software I didn't understand. And today...I don't do any of those things.
Now this isn't a weepy "I can't find work in my field" tale. My senior year I realized this goal of "lighting designer" I thought I wanted for four years was, in fact, a huge mistake on my part. I had been working hard (I thought) towards this goal but I had to face facts: I enjoyed very little of what I was doing. The computer aspect confused me and the physical demands were never my forte. I'm afraid of heights! I wouldn't reach out to focus a light if I felt unsafe. What, I'm going to risk falling to my death or severe paralysis so a handful of assholes can watch The Crucible? That's ridiculous.
This isn't about that choice, however (I've talked about that a lot in the past). The tie line thing, while small and excusable, made me think about how little I'd actually retained from college. In that quick moment, it felt like my entire four years of school had been deleted from my memory. I can barely remember what it felt like to be Theater Major Isaac, although I remember he felt a lot of anxiety and lost a lot of sleep. The few times I tell people I went to school for lighting I get embarrassed, afraid they'll ask a question I won't know the answer to, because I haven't had to for years now. It's bizarre to me how much I've changed since then, although I do think I'm better this way.
I'm not the only one who's changed though. All around me (on the Internet) I see classmates who are definitely not where they thought they'd be in college. A lot of them don't do theater; whether or not they made that choice or had it forced upon them I can't say. Some have jobs in totally different fields. Some are going to grad school in other subjects. Some have families now. Some lost the family they had. Some of them seem happy. Some of them don't.
And then there are the ones that majored in theater, were good at it, graduated (with honors if they weren't me), moved away, found work, and love what they're doing. I am so genuinely happy for them, but also fuck you for getting it right on your first shot while being under thirty. I mean good for you and all, but you're making the rest of us look like morons.
I joke, though. Life is weird and time changes things. Two totally unoriginal statements that have really dawned on me lately. If I told college Isaac what I was doing now, well I'd probably add more stress and sleepless nights to his life. But I sleep better now. Sure I have some bad times (who doesn't?), but on the whole I don't worry about the future like College Isaac did. He was worried he'd never find a theater job, which is a fair concern since some others a lot better than him have had little success.
I work two part-time jobs that on a light week get me thirty hours a week. On a heavy week it can get to over fifty. I have no "benefits" but I like what I do, plus I have time to write and to make jokes. Although I frequently hear peers talk about getting "real jobs", a phrase that makes me want to scream and cry. I'm sick of people referring to the jobs I have as not "real jobs". I spend my time and energy there. I support myself on the money I make. I'm real. Why is it never fucking enough? My roommate refers to a "real job" as a job where she can use her degree, a way of thinking I'm sure others share. I can't think like that though, because by that definition I will never have a real job and therefore I'll constantly be doubting my own existence.
It's hard not to worry about the future. It's wise to plan ahead, but if you worry too much about the future you may get so anxious you'll fuck up your present. As uninteresting as my life may seem on paper, I must say I'm enjoying myself more than Lighting Designer Isaac would. He could be an alcoholic from the constant disappointment of not finding work. He could be dead from falling off a light grid. Or he could have found work but be deeply unsatisfied with how he feels about what he's doing. That may be the worst option (just kidding, death is the worst option).
So it's weird, but I'm not embarrassed that I forgot about tie line. It may have been only four years, but really tie line was relevant to me a whole lifetime ago. So excuse me while I take my last piece of the thick black string and let the winds of time blow it out of my hand. I encourage any friends who are worried about letting go of the tie line in their lives to do the same. Some things, like tie line or a degree, seem really important. But we don't always have to use them. It's scary, it's weird, but it's also okay.
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