Henrik Ibsen was a playwright who focused on the concept of the pipedream and how people lied to themselves to get through their dreary lives. It’s a common theme for theatre, shows like The Iceman Cometh and Death of a Salesman hinging on the failure of those goals. The pipedream, in my mind, is different than the failed dream because the dreamer has always known in the back of his mind that it will never happen. This is why if you ever want someone to leave you alone, the quickest route is to say, “You want to write something for my lit journal/take a cover photo/act in my theatre production?” and you’ll never hear from them again. Pipedreamers won’t flee from the first step.
You know what I hate most about pipedreams? People determining that that’s what your goals are really. They don’t take you seriously when you say you’re going to do something, and no matter how determined you are, that lack of faith will always bring you down. In my life I’ve actively tried to do whatever I say I’m going to do because I want people to take me seriously.
With that, it’s very hard to admit that after all I’ve said, I’m not moving to New York. Not now anyway.
It was not a pipedream. I was actually going to do it. My stuff is sitting around me in boxes. I bought audio books for the drive. I’ve made temporary living arrangements and plans to meet with people, tepidly sold my car. I was going to go.
But shit happens.
I’m, unfortunately, not going to explain what exactly occurred that changed my mind because it doesn’t involve just me, and if I’m going to gossip it should be like God intended and kept strictly behind their backs without text-based evidence to screw me later. Believe me, if it was just my life, I’d be all over boring you with every inane and sarcastically colored detail.
Something changed, and so with it, my mind. Honestly, if you’ve read my other blogs on the subject, you will probably be able to put two-and-two together. But that’s all I’ll say for now.
But I want everyone who supported me (which I really appreciated) to know this: I am happy with my decision. There are negatives to staying, but there were negatives to going. My choice to move was based on a whim. “I’m unhappy. I need to do something about it. What are my options?” I do think I would like New York, but I’m pretty cheerful now anyway. Which was pretty much all I wanted.
And I don’t see it as being off the table. Now is pretty much the easiest time in my life for me to go, but it doesn’t mean that I won’t be able to later if I decide to. I’m not worried.
In the end there’s only two things that bother me about this decision: One, that I have to admit that all my talk is now officially white-noise, and two, how long can I avoid unpacking again?