He didn’t bring it up. Not until one month before I said I was leaving.
“So what’s your plan for this going out to Los Angeles-thing?” That’s what my father called it. The “going out to Los Angeles-thing.” He thought it more a pipe dream, one of my big-talk plans where I laced a fat juicy finger around the trigger but never succeeded in popping off a shot. Can’t blame him for it – it’s happened before. Not so often to call it a habit, exactly, but enough to half-anticipate it. Or to dub it a “-thing,” hyphen required.
Except everyday, the inevitability of this particular –thing drew ever closer. Clothes were getting sorted, then either rolled into tight little tubes and nestled into duffle bags, or slipped into large blue bins and stored away for a garage sale in that not-too-distant future. Rand McNally found a regular time spot into my schedule, and like a bastard child, I spent more time with him on our first day together than I ever spent in the past.
What really triggered the question, though, were the questions others asked him about my departure, questions to which he didn’t have answers for. Questions he wasn’t prepared for because he still thought it was just a –thing.
And he was very slowly realizing it was a little more than that.
There’s no real plan, I admitted. Drive out there, find an apartment, and get a job waiting tables to hold me over while I write. That’s it.
“How long you think you’ll be able to do that for?”
Until the money runs out.
“When do you think that’ll be?”
I shrugged. Maybe a year or so. I’m not sure.
He hesitated, teetering between not pissing on what he still considered his son’s pipe dream, and pistol-whipping him across the face with a dose of reality, good and strong, so good you could see the onomatopoeia flash across his eyes, like the old school Batman live-action show.
“You’re taking a big risk here, Ming. You know, I have 100 percent confidence that you can do anything you set yourself to do. And I know you have to take risks to get where you want to be in life, but make those calculated risks.” He shook his head. “This just seems like a big, unnecessary risk.”
Most fathers, somewhere along the Parenthood Timeline, acquire a Speech that renders any of their sons’ brilliant notions appear to be the Stupidest Idea Ever Conceived. These speeches may have different names, (“These Are the Reasons Why You’re an Idiot”-speech, or “Did I Really Raise You to be This Dumb?”-speech) but are all generally made up of the same texture – sticky, with shades of shame.
“You’re moving out for the first time, and you’re going someplace far away from your family and friends, a place where you have no support if something happens to you. You don’t have a job, the job market is bad and the economy is worse. And you want to go into a field you didn’t study and have zero experience in.
“If this is what you want to do, I fully support it. But why not wait? Take time getting established in your field here first, where you have support; then, when you have something set up for yourself, make the move out to Los Angeles.”
I knew waiting was important. There were important things to wait for – not a lot, but a few – and I spent the last year waiting for those pieces to fall in place. “Getting established” never made the list.
Wait for the money – not some arbitrary number in the bank, but go crunch the numbers, and save enough to last you a few months. Clear your consumer credit if you can, or get it down to manageable payments. Wait until you manage your finances, and not the other way around. If your financial house isn’t in order, and you got some consumer credit hanging over your head, it will eventually bury you.
Wait till you find someone – a friend, a colleague – who wants to do the same thing, who’s interested in the same line of work. One friend who’d make a good roommate goes a long way – cuts costs in half, another set of feet and eyes when it’s time to find work, and company to explore and commiserate with. Find someone who compliments you, who balances out your strengths and weaknesses while you take on this endeavor; it’ll go a long way.
Most importantly, wait until you know. Wait until you know you must do this, that there’s no other choice. The advice of countless other artists, from painters to writers to actors to everything in between, I’ll repeat here: if there’s anything else you’ve given thought to doing, if there’s anything else you think you might be even pretty good at, and can make a living doing, go do that instead. Don’t come after this unless you know it’s the only thing you want and you’re willing to give up everything to go get it. Unless you know that it’s what you were meant to do.
Then, there are plenty of things not worth waiting for: don’t wait for that arbitrary number, figures you heard quoted that offer no reasoning behind them. Figure out what your number is, and stick to that. Not, “Oh, save $10,000, or $15,000, and then you’ll be ready.” Money in the bank is relative – what one person can accomplish with $10,000 the guy to his right could do with $10, and the guy to his left would never be able to accomplish at all.
Don’t wait to secure an apartment, or a job. How will you manage the task from the other side of the country? At 3,000 miles, how much, in time alone, will you have to invest just to find prospects? It’s not like walking down the street, and taking the Help Wanted sign off the door, or passing by the For Rent posting in the middle of a drive. Besides that, who’s going to take you seriously? If you were serious, you’d be out here, on foot, meeting face to face, and not exchanging e-mails about coming out to Los Angeles when your apartment or job is ready. If you were in their shoes, would you rent the space to you? Would you hire you?
Waiting until you’re established in a place where you don’t necessarily want to be, or where whatever you’re pursuing doesn’t thrive, or isn’t the epicenter, isn’t worth it. That approach just means you’re too scared to do it for real. Make the tradeoff, play the gambit: give up security for location and time. Security isn’t worth it; it costs too much. Settling for the security of home and you’re opening the door to let obstacles stand in your way. All those bad work habits, the complacency of the comfortable, stuck and uninspired by the familiar.
By not waiting, and putting yourself in the environment where your art thrives, you accelerate the process of establishing yourself exponentially. You eliminate distractions. Every day, you’re reminded what you came out here to do, why you’re here: you wake up in a new town, far from friends or family, with limited financial means, and all the comforts that brings. Every minute you don’t pursue your passion, don’t produce art, is a wasted one.
Even in the midst of our conversation, I can’t fault my father for his advice, and his line of thinking. There aren’t many people I imagine would listen to that “plan,” and not respond with the same “That’s-the-stupidest-thing-I’ve-ever-heard” speech.
But I think sometimes, the right ratios of “stupid,” “crazy,” and “dumb” can do serious good.
Photo Credit: Peter
