Happy Tuesday! Did you have a nice breakfast?
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I have brilliant friends. Last night one of my nearest and dearest friends came to visit me at the new flat, and if seeing her were not enough of a treat, she brought three different types of cheese with her. What a legend.
Over said cheese and a lot of diet coke, we discussed the whys and wherefores of our current life situations. These are somewhat complicated to say the least.
Where are we going? What are we doing? Where on earth has my phone charger gone? Being in your mid-twenties is characterised by asking a lot of futile questions, and even though we can postulate and theorise and debate, it’s no big secret that none of us have any answers.
That’s ok. It really is. We are not supposed to know what we’re doing: we’re supposed to know by now what we want to be doing. By that I don’t mean that we need to have planned out the next five, ten or twenty years of our lives. I mean that we need to know what we want to be doing right now, and be working towards it. We need to know ourselves well enough to be honest about who we are and what really motivates us, whether or not we think that it’s financially viable or approved of by our parents.
I have no idea what my thirty-year-old self will want from life. I haven’t the foggiest idea what my forty or fifty-year-old selves will be gunning for, either (although an educated guess tells me that it will probably be “more cheese” on all three counts). What I do know is that I have ambitions and hopes and vague aspirations, and that all of these are achievable if I am willing to have (literally) cheesy conversations with the people who know me best and love me the most.
For example, last night was the first time that I admitted out loud how freaked out I am about writing my next play. Chris is Dead went down so well at Edinburgh and got such an amazing response from audiences that I am genuinely terrified of writing another script. Have I peaked already? Do I have anything else worthwhile to say? What if from now on everything I write is utter drivel and doesn’t resonate with anyone at all?
No one can say for certain that that won’t turn out to be the case, mostly because I haven’t started writing another play yet. But my cheese-bearing friend knew that, even though she can’t foresee the future, her opinion of me matters and her optimism on my behalf is a very valuable piece of encouragement.
I can’t tell you not to worry about the future. We are living in an age when we are made to feel like 25 is (professionally speaking) the new 40, and that if you don’t know what you’re doing by now then you have already failed. That isn’t true, by the way. But we all feel that way from time to time, and the key to getting through it is to be worried, feel nervous, and get stressed: the vital second half of that plan is to let someone who loves you allay your fears. They know you well enough to make you feel better about it, and that is what will keep you going.
Have a stupendous day. If your breakfast wasn’t all that, have an extra delicious lunch.