Story on Failure
City: Los Angeles
I blasted my music, drank Kahlúa out of a teacup, and danced around in my bra.
When I first moved to California seven years ago, I was fresh out of college, very green to the outside world, and not prepared for the enormous amount of growth ahead of me – but are we ever ready? I drove to San Diego on a solo journey with everything I owned in my car. I worked at DSW and a family friend’s restaurant while I got on my feet and applied to numerous marketing jobs. Nothing would budge; I wasn't getting by financially, and the gig at the restaurant was coming to an end. I was going on one disastrous interview after the next.
After one really bad interview I came home at my wits’ end not knowing how I was going to last another month in San Diego without calling it quits and going back to Oregon. I blasted my music, drank Kahlúa out of a teacup, and danced around in my bra, because who cares if it's two in the afternoon when you're bombing interviews like it's a talent? Then my boss at the restaurant called to tell me she wasn't going to need me anymore. I knew that job was coming to a natural end and I was relieved to leave, but now I really didn't know how I would be able to stay in San Diego and live my California dream.
A week or so later, I got a call back for a marketing job and also a call back for a paid production of a play I had auditioned for. I was ecstatic. For the next two months, I worked full time at my marketing job and spent every evening at rehearsal preparing for the play.
It was the most invigorating time, experiencing my first adult job in marketing and realizing I could get paid to do my art. And I learned about myself. I quickly understood marketing was a means to an end and left me deprived of any passion, whereas the play prompted me to move to LA and become a full-time artist.
What appeared to be my life falling apart that day I danced around my apartment drinking Kahlua from a teacup was just a plot twist that pushed me toward my true path.