Last weekend, in traditional Bayville 4th of July fashion, I drank way too many PBRs, had too many conversations I will never remember, allegedly saw some fireworks, fell-off a diving board, slept on a kitchen table, ate a record breaking amount of linguine and red velvet cake with my bare hands, went to the beach and did not answer a single email.
So I was pretty thrown when a guy I grew up with jokingly told me how he thought that I thought I was too good for this place. In his defense, he did not really mean it, or at least not in its full veracity - it was said jokingly with a smile and easy eyes while drinking. In the moment I made a joke of it, however, it settled with me and a week back here - I am still thinking about it.
Maybe it is because its an idea I’ve been thinking and exploring a lot lately: the idea of having a life with new people and passions – surpassing accepted norms – and to what extent does that take you away from where you came from. My most recent play, SonnyBoy, asks – does finding a new you force you to let go of your roots? I mean you have to let go of some to make room for the new, right? Only keep what’s important? – but at the same time these choices would not exist if it was not for where you started. And even when you make room for the new – you are still a culmination of all the old experiences both good and bad – unless some Clive Wearing shit happens to you, but doubtful.
…LIKE BABIES are so incredibly frightening because they are these little blank slate alien creatures who eventually become at minimum semi-functioning adults with lots of hair and problems, but none of that would happen if it was not for where you came from. If you did not have your roots – if you were not raised by certain people, in a particular environment with relative experiences. For me – I was raised in a family of hardworking, honest people. We had cats, dogs, lizards, a back yard, bikes, scooters, stitches, BBQs, relatives, and most importantly responsibilities. We were taught hard work pays off and that some will have to work harder than others. These roots are intertwined with memories of the most caring friends I have ever known, and vicious fights, and boyfriends, and boys that were not boyfriends, and drinking, and family that lived around to corner. I have experienced having tough skin and quick whit, running from the cops, being fucked over, people fucking up, people being intolerant and people getting stuck.
These are my roots. This is what I have to stand on - they have been dug deep, planted and nurtured and thus, can now flourish. Yes, they still affect my everyday – the way I see others, jobs I take on, relationships I build, decisions I make, my predilection for certain types of men, my habits, my work ethic and my passions. I am still a person who prefers beer, loves the beach, hates shoes and underwear, can curse like sailor, thinks men should fix things, works hard and puts community before most things. But right now, I am also a person who has discovered there is more for me than where I began. I want to challenge myself and take risks – surpass what is normal. I want to embrace those who are different than me and learn from them – to make a bunch of small differences in the people I meet and jobs I have. I want to have a career that is not centered around money and weekends off – and to truly do what I love.
So maybe I come off as different, but never too good. There is no such thing. I am living a new chapter – but I am still what I come from just as much as I am what is coming next.