another brick in the wall.

Each year, from November to June, the Amazon River floods. In some places, the distance between the banks increases from one mile to twenty-five miles as the water rises thirty feet or more. This phenomenon throws one hell of a curve ball to the animal inhabitants of the region as the terrestrial and the aquatic suddenly meet up one day and, like lookie-loos at a Sunday open house, explore each others neighborhoods with a mixture of curiosity and, I imagine, silent judgment.

Benefitting the most from the sudden move are the Tambaqui - a species of fish who swim inland during the River’s swollen months and, taking advantage of their heightened state, eat fruit from the now accessible trees. After months of krill these little gourmands, with their adventurous palates, enjoy some dessert.

The day I spoke with my manager, I hadn’t heard this story yet so after hanging up with him I took the script I’d worked on for months and threw it in the garbage can. Then I got into bed, assumed the crash position and wouldn’t even allow myself to consider a re-write. Every time I thought about what my manager had said, I saw a brick wall, too high to scale, and realized there was simply no way to delude myself any longer that a career could be made writing. It was time to get a nice, reliable office job and stop with the fairy tales.

After a day applying for receptionist and executive assistant gigs that I was somehow both unqualified and ridiculously overqualified for, I went to sigh in front of the bathroom mirror and discovered that the light in my eyes had faded. Poof. Gone.

For years I had been secretly delighted by the sparkle of expectation that always met my gaze when I was brave enough to look at myself in the mirror. Friends had even commented on it telling me, after the divorce, that it was nice to see “me” back again. That day, however, it was snuffed out and replaced by the deadened stare of someone whose dreams had never materialized. I looked like my father and it made me shudder. I’m ashamed to admit that I stayed this way for weeks. I may have gotten out of bed physically but mentally the covers were over my head but good.

I wish I could tell you exactly what it was that shook me awake but I don’t remember anything earth shattering happening – just that I read this article about the Tambaqui and that made me think of Randy Pausch and that’s when everything started to get better.

Pausch was a computer science professor at Carnegie Mellon who is most famous for his “Last Lecture,” delivered to a packed house ten months before he died from cancer. The lecture has over 13 million hits on youtube and I know why: it’s fucking awesome.

In the lecture Pausch talks about the importance of a brick wall – “The brick walls are there for a reason. The brick walls are not there to keep us out; the brick walls are there to give us a chance to show how badly we want something. The brick walls are there to stop the people who don't want it badly enough. They are there to stop the other people.”

Crying like a character out of a romantic comedy who's just learned the "big lesson," I went to the garbage can, swept away the coffee grounds and slicks of yogurt, and got back to work. Yes, I need a job to put food on the table and, yes, I need a job that provides some security so I can start sleeping again but I can’t give up writing. I won’t. The fruit I’m after hangs from the highest tree so I’m just gonna keep swimming and wait for the flood.