Waiting in Circles

On Yearning

In January 2023, I wrote that my New Year’s Resolution was “to want less”.  I googled how I should do this and was given four steps to follow:

1. Identify what you assume eg. Money brings you happiness.

2. Question your expectation - will getting what I want actually give me what I expect?

3. Look closely at your now - am I currently making choices that make me happy? 

4. Be the change you are seeking - instead of fantasising about happiness in the future, take an active step right now towards making it reality.

I think all of these are useful considerations when wishing for material goals. They apply best to money, social media presentation, perceptions of popularity and body image. But there a fundamental parts of human desire this process fails to work for:

Most of my 2023 was consumed with wanting a permanent home. Each day I obsessively checked 4 websites, refreshing each one every 2 minutes, sometimes even every 30 seconds. On one website alone, I applied to over 400 apartments. And I got less than 10 viewings. And 0 offers. At that point “being the change you are seeking” or “identifying what you assume” become redundant. It’s like a) duh, I’m trying to be and b) I assume *correctly* that having an apartment would feel good. 

But the strange thing was, I wasn’t fantasising about being in these homes (in fact I made an active decision not to). Instead it was more like a game. Putting in time and energy, falling at different hurdles, sizing up competitors, learning and getting to the next round, fingers-crossed, hoping that my name would be called for the trophy at the end. The action of waiting was so consuming, there was no space to think about what the prize would look like.

Parallel to the house drama, I was also having a ‘waiting' situation at work.  A film script I wrote was bought by my bosses, with the intention of them making my film with Netflix. For three months, I reshaped the story, on request moulding it for the higher studio powers that be. Feeling immense insecurity, fear of comprising myself, fear of not pushing myself enough, all leading up to a huge deadline where I finally finished the script and the control over the outcome left my tired hands. And that’s when real hell began.

This is an excerpt from my notes app during that time:

“I go to work every day where the people around me will know before me a) whether the news is coming and b) if it’s good or bad. Every day I look at the calendar obsessively wondering if a random meeting will have been scheduled which gives a clue as to the answer of the news. I stare at people around me in the eye, looking for pity or shadiness implying they already know the answer and are withholding it from me. I have practised how I am going to excuse myself from the room to avoid crying in front of my bosses if the news is not good. I have debated whether it is appropriate for me to hug them if it is. I cant stop replaying things in my mind in anticipation of how I can change the outcome before I even know the answer.”

And this is what I drew:

Lol.

Anyway, after weeks of absolute agony, I finally got the answer and guess what:

Which then prompted whatever this atrocity is:

Followed by this, which was almost definitely going to be an incredibly embarrassing metaphor about journeys or about feeling like I was hit by a train but luckily got thwarted in the process:

Anyway, I didn’t get the news I wanted. But unfortunately, RIGHT NOW, the script is doing the rounds AGAIN. And a very similar thing is happening where, once more, I am kind of WAITING FOR A CALL. 

This whole process has made me really consider my decision to be a screenwriter. I have decided to be someone that makes something and then has wait for others to decide if it will come to life or not. I have agreed to a life of waiting for important phones to ring, where the stakes are bizarrely high for just words on a piece of paper. 

a) Hi, this is Hollywood. We are making your script into a literal movie that the whole world can watch.

b) Hi, this is your agent. No one wants to make your movie and also you don’t own the story anymore because we sold your rights away when we were trying to convince someone to make it. The people you wrote, the relationships you created, the world they walk through, now sits locked up in a office desk drawer.

The whole experience for me, both house and script, is best described as yearning. I don’t necessarily want what happens next. I have no visions of how my life would change if I made a movie. Or fantasies of what that success would bring. Same with the house - I never envisioned what my home would look like. I just yearned for the answer, for that moment of clarify and validation when someone finally says YES.

Yes. You. Did. It. YOU. Did. It.

All that work you put in. All that worrying you’ve done. All those fears you had. All those moments of doubt. All that energy you expended. It worked. You’ve done it. You did it. You can rest.

…

I think that’s basically it from me. I don’t have a conclusion beyond that. And I think yearning for the ‘yes you did it’ is maybe a lifelong trip. We’re all looking for the confirmation we are going in the right direction and that people can see you trying and are proud of you. I’d love to hear what everyone else thinks. 

And to send you off, hopefully not too shortchanged, here are a few paintings of women waiting. Uhh, how I relate so much to all of them. 

Interior. Stranddheed, 30 - Vilhelm Hammershøi

Die alte Bäuerin - Paula Modersohn-Becker

An Old Woman - Vilhelm Hammershøi (1886)

Til next time!