On Time and Nostalgia
I am 24-years-old and aging scares the hell out of me. No, I’m not afraid of the wrinkles, crow’s feet or constant gas. That comes with the territory. Honestly, I’m kind of looking forward to pretending that I have the right-of-way in every situation. I want to be one of those old people who runs into you and then pretends it’s your fault. They always seem like a blast. However, the idea of aging and the passing of time is scary for so many other reasons. As I mentioned earlier, I’m only 24 but I worry that I am running behind. The fear of missing out, or “FOMO” as the kids are calling it these days, cannot begin to encompass the fear I feel.
Growing up, before I ever aspired to be a writer, I wanted to be a lawyer. I liked the way the female lawyers on TV were allowed to be both badass and attractive. When they entered the courtroom, they demanded respect and they got it. And before too many episodes of Law and Order convinced me that law was the dream for me, I wanted to be a songwriter. I have the notebook of terribly written songs to prove it. I had convinced myself that these dreams would come to fruition despite the fact that I was both a terrible singer and songwriter, and definitely didn’t have the patience or intelligence to become a lawyer. I just liked trying to solve murders on TV.
The point is, like most kids growing up, I wanted so many things because I thought I had the world at my fingertips. I thought that time was something I had an abundance of. Time was the friend who sat alongside me in English class, joyfully reading Dear Mr. Henshaw by Beverly Cleary. Time played with me at recess, and again under the hot summer sun as we ran alongside cousins and sisters to the park up the street from my grandma’s house. Time was the place I tucked my hopes and dreams away to work on later, excited for the day I’d be old enough to achieve them.
As you may have guessed, I am not a lawyer or a songwriter. Some dreams have to die and stay dead for the greater good. However, I’m a journalist and a writer, doing two things I love most in life, so I can’t complain. And I still have hopes and dreams today. Those aspirations naturally fall in line with the dreams of writers and journalists alike. In fact, I have two lists of dream publications I’d like my work to find a home among. One for creative and nonfiction writing, and the other is a list of dream bylines. I love these lists and I guard them with my life, the same way I asked time to guard my hopes and dreams all those years ago. I’m even lucky enough to be able to say that I’ve already achieved some of my goals, and was able to cross a few of the names off of my creative and nonfiction list.
I’ve created a timeline for myself. My timeline is a bit nonsensical, but that fact both pushes and hinders me. I focus on this timeline a little too much, even though things are going great for me career-wise right now (knock on wood). I’m a Senior Entertainment Writer at Cliché Magazine, and I have essays featured and forthcoming in the top four publications on the creative and nonfiction list…and that’s where the aforementioned fear comes in. I am petrified for three very different reasons.
The first is that I’m only 24 and I have already reached my peak. I fear that I can go no further and that my audience will lose interest. I’ve done all that I can do, and the opportunities will dry up along with any talent I may think I have. I watch a lot of movies where this has occurred, so I feel like I’ve basically seen that happen firsthand.
The second fear is that all of these things that I think are big accomplishments and achievements for someone of my age and current skill level are actually nothing compared to what most people my age have achieved in the same field or outside of it. There are a lot of brilliant people who are younger than me doing amazing things, and I feel like I need to catch up before it’s too late. Otherwise, my accomplishments so far will mean nothing in terms of the “big picture.”
My last fear is that by the time I reach the age where I’m supposed to have all of the things I’ve dreamed of (a book, an established name and body of work, and a small role in a TV show), I still won’t have them. But I believe that I’ve found a way to combat the unhealthy helping of fear that comes with my timeline…nostalgia.
Nostalgia sometimes gets a bad rap. There is this idea that nostalgia is inherently unhealthy. But I believe that like most things, nostalgia is fine in moderation. In fact, I celebrate good news by watching old movies and TV shows, and I stomach rejection with the memories of a younger me who held tight to her dreams and pushed on even when she was tired or fell down and bruised her knee, or with the music that blasted from the radio in the room of a younger me wishing for more without knowing quite yet what more entailed. The girl who believed in Neverland and Peter Pan and talked to the stars at night when everyone else fell asleep is always somewhere inside of me. And when I need her, I know the best way to find her is through the oldies but goodies, the “feels like just yesterday” trips down memory lane that remind us everything will be okay.
In truth, I fear so many things, but I’ve learned how to tame them: locking them away and wrapping them in a vial around my neck like fairy dust, only releasing a small portion when I need a little extra motivation on projects. Nostalgia is my coat of armor, my go-to defense mechanism when the chips are down and the buzzer sounds. Whether I win or lose, I look to it like the supportive coach on the sidelines of the big game.
After my Catapult essay on Disability, Movies and Blackness went live, I watched Roger and Hammerstein’s Cinderella with Brandy and Whitney Houston, marveling at the way their voices shone together and apart even after all these years. When my essay for The Toast on the harm in Inspiration Porn went live, I watched the Disney Channel Original Movie Twitches starring Tia and Tamera Mowry. After reading the last of four rejection emails a few days ago, I watched Chasing Liberty starring Mandy Moore.
The thing is, nostalgia is here for me through the good and the bad, the security blanket I need on the longest of days. When all else fails, it feels like coming home to something that has never really left me. Aging and the passing of time still scares the hell out of me. They still make me wish I could purchase more on Amazon or the black market. But at least now I have a coping mechanism for the inevitable.
I’m excited to see where I end up when everything is all said and done. I know that with all my hard work and a bit of luck, I’ll end up right where I need to be when I need to be. Until then, I’ll keep watching old movies and listening to my favorite old music when the fear gets the best of me. Besides, is there a better way to enjoy the present than the occasional trip back to the past? I don’t think so. Still, I better enjoy life while I can just in case my DVD player breaks.
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