I think part of the reason why I'm reluctant to jump wholeheartedly into studying and perfecting my craft, whatever that could be, is because I am avoiding the potential to end up feeling burned like the last time.
Looking back going "I spent my time studying that?"
How could I have been that invested in the ins and outs of something as small and specific as the lineage of the New York improv comedy scene? I bought into the culture. Combing decade-old posts on message boards. Committing to memory the lineups of defunct indie teams formed before the players were cast on Harold Night and weekend teams. Knowing and discussing which teams invented which forms. Dissecting with fellow geeks years-old shows that none of us saw.
It feels 100% useless now. I wish I could discard it and give my brain some room.
But I have to remember: At one time, it was useful. I got where I wanted to go at the time. I actually made it farther than so many people end up going. It's a shame that it wasn't as sweet to follow that path as I had hoped. It's a shame that the hub of all the action was actually clearly rotten inside. It's a shame that it was the norm to be willfully ignorant of red flags and weirdos clinging to imaginary power. It's a shame that I wanted so badly to be recognized and and celebrated by it. It's a shame when that desire ends up taking priority over doing something more meaningful.
I hold a lot of trepidation and self doubt when I think about immersing myself in something so wholeheartedly again. But what else is there to do?
I haven't found it yet. What is out there for me that could thrill me so much that I throw myself into the work? And once I find it, will I trust myself to follow it?