To Be Alice

To find the strength to be her. To see the rabbit hole and choose it, though it is a dark, unseen path, and embrace that abyss of unknown, of possibilities, of the light that will inevitably breakthrough. I am hovering just above, like looking down into a deep well, and it is eerie, it is peaceful, it births a great angst and curiosity.

I am choosing it. I am leaping in eyes wide open. I am falling. I am…

In a few short months, I will be submitting my two week notice. Several brief sentences that neglect all I really wish to say, to scream, to chastise with such a venomous tongue. But I am but a plebeian in this charade. A great play of corporate life and ethic that is as false as the reflection of Dorian Gray.

My retreat is unknown. Applications submitted, but acceptance refrains for months or even eternally. But I cannot wait for the fates of graduate panels to accept or reject me. The two dimensional glimpse of all I am in a few short essays and 20 image portfolio. On paper am I pleasing to read? Do my words intrigue and validate a desire for journalistic study? Or am I just a paper doll figure? Words that dull the mind and pain the heart with each line? I can but hope that they find something worthy in my writings, in my images. It is like waiting for a rose or a poorly scripted kill line.

No matter the outcome, my decision is firm. My pending notice is known, and I will leave to venture into an unplanned chapter. I simultaneously sense the paradoxical coupling of terror and liberation in my first breath away from the cubicle. And though I have no concrete agenda or backup plan, I will choose it nonetheless. I have found my heart so ill these past few years, and what has sustained it through it all has been the arts, the need to find light through the lens, and to put words to paper. Have I not earned this for myself? Do I but deserve the chance to plunge into the unknown rather than follow the poorly constructed outline that the masses are expected to conform to like automatons programmed to live just to work?

I am empty but filled with hope, passion, an a yearning to feed the creativity in me that has been so long neglected. I will have no job. I will have no security. I will walk each step with instinct and the knowledge of the life thus far lived. I will not let another take my choices for this life. If one is all we get, then why wait? Why waste a day living by another man’s demands? Always is there the choice of the self. The second that is forgotten is the moment power over me has been given to another.

I will find my way…but first, I must take the leap down the rabbit hole.

This entry was published on February 8, 2010 at 1:57 am. It’s filed under Photography, Psychology, Sociology, Women and Gender Issues and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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