Career, a road. The road we travel.

New Year's wish for me. And you.

This is about New Year’s resolutions, and a bit more.

You’re all going to stop drinking, start exercising and learn French. Of course. Get cracking.

Yeah, let’s see how long those last.

I’m already enforcing my own New Year’s resolutions. I just haven’t invested fully in them. The missing piece is simple: I need to do more than merely perform them on a daily basis, I need to invest myself fully in them, commit to them as a quintessential part of how I define myself now.

I’m pretty much retired from casting these days, though I’m not actually retired. Fortunately, I don’t have to choose my next “career” based on how much money I’ll make.

Sidebar: throughout this post, I’ll be using the word “career” based on its French root, “carriere,” which means a road. The road we travel through life. Our journey.

I’ve been trying to come up with new investments—for how to feed my mind, my spirit with a career that provides meaning for me. I figured it takes time to…percolate.

Funny thing, though. The only thing taking time to percolate has been my own myopia, my inability to see what’s been right in front of me the whole time. I already know what those investments are. I just haven’t fully committed to them, at least not in the way I’d committed to casting, or any other job that involves a weekly paycheck.

Many people tend to define themselves through the jobs they have. And that presents a big trap.

As I mentioned, I’m fortunate that I don’t need to base my career choice on paying the bills. But I have great compassion for those who do, who live paycheck-to-paycheck, month-to-month. I spent years living that way myself, so I’m aware that finding a “passion” isn’t a luxury available to everyone.

Forgive me if the following sounds like some privileged sermon, cause it’s not meant to be.

I have less compassion for those who don’t have to work at jobs but continue to do them. Who are they without the without the corner office, the perks, the power? Maybe they love their jobs. I’ll bet that some don’t as much as they let on; I suspect they wouldn’t know what to do with their days if they stopped working.

What if you just woke up, had coffee and then had to ferret out a meaningful way to pass the day? You might begin a search for some deeper sense of self, some other way to define yourself, turn the page to a new chapter of life instead of closing the book on it.

It’s taken me a hell of a lot of time to figure out how I invest in my days. Some felt like chasms I’d never be able to cross. Others began to feel like comfortable meadows where I can, as Dylan wrote, “tryin’ to be just like I am.”

It’s not the “career” path of a recent college grad. I’m not a recent college grad, I’m an older white dude with forty years of experience in an industry that has pretty much changed beyond recognition. It no longer toots my horn, so to speak, so I’ve left it behind me like an old sock. Other than the occasional “casting nightmare” dreams, I’ve moved on.

Here’s the “career” path I’ve chosen: 1.Writing: I’m not the greatest writer in the world. But I’m not the worst either. Maybe I’ll get published, maybe I won’t. That’s not really why I write, though. It can’t be on a deadline, or for someone else. The boys in the basement (thanks, Steve King, for that metaphor) don’t talk to me at my convenience. Inspiration takes time to percolate. There’s no genie, no magic lamp to rub. I gotta wait for it, and that’s okay.

I love the whimsical ways that inspiration reveals itself to me: making dinner, taking a shower, putting a nail in the wall, walking down the street, those boys may decide to start dictating their sudden insights at any random moment. So I have to be ready for them when they do decide to start yammering their clouds of insight.

2. Exercise: Forty years of long-distance running hasn’t been kind to my back, so exercises like walking, weights, and basketball get me out of my chair and into the world. One of the perks is that the boys (see above) tend to talk to me during, or just after. Which—bonus points—feeds my writing.

3. Piano: Recently, I’ve rediscovered my love of playing, especially rock music, and so, I’m in a rock band. Maybe it’s just a variation on the red-sports-car mid-life crisis, but what the hell, it’s fun. It takes a lot of practice; it takes time to get my fingers to cooperate. My left arm hurts from all that repetitive rhythm tapping. I love it.

4. Italian: I’d learned some Italian when I was writing and directing “My Italian Cafe.” Now I’m studying it because it’s just a fun language to speak, plus it’s a challenging workout for the brain. Years ago, I had a great teacher (thank you, Monique) but she’s moved back to Buenos Ares, so now I’m using Duo Lingo. Maybe I’ll take the family to Rome, Florence or Venice next year.

These career choices, the roads I’m traveling, may not result in fame or fortune. That’s not why I’m doing them. I enjoy playing with my rock band. Do I need an audience? Maybe one day, but not right now. Do I need to see my next novel on the tables at Barnes and Noble? Maybe one day, but not right now. It’s not external recognition I’m looking for. It’s the internal recognition of my investment. In my new career.

The only New Year’s resolution I have for myself? Being kind, loving and attentive to my wife and son, first and foremost. Then acknowledge that I’ve already found my new careers. Wean myself off my addiction to convention, the notion that I’m only defined by externals, by some sort of weird mirror, not by myself.

Can I make one New Year’s wish for my readers without getting too preachy? Let’s try.

Review your investments. Not necessarily the financial ones, though you may want to do that too. I’m inviting you along, to invest in the passions that are already a part of our lives, recognize what may already be right in front of us. Consider it an invitation to a different notion of career—a road, the road we travel—because once we view our true self approaching on the horizon, well, it feels pretty good.