Jennifer Carroll is a 21 year old actor and writer. She first began writing for the Uxbridge Cosmos in 2007 when she had the opportunity to share her experiences as a Canadian ambassador for an international conference for women in Dubai. At the beginning of 2008, she moved to Ireland to pursue a career in theatre and film. Far From Home is her monthly account on living and working in Dublin.
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Heart of darkness
Clean, mysterious, dangerously exciting: my life is unfolding like the Congo River in Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness, the thin line of an unexplored river coursing over a clean white page. Life is a deep, vast current that will take you under if you don't have the strength to cut through it. With no mapped route, I navigate my way upstream while my life punctuates itself with forks and bends. Theatre school: fork. Living abroad: fork. Writing: delightful little bend.
My life has forked dramatically, its path swerving and racing in the most unexpected directions. I've never doubted these choices. In fact I've known my direction almost innately, and if I would have closed my eyes and pointed blindly I know I'd choose the same path again. The direction comes from my gut, my heart. With youth comes a sure hand and unhesitating mind, and I remember nearly cantering through the early crossroads head held high, eyes eagerly staring straight ahead, ready, sure. There is no question at the very beginning; which way to travel, what fears to discard and what ideals to cherish with a stubborn ferocity. It was simple because the map was still black and white, simple and clear. But as you follow course and make acquaintance with your surroundings, the edges blur and grey seeps in. The inestimable space around you cultivates doubt, and when you don't quite recognize your path, the temptation to backtrack or compromise can be overwhelming.
…OK, perhaps I've just exhausted a limited metaphor. Perhaps I'm grabbing for a neat and tidy picture of what life is meant to be. It could be I'm covering up a misty, intangible fear with the fantasy of a fearless explorer… it very well could be.
Because as time passes, I realize how deceptively easy it becomes to lose direction. Life is tricky; it's distracting and flashy and lets time slip by while I hardly notice. Focus is paramount and impossible to fake. Every moment that distracts me from the stage is a nasty threat to my dream, and even fantastic distractions like travelling can leave a bitter taste of regret in their ability to waive my direction. I have such enormous dreams and ambition to match. A now familiar ache lies in me, one of splendid consistency. It's a demon that lies in my gut, refusing to sleep, a steady reminder of what I've yet to accomplish.
My little raft has halted at its biggest crossroads yet. With an opportunity of a lifetime and a significant investment into the future of my career before me, I find myself embarrassingly hesitant. Those blacks and whites are most definitely more grey than ever. Because you see, it would plant me back home, a place I always knew I would end up, but it would also mean leaving the home I've built here. And looking down the narrower side of the forked river, I realize how much of a home it's become. Home in the most comforting, familiar way. Dublin is home in so many ways to me because it's mine. After two and a half years of fighting and nudging my way into this town, I've etched my groove in the old buildings and cobblestones. The sounds, the lights, the people are comforting, irreplaceable.
I hope that whichever route I choose will paint my map full of vibrancy, slashing over all those grey valleys with unabashed colours. So I pause at the mouth of the divide and ponder a little longer. And all I can feel is that demon beating in my gut…
